23. Sydney
twenty-three
sydney
The last time I went skating was with my father.
Seems fitting that the first time I go skating since then would be with him, too. I’m not sure what spurs it, but he called me early on a Saturday and asked if I was free. I looked down at myself, my sports bra damp with sweat and the little hairs on my neck stuck to my skin.
The run was invigorating, but something is off with me.
I didn’t care about the pain. And it probably doesn’t have anything to do with the bruises that showed up on my throat, wrapping all the way around my neck like a collar.
It certainly doesn’t have to do with the nightmares or emptiness that has bloomed in the wake of zero emotional support.
L. never texted me, Oliver seemed to pull a disappearing act this week. Penn skipped all three of our classes. And Carter… out of sight, out of mind? I don’t know if Penn scared him off or what. But I haven’t talked to him.
My phone and bag were both waiting for me on my bed when I got home from my adventure with Oliver. There was a bottle of cold water and ibuprofen on my nightstand, which was considerate of him. At least I know Penn can break into my apartment like he threatened.
Dylan’s first volleyball game is in two weeks. She made sure to let us know that Brandon, Maddy, and I are all expected to be there under penalty of death. But that just translates to longer, harder practices.
Maddy’s presentation is coming up.
Brandon has been working more.
No one has asked me about the scarves I’ve been wearing all week, and I’m just tired .
But maybe hanging out with my father is what I need, so I agreed.
He picks me up an hour later and drives me to the public ice rink. It’s already crowded with people who skate counterclockwise around the oval. We park and stare at it, and I let out a little laugh.
“You probably could’ve gotten us into the arena,” I point out.
He chuckles, too, running his hand down his salt-and-pepper goatee. “Yeah, but this has a hot chocolate stand. And I sort of expected it to be quieter.”
In the last week, temperatures have plummeted. The rink, which is hosted and maintained by the mayor’s office, is situated in the park across from City Hall. It was just installed earlier this week, I think.
“I brought Perri’s skates, but I also got you a pair to take home… in case you want to break them in and do this again.”
I glance at him. A black beanie covers his hair and the tips of his ears. Black jacket. We match, him and I. I’ve got a black headband warming my ears and a black winter jacket zipped up to my throat. A thick scarf is wrapped over it just in case.
He goes to the back to get the skates. I open my door and swing my legs out, breathing in the cold air.
Which is how I hear someone call, “Hey, Coach!”
Dad turns, frowning at Oliver and Penn. They have their hockey skates slung over their shoulders, and they come up to him from the other side of the vehicle.
Which means they don’t see me until Oliver peeks into the bag in the trunk and sees two sets.
Or maybe three, since Dad mentioned buying me a pair.
Oliver rounds the back bumper and stops short. His face looks worse after a week of healing, all that damage from his fight with Carter. Or maybe it’s from their fight ring. Even though they haven’t lost at home, that could’ve been a lie.
I don’t really think I can trust anything they tell me.
“You two are supposed to be resting,” Dad says to them. “We have a game tomorrow.”
“We just wanted to check out the new rink,” Penn says. “If we knew you were going to be here, we would’ve skipped it.”
His last words are for me, his gaze finding mine through the glass.
Ouch .
“Those yours?” Oliver points to the bag.
I can’t see them, so I shrug.
“They’re Perri’s,” Dad says. “We’re going to try them out, although they might be too small.”
Oliver wrinkles his nose. “Figure skates, though? Really?”
I make the same face.
“Okay, Syd.” Dad laughs. “I guessed you might react like that. Which is why I got you these.”
He produces hockey skates. Oliver, still in the space between our truck and the car beside us and blocking Dad from reaching me, takes them from him.
I meet his gaze. He doesn’t seem angry with me… I actually don’t know how to read the expression covering his face. And I certainly don’t know how to react when he puts his knee down on the truck’s running board and picks up my foot.
He unlaces my boot and tugs it off.
I’m having a Cinderella moment, and it’s really fucking weird.
True to the fairy tale, the shoe—err, skate —is a perfect fit. In that it’s the right size anyway. They’re brand-new, which means it’s going to suck skating on them today. I have no doubt everyone knows it, but it’s just one of those things.
You deal with it, and then the skates get better.
He puts on the other one and does up the laces. I’m having flashbacks to my father in the same position, easing any worries about the kids he coaches in a low voice while he tugs at my skates.
“Good?” Dad asks.
Oliver rises, and I nod.
“They’re perfect. Thank you.”
“One problem.” Oliver glances around. “You’ll ruin the blade walking across the lot.”
Dad frowns.
“Yeah, that’s—I’ll just take them off and put them back on by the ice?—”
“Nah, I’ve got it.” Oliver steps into my space and slides his arm under the crooks of my knees. The other goes across my lower back, and he easily lifts me out of the truck.
I glare at him.
Dad does, too.
“Ruiz,” Dad warns.
“I’ve got her, sir.” He heads up the path toward the skating rink. It does seem to be thinning out a little. “Have you skated before?”
I don’t answer.
“Silent treatment?” He sighs. “I just want you to know that we’re dealing with him.”
Whatever they did to Bear isn’t enough.
“His actions aren’t going unpunished,” he repeats from earlier.
We get to the section where everyone puts on their skates. The ground is covered in rubber mats. He sets me down.
