Chapter 18
“Good job, Eddy,” I call to the kid making so many slap shots I'm surprised the six-year-old goalie is still standing. “Try aiming for the corners next time.”
“That kid hits like you,” Erik says, elbowing me in the ribs. “Lots of power but all over the place.”
“So all over the place that I've scored the most goals this season,” I mutter, pushing off on my skates and heading back to the kids we teach. I don’t acknowledge that over half of those goals were because of his assists. He already knows that.
“Yeah, but that’s only because I had that injury the first few games. I’m coming for you, Hendricks,” Erik says as he skates beside me.
Oh, he's following me?
I was hoping he was taking the hint, but I guess after having a great dinner with my sister and Alex and Brooks, he thinks we’re all good now.
We aren’t. I doubt we’ll ever be, and yes, the team has pointed out on several occasions that I’m being petty. I’m not. I’m protecting myself and any future girlfriends I have from embarrassment.
“If by 'injured' you mean 'missing the net completely,' then sure, I can see why you’re behind me,” I respond, skating faster to put some distance between us.
Erik laughs and thankfully gets distracted by a kid trying to use his hockey stick as a limbo pole. “Hey! Jackson! That's not what those are for! Keep it on the ground.”
Sometimes I wish he wasn’t so good at everything. Maybe then I wouldn’t have to be around him as much.
I loop around the rink, watching all the kids practice and adjust a few of their sticks as I pass. These kids are in the advanced hockey program for their age, and I’ve been nothing but impressed with their abilities.
“Hey, Hendricks,” Brooks calls as he skates up beside me, looking at his clipboard. “We’re running the passing drill next.”
“Sounds good,” I nod, ushering the kids to line up along the boards. “I figured we’d—”
Smack!
I stop mid-sentence, my attention caught by the noise, worried it’s one of the kids. Nope. They’re all good.
There are a few more grumbles, and that’s when I turn to glance at the public skating side of the rink. There’s a woman there, on her knees and crawling to the boards. I look around to see if there’s anyone here to help her.
By the time she reaches the side, and pulls herself up, her feet slip underneath her, and she’s falling again.
I wince, not wanting to look, but it’s like a car accident. I can’t stop myself.
She pulls herself up one more time, and her arms are visibly shaking.
That girl can’t skate.
Hell, she’s doing so badly, I’m not even sure she can stand.
Still, there’s no one coming to help her.
Did she come here alone?
I glance around the rink again, but the only other people here are the parents for our class. No one seems to be with her.
Her whimper echoes across the rink, and I’m the only one who seems to have noticed.
Then she moves again.
What’s she doing?
She uses the boards to pull herself forward, inch by inch. Her beanie is shoved so far down it’s basically a blindfold, but I’m guessing if she lets go of the boards to adjust it, she’ll slip again.
Is she trying to get off the ice? At this pace, she’s gonna need a rescue team, because she’s not making it off this rink anytime soon.
Her front skate slides out, her whole body pitching forward in this tiny, panicked flail. One more second of this and she’s going down hard. Yeah, okay. I’m definitely not leaving her. She needs supervision.
“Earth to Scotty,” Brooks waves a gloved hand in front of my face. “You with us?”
“Yeah, sorry. I just…” I shake my head. “Will you close out the session for me? I need to sort something out.”
“Where are you going?” Brooks calls after me.
I point my stick in the girl's direction. “She looks like she's in a little trouble.”
“Always the white knight,” Brooks teases.
“Yeah, well, I've got to get to her before Erik does.”
“Good point.”
I barely take three strides in her direction before her legs fly into the air and she wipes out so hard I swear the boards vibrate.
By the time I reach her, she’s swearing under her breath, promising herself she’s not going to cry.
Clearing my throat, I offer out my hand. “Here, let me help you up.”
“Thanks,” she murmurs, slipping her fingers into mine as she flips her dark hair over her shoulder.
When I see who it is, I freeze.
Am I seeing things?
“Laura?” Her name barely makes it past my lips. My grip tightens just enough to steady her but not enough to give away the way my hands are shaking. I can’t believe she’s here. After months of giving her space, of waiting for her to reach out…she’s here.
Trying to skate…terribly.
Her expression shifts so fast it’s almost whiplash—gratitude to pure disgust in under a second.
“Scotty.”
She yanks her hand out of mine, and without my support, falls straight onto her ass. The thud echoes over the entire rink, loud enough that even the kids look over.
