Chapter 12
TWELVE
SIERRA
WHEN LIDIA TOLD me to meet her this morning, I thought I’d be meeting my new partner. Not sitting in Coach Kilner’s office to watch him shuffle through papers and answer calls with quick yeses and noes.
But then there’s a knock on Kilner’s door, and he drops the stack and rounds his desk. I’m trying to be patient to show Lidia how determined I am to be disciplined with the rigorous training we have to do. But when I look at her, she’s blinking rapidly. It throws me off.
I’m counting the number of stress balls in Kilner’s office before I hear a voice that makes my stomach flip.
“Have I told you how young you look lately?” The smirk is loud in his voice.
I peek over my shoulder to find Dylan leaning with one hand against the threshold.
“Sit your ass down, Donovan,” Kilner says, and my hope of this being a hallucination puffs away.
I’m in a nightmare, and Dylan Donovan is my sleep paralysis demon.
Though instead of the scary long fingers and skeletal frame, it’s thick biceps and broad shoulders striding in confidently in gray sweats and a black T-shirt that’s tight around his arms, hair a little wavier than usual, like he just rolled out of bed.
Wake up, Sierra!
“Sierra?” Amber brown eyes find me, and he stops. “I was joking about the stalker stuff before, but this is getting a little creepy.”
“You two know each other?” Kilner asks.
“Yeah—”
“No,” I blurt at the same time. My fists clench at my sides, and I can’t tear my eyes away from the idiot, who’s staring at me like this is amusing.
When Dylan drops into the seat beside me, he smells fresh, like soap and clean laundry.
The distinct smell of him is one I had been surrounded by under the bleachers and in the Fishbowl.
When he obnoxiously manspreads, his knee hits mine, and I reflexively pull away.
He follows the move with a smile on his lips, like he’s holding back a laugh. How could he possibly find this funny?
“That’s great,” says Lidia. “Because you two will be skating together.”
This can’t be happening to me. I whip my head toward Lidia. “Is this a joke?”
“Coach, I thought this was about my reinstatement,” Dylan says.
“It is,” Kilner says firmly. “They’ve agreed to lift your rink restrictions, but only under one condition—you need to be a part of a sanctioned program.”
Dylan furrows his brows, skepticism written all over his face. I look between Coach and Dylan in confusion. But then Lidia interjects, and it hits me all at once, because this isn’t a sick joke or nightmare. With the way things have been going for me, I should have known.
“Sierra needs a skating partner before the deadline,” Lidia explains, her voice clipped. “And this late in the season, no one else is available. We need someone to help her qualify for next year, and since she’s brought Dalton such positive accolades, they’ve made an exception.”
In other words, the USFS couldn’t find anyone to partner with me. Or worse, no one wanted to. My last flicker of hope swirls away like water down a drain.
“And,” Coach Kilner continues, “since you’re suspended and need to prove your discipline, the dean approved this partnership.
You’ll skate with Sierra to help her qualify, and in return, you’ll work toward reinstatement while keeping your ice time.
You’ll undergo periodic drug tests, and based on your behavior, it’ll determine your NCAA eligibility and release you from the NHL hold before graduation. ”
Dylan leans back in his chair like that’s the last thing he expected.
I don’t want to make a scene in front of Kilner and have him think that I don’t appreciate his help, but this is insanity. I can’t possibly be this desperate.
“But he’s a hockey player!” I blurt. From my periphery, I can see Dylan looking at me.
“Actually, I’m suspended,” he says matter-of-factly.
“You know what I mean. You could never keep up with me.”
“Oh yeah? You want to test out my stamina, princess?”
“Dylan,” Coach scolds, and he shuts his mouth. My cheeks are burning when I look between Kilner and Lidia.
“We don’t have much time. Yes or no?” Lidia asks, her bluntness catching me off guard.
“No way.”
“Sure,” Dylan says.
My head snaps to Dylan. His lips are tight, fighting a laugh, but the way his eyes dance with amusement gives him away.
Lidia pins me with a scary look. The last time I got one of those it was because I was training on my off day. “This is not the time to be picky, Sierra. You said you wouldn’t.”
“I know, but—”
“Sierra.” Kilner’s voice is steady. “I understand how much this means to you, and Lidia is well aware of Dylan’s experience. Still, you’re free to require a tryout and decide from there.”
He’s got that fatherly stare he’s given me plenty of times, and I can’t do anything but nod. Then he turns to Dylan with a look sharp enough to cut glass—a silent Don’t fuck this up.
Dylan throws his hands up in mock surrender, but his smirk remains intact.
My gaze ping-pongs between the two of them. I can’t quite read Dylan beyond that or find any cracks in the way he wears the confidence of a god.
“Tomorrow, six a.m. sharp. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Dylan glances at me briefly. “Done.”
“But, Lidia, what about the people you reached out to?” I have to ask.
“I’ve made calls, posted on every forum, and reached out to colleagues. So far, no one has shown interest, and we’re running out of time. If we delay this much longer, you’ll risk missing the qualification window and having to delay your entire season.”
So, it really is true—no one wants me.
She must read that realization on my face. “No one is available in time for what you need. Unless you’re okay sitting this season out.”
I blink away the sting behind my eyes.
“Have the tryout, then take the night to think about it,” Kilner suggests.
I nod, and when we’re dismissed from his office, Dylan’s already headed out the double doors of the arena. I’m chasing him down by the time he’s halfway to his car.
“Donovan,” I call, and he stops just as he reaches for the door handle. He turns, cocks his head, and smiles.
“Don’t even think about showing up tomorrow,” I snap.
I don’t have it in me to be subtle. He’s suspended for drug use.
And I know his reputation on campus. How could I rely on someone like that when I have so much on the line?
I’ll have to try harder to find someone on my own.
“This isn’t a joke, and I won’t let anyone screw this up for me. ”
He steps into my space. “You need a partner, Sierra. And I’m on suspension. It’s not like I have anything better to do.”
“Gee, thanks. You really know how to make a girl feel special,” I bite out. “But even if I do need a partner, it is never going to be you.”
The words hang between us, sharp and pointed, but he doesn’t back down. Instead, his expression hardens, something competitive flickering in his eyes. That’s when I see the hockey player in him, the one everyone says is dangerous and has a reputation for brawling on the ice.
“Look, we both know I can skate pretty damn well—”
“You’re okay,” I cut in.
“And you need a partner with a schedule that can allow for an intense training plan.”
I hate that he makes sense. “You expect me to believe you actually want to do this?”
He sighs like I’m being difficult. “You were in there with me, Sierra. Does it look like I had a choice?”
My chest feels heavier. The last thing I want is to be in a forced partnership.
After Justin, it feels impossible to jump back in and trust someone new.
Especially someone whose lifestyle is so different from mine.
Dylan plays hockey, but it’s not his entire life.
Skating is mine, and he won’t ever understand that.
“Don’t show up tomorrow,” I say.
Dylan raises his brows. “Is that a threat?”
“Yes.”
“Shouldn’t have said that, Sierra. I’m dying to see what one of your threats entails.”
“You don’t want to find out,” I say.
For a moment, he just stares at me, his brown eyes gleaming with something I can’t quite place. I brace myself for a smug comeback, something sharp and infuriating that will make my blood boil. Instead, he steps back, maddeningly confident as he unlocks his black Range Rover.
Before he sits inside, with one hand on the door, he leans just close enough to catch my eye. “See you tomorrow, princess.”
And then he’s gone, the roar of his engine fading into the distance, leaving me standing there, fists clenched, heat prickling at the back of my neck.