“Go walk around for a few minutes and come back. Get warm. It’ll help mold the skates to your feet.”
I wave him off, but I do as he says. While Dad, Oliver, and Penn all skate up, I pace in circles around them. Finally, I drop down onto the bench next to my father.
“You could’ve grabbed something secondhand,” I say to him. “Or I could’ve rented a pair…”
He pats my knee. “You kidding me? Now you can come skate during practice like the good old days. You were pretty good, you know.”
“Good at what?”
“Everything. Hell, I’d bet you still are.”
Gosh. My throat closes, and my eyes burn. A change in subject would be grand, but I can’t seem to get any words out. When’s the last time anyone said I was good at something?
Never.
“Sydney…”
I swipe under my eyes. “I’m fine. You should go warm up, old man. I’ll join you once I’ve properly baked these suckers.”
“Okay, Syd.” He pats my knee and rises, jostling Oliver in a way that feels like they’ve known each other a long time—and they like each other.
I don’t really see the appeal.
The two head for the rink, and Penn takes Dad’s spot next to me. He stares after them, his brow furrowing. We sit in silence for a long moment.
I’m not going to be the one to break it. He’s been avoiding me, skipping the one class we have together. Well, they’ve all been avoiding me. And it’s made people like Andi start throwing daggered looks in my direction again.
Not that that’s why I want him to talk to me.
Maybe life will get easier if I don’t have the two menaces trying to ruin me.
“Do you like Ollie?” he asks me.
Oh. “Um, not particularly.”
“Why did you go with him instead of me?”
He’s hurt. I reach for his hand and squeeze his fingers.
“I didn’t want comfort,” I say in a low voice. “I just wanted… an outlet. I’m sorry. I don’t know what we are, but… I didn’t think you’d care.”
Penn meets my gaze. “I don’t care , I’m just fucking jealous.”
I smile.
After a second, he smiles, too.
“You snuck into my apartment as promised.”
“You were sleeping. Didn’t feel right to wake you.” He leans in and tugs at the scarf at my throat. He swipes his finger across the mottled bruise that the soft fabric hides. “This hurts?”
“Yeah. But… you could sneak in when I’m awake, you know.” My face immediately heats.
He sits up with interest. “I hear some kink hidden in there. Tell me more, princess. Do you have fantasies about being ravished by dirty, dirty pirates?”
I snort. “Maybe not pirates. But goalies…”
His gaze darkens.
That’s my cue to rejoin society.
I stand and leave him sitting there. The skates still do not feel great, but I can’t imagine we’ll be on the ice for long. It’s not like I have to go out and play a game.
I wait for a break in the crowd and step out onto the ice. It’s the first time in a while, and I wobble rather dramatically.
Hands grab my hips.
I glance back at Penn.
He winks, then propels me forward. “Don’t even think about holding on to the wall.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I deadpan.
But there are a fair amount of people doing that, and the stability seems nice. Still. Penn lets me regain my balance, although he somehow skates close enough behind me without actually impeding my movement.
Until it all comes back to me.
Oliver and Dad catch up to us. I automatically hook my arm through Dad’s.
The smile that overtakes his face is infectious.
“Race you,” Penn yells at Oliver. “First back to Syd and Coach wins.”
He shoves Oliver to the ice, then takes off at a near sprint. Oliver’s laugh bursts out of him, and he climbs to his feet slowly—seeming to let Penn have a decent head start before he gives chase.
“Racing in goalie skates,” Dad laughs. “Now I’ve seen it all.”
“Don’t you bag skate them?”
As in, coaches making their players skate until their legs fall off.
“Only when they deserve it,” he replies.
We track their progress. Oliver, predictably, catches up with Penn easily.
When they’re halfway across, I tug Dad’s arm. “Let’s make it a little longer for them.”
He agrees, and we skate across the center ice. We do it twice more before they catch on—and catch up . They’re both breathing hard, their faces flushed.
I can’t stop giggling.
“Not fair,” Penn gasps. “I’m fit but I’m not that fucking fit.”
“Penance for skating when you should be resting,” my father says.
Oliver snickers, but his forearms are on his knees. He and Penn skate out ahead of us. It’s actually nice. Being here with not just my father, but the guys, too. Especially since they seem to be on their best behavior.
“Your old man’s going to take a hot chocolate break,” Dad says in my ear. “You okay with them, or do you want to come with me?”
“I’m okay for now. But I do want a hot chocolate later.”
“Deal.”
He ducks out when we pass the opening in the boards, and I navigate my way between Oliver and Penn. They were just ahead of us, discussing something while they caught their breath, but now they both straighten.
Things have obviously been shifting between us. I want to understand it more, but I also don’t want to jinx it.
“What were you discussing?”
They exchange a glance over my head.
“Oh, come on.”
“We were debating if you liked what went down in your dad’s office,” Penn finally says. “Minus the coercion. Or…”
“You’re thinking about sex?” Jesus. “Well, my preference is to avoid an audience of the bitch who hates me and my ex-best friend.”
They both smirk.
“The rest was cool?” Penn clarifies.
“It wasn’t cool,” I mutter. “Neither of you are getting in my pants for a long, long time.”
Oliver bumps my shoulder. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, doll.”
I groan. “You two are trouble.”
“Double the trouble?” Penn asks.
“Double the fun,” Oliver finishes.
Yeah, I’m so fucking screwed.