I wince, knowing she’s going to have a bruise after that one. Then I crouch down, wrap my hands around her ribs, and lift her easily. Her little legs dangle with the heavy skates on, and the second the blades hit the ice, she wriggles out of my hold.
“I don’t need your help,” she snaps, grabbing the boards. Although she thinks she’s got a good hold, I can already see her skates slipping underneath her.
“Ahh!” she cries, her feet falling forward.
I catch her again before she hits the ice, pulling her in until her chest brushes mine and her skates stop slipping.
“Oh, Princess,” I murmur, leaning down just enough to hear her breath hitch. “Pretty sure you do need my help.”
Her hands find my shoulder, her fingers clutching at my hockey jersey as she takes slow, even breaths that I can feel across my jaw. We’re inches apart, close enough that I can count every freckle on her nose, more than sure this is never going to happen again.
“Don’t call me Princess,” she pants out, but there’s no bite to it. It’s not a real pushback. If anything, I think she’s studying my face too.
It’s been a year. An entire year I haven’t seen her. I looked up every single theater production Covey put on, hoping to see her name, but didn’t see it once.
I never saw her in that year, but she looks just as beautiful.
She closes her eyes and pushes off me, or at least I let her pretend she does the work. I guide her toward the boards, my hands firm at her waist until she has something solid to hold onto. Only then do I release her.
She lets out a frustrated breath and tugs her beanie into place, lifting her chin as she straightens, acting. Her chest is heaving, and the hand on her hip is pure performance.
Her body is trembling, her heavy breathing is screwing with her core strength. She’s one wrong move away from falling again.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
Her eyes track my body as she takes in my hockey gear. “I could ask you the same thing. I thought you only skated on campus.”
I tilt my head, suppressing my smile because she’s just admitted so much without realizing it. She specifically came to this rink to avoid me, which only means one thing.
She was thinking about me, and fuck, that ignites so many thoughts in my mind.
I want to tell her everything. That I’m sorry. That I didn’t speak to Erik for months because I was so angry with him. That I’ve just been waiting for her call, but I hold myself back. She’s not here because she wants to see me. In fact, she’s here for the exact opposite.
So I settle with answering her question instead.
“Practice and games are at the rink, but I’m here for my job. I teach kids Friday mornings as part of the outreach program with the school. I’ve been teaching kids for as long as I can remember.” I point over to the kids who are currently leaving the ice.
Her face falls, and she swallows. “Y-yeah. I guess I forgot about that.”
“Really? Because I haven’t forgotten anything about you.”
Did that come out a little stronger than I intended? Yup, but I can’t help it. I have no filter when it comes to her.
“Ugh. You’re insufferable,” she mutters before she starts to slowly crawl across the boards. When I say slowly, I mean I’ve seen snails move faster. At least she’s putting one skate in front of the other. That’s a start.
I shift slowly, watching her feet.
“Um, Laura. I’m not trying to be a dick, but it looks like you’re a beginner, so I’d probably recommend one of those penguin assists, if you don’t want my help. I can get one for you if you'd like?”
“No, thank you. I'm fine,” she growls.
She waves her gloved hand in my face, trying to mask the strain, but it's obvious. Her body is literally shaking as she tries to hold herself up beside me.
“I don’t have to get it. I could just put it on the ice and push it in your direction.”
“Stop talking, Scotty. Please.” Her voice cracks. “Please just leave me alone.”
I back away a little, but I can’t go far. I can’t leave her.
“What if I don't want to?” I admit. Laura seems to hate me, but I'm hell-bent on understanding more about her.
“Why? Because you want to embarrass me some more? Show off to your friends that you can douse me with water, or make fun of my career, and I'll still come crawling back to you like every other girl at Covey U?”
My mouth opens but I honestly have nothing to say to that because I’m shocked that she thinks that at all.
“That’s not what’s going on here, Princess.”
“I told you to stop calling me that.” Her lip is trembling, and she's now dragging herself with her hands on the boards to get away from me.
“I'm sorry.” There’s another grunt of annoyance from her. “And I’m sorry I’m going to do this.”
I take her hand and place it over my shoulder, then wrap my arm around her waist to keep her from face-planting again. The wild part? It actually works. Her shaking stops, her breathing evens, and—God help me—she relaxes right into me like she forgot she hates me.