Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
DYLAN
Sierra: Why is your entire hockey team following me on social media?
Dylan: Because they’re nosy idiots.
Sierra: Aw, you talk about me?
Dylan: No. I think about you.
Sierra: You’re thinking? Big day for you then.
Dylan: Brat.
Sierra: Asshole.
I live with three children. Since the night on my porch, the guys haven’t stopped talking about Sierra.
Apparently, they found watching us from the window more interesting than their reality TV show.
I’ve been avoiding them, so I’m early to the rink when I spot Kilner in the equipment room, laying into some rookie.
When he sees me, he waves the kid off. I’m pretty sure the poor guy was about to cry.
“Isn’t scaring the rookies supposed to be the captain’s job?”
He scribbles something on his clipboard. “Captain’s too busy getting himself suspended.”
“About that, I never apologized,” I start. “You trusted me, everyone did, and I broke that. It was never my intention to let my personal issues affect the game, and I hate myself for it more than you ever could.”
“Hate you? Why would I hate you?” He sighs heavily.
“I’ve told you. I don’t give up on my players.
You can be in the NHL, in a different sport or career, and I’d still support you.
But lucky for you, we’ve got movement on your suspension.
Reed and Dean Hutchins just need to approve you for a portion of the games. ”
“Really?” I’ve been so focused on skating that I hadn’t thought about why I was doing it.
“I’ve reached out to the NCAA, and once we get you fully reinstated, you’ll be reassessed by New York. Then all you idiots can finally leave me alone and I’ll get a normal captain.”
“You’re going to miss us,” I tease. “But since Sampson can’t, and I’m out, who’s interim captain?”
Kilner grits his teeth. He pulls out a stress ball and squeezes the life out of it. That makes my brain fire before the answer hits me like a puck to the face. No way. Holy. Fucking. Shit.
“It’s Kian, isn’t it?” I guess.
Kilner doesn’t answer. He rumbles something between a groan and a growl.
“Oh, this is amazing. I love this. I love this so hard.”
“You know what? I am angry at you.”
“No way. I might throw a party for the new captain right here.” I can’t stop laughing. Kian being the interim captain might be the best news I’ve received all week.
Kilner runs a hand over his jaw. “Why do I even bother with you idiots?”
I clutch my stomach, trying to calm myself down. “You’re going to get so much quality time with your favorite player. Can I tell him?”
“Let’s hold off on giving Ishida any news that’ll make his head burst,” he says.
“How noble of you.”
He snorts. “Get out, Donovan.”
On my way back to the rink, I see there’s still time before practice, so I grab a spare stick, do a couple drills, and dangle a puck, moving it smoothly back and forth. My stick scrapes the ice, and I flip the puck onto the flat edge, balancing it there when I hear the familiar scratch of skates.
“You’re late,” I say, eyes still on the puck.
“And you’re playing … hockey.” Sierra glides next to me, wearing a lavender skating dress.
Usually, she’s in a Dalton half-zip and leggings, the one she wears when she sleeps in after obsessing over our training videos.
Sometimes, it’s that all-pink outfit she wears to convince Lidia she’s in a good mood.
Then it’s the all-black dress, worn when she’s faster, more determined, and angrier than ever.
It’s like she wears them to melt into whoever she wants to be for the day.
“Is skating getting too hard for you?” Sierra asks.
“You think hockey’s easy?”
“It’s just chasing after a puck. Doesn’t take a genius.”
“Oh yeah? Then show me.” I toss her my stick, and just as I expect, she startles but catches it easily.
The stick’s meant for my height, but her grip is all wrong. Sierra inches forward, draws back, and almost misses the puck, moving it just two feet. “There. Easy,” she still says.
“You’re not even holding the stick right.”
“Yes, I am.”
I shake my head. “So damn stubborn.”
When she’s focused on her hands, I slide behind her. Her back presses against me, surrounding me in cherry. She stiffens as my arms encircle her, closing the space between us.
“I didn’t ask for your help,” she says.
“I’m giving it to you anyway.” I move closer, until I’m nearly breathing the same air and my nose almost brushes her cheek. My hands come over both of hers, sliding them lower and adjusting her elbows. I let her get comfortable with it.
“Like this?” she asks, voice tight.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “Like that.” My voice comes out rougher than I intend, and I don’t pull away. Not yet. The warmth of her skin against mine is almost too much, but I keep my hands steady, guiding her through a slap shot. “Now try hitting the puck.”
She hits it hard, sending it flying to the boards.
She gasps. “Told you it was easy. My childhood Sidney Crosby obsession is probably paying off. Though, I am good at everything,” she says to me, her smile inches away from mine.
Yeah, I bet she’d be great at anything. And now all I can think about is how I know what she tastes like, and if all of her tastes the same way. Sweet. Soft. Maddening.
Two claps sound, and Sierra jolts away from me. “Davai! You should be warming up before I get here,” Lidia shouts.
And just like that we fall into a long practice.
It’s hours later when I come off an intense bout of spins and jumps. “That’s nowhere near a quad Lutz, Dylan,” Lidia chides.
“It was a triple. Close enough.”
Sierra’s doing a terrible job of suppressing her amusement as she sits on the edge of the boards, swinging her feet. “Close enough doesn’t win competitions, Donovan.”
“Not having a partner doesn’t either, Romanova.”
That shuts her up.
“All right, get a drink of water, and when you’re back, we’re running through the whole program. Your first competition is next weekend. We need to be the best we can be.”
We glide to the bench, and Sierra’s in her thoughts, probably thinking about the competition. I hold out the energy bar for her. She takes it slowly, almost like she’s unsure, and the crinkle of the wrapper sounds too loud in the quiet between us.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” she asks.
