Chapter 8 JP – GARDENS, DOGS, COOKS, & BOOKS #2
But as I slept, my dreams took me back to the past, back to when things were anything but easy…
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2011
The first Monday of summer break, I parked my truck at Centre Ice and rounded the back to grab my hockey bag. Colt, Kappy, and I worked it out with Hans that we’d coach the mini-mite clinic each morning, and then we’d get free ice time afterwards.
Of course I was the first to arrive because Colt and Kappy were both perpetually late, something that made my skin crawl.
As I walked across the large, cracked parking lot, the sun was shining brightly against the blue sky, and the rink looked so peaceful, but I had a weird feeling gnawing at me, making me pick up my pace.
As soon as I pushed open the glass lobby doors, my stomach dropped to the floor.
Ali was sitting at the rubber-covered picnic table holding a bag of ice on her forearm with tear tracks down her face.
Dropping my hockey bag from my shoulder, I jogged over to her. “What happened?”
Her small body was trembling wildly as her teary brown eyes went up to mine. “I was doing a combo jump and fell weird. I fell on my arm.”
I smoothed a hand over my mouth, trying to settle my nerves. This girl was constantly getting hurt and it was hard to watch. “Can I see it?”
As soon as she lifted the ice bag, I sucked in a sharp breath.
“What?” she cried, looking up at me with panicked eyes that were quickly filling with more tears.
“No, no, no, you’re good, you’re okay,” I said as calmly as I could.
But I didn’t need to be a doctor to know that her forearm was literally bent where it should’ve been straight.
“Put the ice back on,” I advised, even though I wasn’t sure how much ice could even help in this situation. “When did it happen?”
She winced. “Like, five minutes ago?”
Damn. She should’ve been screaming in pain. Her body was probably in shock. She needed to get to a hospital.
“Your dad is coming?” I looked around the lobby for signs of him. I wanted to whisk her away and drive there right fucking now.
“Yeah, I texted my dad.” She sniffled. “And Mark.”
“Need help taking off your skates?” I offered. I needed to do something, anything, for her.
“Yeah, can you?” She sniffled again and tried to wipe her tears away with her good hand.
Bending down, I quickly started unlacing her skates, careful not to move her body. I ran my tongue over my teeth, absolutely hating this.
“I’m sorry,” she said in a teary voice.
My face fell. “What? No, Ali, why are you sorry? I’m sorry. I’m just…” I shook my head.
“You’re what?”
“I’m mad,” I said hoarsely. The entire summer was morphing before my eyes, taking her out of it completely, and that just wasn’t…
That wasn’t okay. It wasn’t fair. Our group had so many plans.
We even had a plan for tonight. We were going to invite the girls to a bonfire at Kappy’s.
Now that she couldn’t come, I didn’t even want to go.
She shrunk back. “At me?”
“No, absolutely not,” I swore. My hand went to her thigh, trying to comfort her.
“I’m mad at your bones, your genetics, your butt for crushing your arm, your sister for sucking up protein from you in the womb.
” That earned me a little wet laugh. “The ice, the person who sharpened your skates, your coach,” I continued.
“I don’t even know. I’m mad you’re hurt, b—” I stopped myself before calling her ‘babe.’ I hardened my jaw to reign in my emotions.
“I’m mad you’re hurting, Ali. Here, put the ice back on. ”
“Don’t touch it,” she hissed with feral eyes.
“I won’t,” I said calmly. I put the ice bag in her left hand. “Where are your soakers and bag?”
“Locker room,” she murmured.
Nodding, I went to stand, but she grabbed my shirt.
“Can you stay with me? Just give my stuff to Annie?” she asked desperately. Anastasia, her twin sister, recently broke up with her last ice dance partner and was now training at Centre Ice again for the summer.
“Yeah.” I gently sat beside her on the bench, careful not to move her. She laid her head on my shoulder, and I barely breathed. I needed to soak up this time, her touch, because I had a feeling she’d be gone from the rink for a long time.
“You okay?” I asked.
“This hurts really bad,” she said in a tiny strained voice. “It’s getting worse.” Her lower lip trembled. “I’m scared, JP.” She could’ve just speared me through the heart with those words.