My gaze drops to her lips, and I nearly lose my train of thought. “Are you offering?”
She stares blankly. “It’s yours.”
“Yeah?” A smirk tugs at my lips. I lean in, my gaze fixed on hers as I take a bite of the energy bar still in her grip.
She bristles.
I chew.
Sierra watches my mouth, letting the silence stretch like a thread pulled too tight. With her green eyes on me, she takes a bite, as if accepting some unspoken challenge.
When we’re on the ice again, moving into our second position, I try the simple lift Lidia allows us to do, but Sierra looks irritated.
“Your hold isn’t right. It’s blocking my core extension.”
“If I hold you any lower, I lose my grip,” I say.
Sierra glances at me and then Lidia, who watches us curiously. Just like that, she goes from crackling fire to a snuffed-out flame. She shrinks into herself, and I notice her hands ball into tight fists.
“Right. I shouldn’t have said anything. Sorry.”
My head whips around as she skates back to our starting position.
“You’re what?” I ask, incredulous.
“I said I’m sorry,” she mutters, a hint of anger flickering in her gaze.
That’s the frustration I expected, but it’s restrained, caged behind whatever tumultuous thoughts swirl in her intricate mind.
“That’s it? You’re not going to challenge me on it? Shit, Romanova, I expected you to make me say sorry.” She’s so stuck on pleasing others, she’d choke on it.
“You want me to fight you on this?”
“I want to know what you think. You shouldn’t blindly follow what I say.” She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Come on. Argue with me.”
“You can’t be serious.”
I glide right up to her, invading her space. “Fight me, Sierra.”
She exhales sharply. “You’re ridiculous.”
I tower over her now, a palpable tension simmering between us. Something ignites within her, and then I give her a light push, watching as she glides backward, mouth parting in disbelief. “You did not just push me.”
“Oh, I definitely did. What happened to the girl who told me off without thinking twice?”
She glances at the ice. “Nobody wants to be partners with someone like that.”
“I do,” I declare, my voice resolute. “I am. Tell me how you need me to hold you.”
Hesitantly, Sierra takes my hands and places them just above her hips.
“Like this?” I ask, feeling the weight of my palms flat against her body.
She nods once before Lidia’s whistle sounds.
“Practice that lift with the new placements and take off into doubles,” she orders.
We’re both breathing hard after coming off the spin. When Sierra glances at me, her gaze snags on my hands in my red gloves, the ones she knit me, and her lips quirk.
In my periphery, a few girls I don’t recognize wave at me from the sidelines. I wave back and notice Sierra watching me. “What?”
“Aren’t you going to go over there? They seem … eager.”
I shake my head. “Unfortunately for them, I’m off the market.”
Sierra furrows her brow. “You?”
“Yup, I’m saving myself for marriage.”
She snorts out a laugh. “You couldn’t save yourself for marriage if you tried.”
Fucking feels like that’s exactly what I’m doing. “Are you trying to tempt me?”
“You’d know if I was trying to tempt you, Dylan,” she says. “And you wouldn’t last a second.”
“Wanna bet?”
She shakes her head. “I like bets that make me work for it.”
“I can make you work for it, Sierra. For as long as you want. As hard as you want.”
A new energy spark between us, like someone’s lit a match.
This time when we twist and turn, we don’t lose eye contact.
That’s when I feel the change in her. It’s like a firework shooting up from the ground, and into me.
Because she nods once, and then my hands draw her in from her waist, and I toss her forward.
One, two, three, four twists, and she lands with posture so clean, I’m left blinking in pure fucking awe. She just did a quad twist.
She gasps when she does, eyes shooting to mine. We’re both wide-eyed.
“Holy shit,” she whispers just as I do.
And then she’s in my arms again. Crashing into me harder than ever.
Sierra lets me lift her up as she wraps her legs around my waist and puts her hands on my shoulders.
A loud, uninhibited laugh bursts from her before she buries her face in the crook of my neck.
Her sweet cherry smell clouds my senses, and I suppress the satisfied groan rising from my chest.
“You did it,” I say.
“We did it,” she corrects, vibrating with excitement.
I can feel her breathe out a disbelieving chuckle, pressing her cold cheek right against mine.
Her arms tighten around me, and her blunt nails press into the fabric of my cotton T-shirt.
The rush of having her want to hold me this tight makes my blood burn hotter.
My lips brush right against her ear, her cold skin against my mouth. “I’m so proud of you, baby.”
A slight tremor runs through her. “Me too,” she whispers.
Slowly, I glide us back to Lidia so I can keep Sierra in my arms a while longer.
“Krasivo. What did I tell you?” Lidia shouts. “Slow and steady.”
“Slow and steady,” I repeat to Lidia, because Sierra is clinging to me, and I’m not ready to let her go.
Lidia’s smile slips just momentarily. I’m not sure what she sees, but whatever it is, it makes her clear her throat and clap twice. “Let’s end on a good note. See you tomorrow.”
“We should celebrate,” I whisper to Sierra, pressing the words to the cold shell of her ear.
She pulls back and I put her down. “You and me?”
I stare at her. “Who else?”
“Like a date?” Her nose scrunches like she’s repulsed by the idea, still avoiding eye contact.
I clear my throat. “As friends.”
“Oh, so we’re friends now?” Her lips quirk. She’s struggling with a knot on her skate. I lift her leg and wedge it between my knees, undoing her laces for her. She watches me carefully, a hint of something unreadable in her gaze. “Can I bring a friend?”
I shrug. “Sure.”
She smiles tightly, and I’m not sure I like how it makes me feel.