“I wish I could help,” I rasped. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Oh, shit!” Kappy’s voice called out.
Looking to my right, Kappy and Colt were dropping their hockey bags next to mine and rushing over.
“Lil Al Pal’s hurt again?” Kappy asked. “I think your bones are made of toothpicks, girlie,” he said gently.
I shot him a dark look.
“It’s okay. He’s right.” Ali patted my chest and sat up a little straighter. She moved the ice pack to the table.
As soon as Kappy and Colt’s eyes landed on her arm, their faces morphed into looks of pure horror.
“What?” Ali cried at them.
I gave them a negative head shake, warning them not to scare her.
“Nothing!” Kappy squeaked out, lifting his hands in innocence.
Colt’s face went serious. “You waiting on Coach?” he asked, meaning her dad, who was one of the head athletic trainers at the rink. “I’ll go get him.”
That was for the best. Her dad was a hardass, and Colt was one of the only players he actually liked. Whenever he ran a workout session for our team, he always seemed to single me out, pushing me harder than everyone else, which wasn’t fair, but I kept my head down and tried to impress him anyway.
Kappy sat on the picnic table in front of us and started spewing a nonsense story to distract her, but I couldn't focus on a word he was saying.
I was too worried about her. Were they going to have to re-set the bones?
Would she be awake or asleep? Would she need surgery?
Glancing at her arm again, my jaw flexed.
Yeah, she was probably going to need surgery.
Across the lobby, Mark Rossi barreled down the workout room stairs.
“What the fuck, Ali?” he burst out, sounding angry as he made his way toward us. “What did you do now?”
Ali’s face broke with more tears that she attempted to hide with her good hand.
“Thanks for that, we just got her to stop crying,” Kappy mumbled, eyeing Mark darkly.
I glared at Mark, feeling about two seconds away from decking him.
Mark scowled at us before turning back to Ali. “This is the third time this year. What the fuck happened?”
This was, in fact, the third time. Right after placing second at Nationals in January, she strained her hip flexor, which took her off the ice for about six weeks.
When she finally started training again around her birthday in March, she broke her collarbone.
Both times she didn’t give her body sufficient rest because she was itching to get back on the ice. And now this…
Mark’s knees cracked as he knelt down in front of her. She cried harder as he whispered things to her. He shot me a dark look as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. Turning back to Ali, he demanded, “Okay, let me see.”
Ali slowly removed the bag of ice with a shaky left hand. “Don’t touch it,” she warned.
I had to look away because my body was trembling with rage. I couldn’t handle the way he talked to her. He seemed angry at her for getting hurt, like it was her fault, like she wanted to be sitting here in pain.
A scream ripped from her throat.
Of fucking course he touched it.
I automatically shot to my feet and shoved him away from her, harder than I intended, and he went stumbling back. I shifted in front of Ali, blocking her from his view.
His dark eyes locked on me and his face reddened. His anger found a new target: Me, and I was glad for it.
“Why the fuck are you even here?” Mark spat. “Get out of here.”
“She said don’t touch it.”
Kappy cautiously stood in between us. “All right guys, let’s take it down a notch.” He gave me a warning look.
Mark started laughing, his eyes never leaving my face. “Fuck off, McQuaid. I’ll touch my girlfriend if I fucking want to.”
Kappy swore under his breath.
“Not if she says no,” I hurled back, just barely containing my fury.
Mark continued laughing. “And what are you going to do about it?”
I snapped.
All the panic and anger inside my body twisted together as I swung at him. Kappy kept trying to separate us, but both of us got a solid punch in on the other. His nose was bleeding. I could taste blood in my mouth.
“Boys!” Hans yelled. “Knock it off! Knock it off right now or you're both out of here.”
Breathing hard, I let Kappy push me back.
As my senses cleared, I could hear Ali crying harder, and I hated myself for it, but not as much as I hated Mark Rossi.
“Get back to work, Rossi.” Hans’ throat veins bulged as he yelled. “Now.”
“He started it,” Mark shouted, throwing his arm up at me.
“Go,” Hans demanded sternly.
Mark glared at him like he wanted to fight the old man, but he couldn’t do that considering Hans was his fucking boss. Mark stormed away without even saying a word to Ali.
Motherfucker.
I was about to yell at him, but Hans cut me off.
“Jameson,” he said sternly. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know why you hired that fucking guy,” I growled.
Hans gave me a warning look, making my shoulders drop. I hated when he was disappointed with me. I cracked my neck and looked away.
“Are you okay?” he repeated.
I nodded stiffly.
Hans shook his head, looking anything but pleased with me before turning his attention to Ali. Kneeling beside her, he shared a few hushed words with her before patting her good hand.
Using my t-shirt, I wiped blood from my mouth, and I could practically feel Hans’ disapproving gaze on me.
“Emotions are running high right now, but you need to keep your head. Her dad’s coming, keep an eye on her,” Hans demanded.
Swallowing hard, I nodded.
He pointed a finger at me. “I’m serious. Stay with her.” He ran his tongue over his teeth. “And you know why I had to hire Rossi.” He gave me one last disappointed look before leaving.
Fuck. I scrubbed a hand over my face. Yeah, I did know. His mother was now the program director of the figure skating club and Hans had to play rink politics to keep her happy.
Blowing out a frustrated breath, my eyes dropped to Ali crying on the bench, and I felt lower than low.
“Ali, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry.” I tried to settle my breathing, but my body was amped up and shaking from the fight. “You told him not to touch it, and when he did, I just lost it. I’m sorry.”
“I know,” she said, still crying.
“I don’t know why you’re with that guy,” I huffed out.
“He was just worried about me.” She sniffled. “I can’t. Not right now,” she begged.
“Shit, yeah, I'm sorry,” I said, immediately feeling like an asshole for bringing it up at the worst possible time.
She leaned her head against my shoulder again, and I felt new tears hitting my shirt.
About five minutes later, her dad came into the lobby, his stone face etched with concern. Taking in the scene, he ran out to the parking lot for the car.
She walked slowly, careful not to jostle her arm to the front of the lobby to wait for her dad.
How many times did I have to watch this same scene? I was so sick of seeing this girl get hurt.
No more words were exchanged as I helped her into her dad’s truck. As soon as I closed the door, he sped off.
Walking back into the rink, Kappy clapped me on the back. “Yeah, that’s broken as fuck.”
I shoved him off me.
“How many injuries has that girl racked up?” Colt asked.
“I thought hockey was rough,” Kappy muttered to himself.
“Shut up,” I grumbled.
“What? I’m just saying.” Kappy shrugged.
“You don’t get to say. Piper’s an ice dancer, you don’t have to worry about this kind of thing.” He wasn’t dating Piper, and they always claimed to hate each other, but I knew they shared a deep connection.
Kappy snorted. “Shows how much you know. I’ll give you a break because you’re clearly rattled from seeing your girl’s arm bent in half, but you have no clue what you’re talking about, JP.”
Behind us, Anastasia threw the rink door open and stalked toward us.
“Oof, I need to go. The Wicked Witch of the West Rink is coming,” Kappy muttered under his breath before tearing away.
Colt’s eyes were already focused on the ice where Mer was skating. He turned to me with a tight grimace. “Sucks for Lil Al Pal, man. I’ll catch you in the locker room.”
“Where is she?” Anastasia demanded.
“Your dad took her.” Took her from me. I let out a sharp breath.
Her hands flew up to her head. “She broke it? Are you serious?”
Looking at her suspiciously, I nodded. She’d never spoken more than one sentence to me. Anastasia usually viewed us hockey guys as gum stuck on the bottom of her shoe. “It didn’t look good.”
Annie threw her arms up in frustration. “I think her body is saying no at this point, but no one wants to fucking listen.”
“What about ice dance? Would she ever switch?” I asked in hope. Ice dance was easier on the body than freestyle because there wasn’t jumping involved.
Annie snorted. “Nope, she says there’s no adrenaline rush with ice dance, but that’s just an excuse. Ali hates the lifts because she’s afraid of heights, but clearly, she should be afraid of jumping and crushing her own bones.”
I swallowed hard. “You think your parents will make her take it easy?”
Lifting an eyebrow, she scoffed. “That’s a stupid question, even for you, hockey boy.” She sighed again before dipping down to collect Ali’s skates.