Chapter Eight Rhys
Somehow, Sadie got to the rink before me, which makes me rush to get on the ice like an overeager kid for his first real game.
I don’t even bother to try to wipe away the cheesy smile that hangs off my face almost constantly around her. She turns every hesitancy into excitement, every anxiety back into near bliss in the way it used to be for me on this ice.
I wonder if I could convince her to She’s the Man herself onto the men’s hockey team so I never have to be on the ice without her.
God , I’ve got to get it together if I’m going to be “Captain Rhys” again by next month.
Trying not to disturb Sadie mid-routine—because I can tell it’s full-out from the intensity of her movements, the artistry so beautifully woven into it that it makes my chest ache.
I clench my fists to trap the anxious monster in my head that’s so desperate for more of her, worried if I even stare too long at her, I won’t be able to stop myself from doing something insane—like pinning her to the boards again.
Or seeing how light she is in my hands. Could I hold her up with one hand while the other presses—
A loud crunch and hard bang rip me from replaying my inappropriate dreams, shooting the heat in my body away with an ice-cold plunge of terror as I watch Sadie slide on her stomach into the boards, hard.
She doesn’t move.
She’s on her goddamn stomach on the ice and she isn’t moving.
Fuck .
I think I’m going to be sick.
I shout for her in a blind panic, jumping the boards in my sneakers and racing to her sprawled figure. I briefly wonder how in the world she stayed calm that day she found me lying on the ice, because I’m losing my mind at the image of her here now.
When I make it to her side, she’s shaking.
“Sadie?” My voice is quiet as I kneel down to pull her up. She’s like water in my hands, boneless and slipping away as I try to at least prop her back against the boards.
My hands hover in the air over her body. I’m desperate to check that she’s unharmed, but too scared that I’ll frighten her or expand her anxiety.
She’s crying, nearly sobbing, like she can’t take a breath. Panic is still racing through my veins, but I try to concentrate on her.
“Hey, breathe—remember?” My hand presses back the tangled pieces of her hair that have escaped her ponytail. “I know it feels like you can’t, like you’re dying, but focus on my hands.”
I reach down and press her hands into mine. For how flushed her cheeks and neck are, her hands feel like the ice we’re sitting on.
“Try the threes rule,” I say, whisper-quiet in the vastness of the rink. “My therapist tells me to think of three things you can hear, three things you can see, and three things you can feel.”
“Okay,” she huffs, her voice catching in a sob.
“Start with what you can hear.”
“My music.” She pauses and closes her eyes tightly. “Your breathing. The air-conditioning.”
“Three things you can see.”
Her red-tinged eyes open again, but only a few tears escape. “You.”
I can’t help the smile that slips out. “Try to be specific.”
“Your dimples when you smile. The pink cap on my skate laces. An old Bruins logo flag.”
“Good, last one. What can you feel?”
“The ice under my legs, the boards behind me.” She keeps her eyes locked on mine. “You holding my hand.”
“Good girl.” I squeeze her hands in mine. “Okay, Gray?”
The question makes her smile as she calms further and she nods, tears only slightly leaking down her cheeks. I hate the sight of it; I’m unable to stop myself from bunching my sleeve and wiping beneath her eyes.
“Gray?” she asks.
“It’s your eyes.” I smile.
She giggles, but it turns into a sob. “Sorry,” she says.
“Nope. Not doing that apology thing.” I wince as my mouth opens again. “I know we said no questions—”
“Rhys—”
“—but I have to ask, because this is new.”
Sadie starts to stand, climbing me like my body is purely there to support her—a thought that intrigues me more than it should. I help her, towering over her even without my skates on, while she steadies on her blades.
Finally releasing her lip from between her teeth, Sadie huffs a breath and lets the words fall from her mouth like a waterfall.
“They’re cutting the concession area hours for the rest of the summer, which means I’m losing that job.
And I can’t do coaching on the schedule they offered so I won’t have that to replace it.
Not to mention, I wouldn’t be like this if I could just get laid, but apparently that’s not happening for me right now.
So I’m trying to just work all the time.
But my job near campus only has so many hours until the semester starts. And Oliver needs new skates—”
Her chest starts to heave. I firmly press a hand down on her sternum, trying to bring her back.
“Stop for a second.” She nods at me appreciatively. “Let’s go somewhere else today.”
She’s already shaking her head.
“I need to practice. You need the ice time—”
“One day won’t kill us.”
If Bennett or any of the team could hear me now, they’d think they’d entered an alternate universe.
Instead of waiting for Sadie to acquiesce, I slip my arm under her legs and pick her up in a bridal carry. She squeals lightly but doesn’t complain as I walk slowly back to the gate and all the way into the locker room.
“Do what you need to do and then come out to my car. I’ll go wait there.”
And without thinking, I drop a kiss to her forehead and pick up my gear bag, turning to leave the room before I can consider how ridiculous that move might have been.
“Extra cream cheese?” I ask, faking a gag. I’m quickly rewarded with an angry little push.
“No cream cheese?” Sadie fakes a gag, eyeing my savory breakfast sandwich. “Sweet over savory every time.”
We’re in my car, parked by a lake near town that Sadie had—reluctantly—suggested. It’s gorgeous and busy, but even with the golden morning light shining like a halo over the painting-esque view, I’m distracted by her.
She’s so beautiful; dark lips and thick lashes over her darting, intense eyes. That little patch of freckles that I want to touch almost constantly. Brown hair that I imagine would feel just like silk if I ran my fingers through it.
“I’m glad you seem better.”
“Thanks for the food. I think I was just hungry.”
I don’t think it’s that simple at all. But I can’t help the warm feeling that feeding her has given me.
“Sure.” I nod. “But I mean, I’m great at listening. If you want to talk about anything.”
Especially the part about getting laid.
I bite my tongue.
“I need another job, I guess, is the main point.”
I nod. That’s something I can help with.
“I need another instructor for the Learn to Skate classes, for the First Line stuff. I was going to ask one of the guys, but it would be great to have a figure skater there. We always get kids who want to figure skate one day.”
Her eyes go wide, fixated on me. “Really? And… and it pays?”
“Yeah.” I shrug. “Though, not much, but… probably close to what you made concession wise…”
“I’ll take it,” she blurts, cutting me off. Sadie blushes, but it quickly disappears as she turns away from me. “Sorry, about earlier. I’m not usually, I’m not so… sensitive. I have a better handle on things when I’m not so… amped up.”
“Amped up?”
She rolls her eyes, gulping down another sip of her iced coffee.
“I just need to work out my stuff… get laid, you know. Athletes do it all the time.”
“I don’t,” I blurt out, immediately wishing I could take it back. I bite down a little harder on my tongue to keep from asking her if she wants me to help with that.
If she wanted you, she would’ve asked. Fucking look at her—she’s not afraid of anything .
But the image of her vulnerable on the ice, looking up at me, flashes through my mind. I don’t want anyone else to see her that way.
“Serial dater?” she snorts.
“More like serially monogamous. But not anymore. I don’t—” I shrug, trailing off because I’m not sure what to say.
“Maybe you need to get laid too.”
My face burns and my hand fumbles to turn my side of the A/C colder before scratching at the back of my neck.
“I— What—”
“I wasn’t offering, hotshot.” She smiles but turns away just as quickly. “Trust me. That’s just… not a good idea.”
“Right.” I try to laugh. But I can’t help the singe of embarrassment staining my cheeks.
Of course not. Look at her and look at you.
Pathetic .
“For the record,” I say, looking out along the lake, across all the life around us. “I am offering.”
She’s silent. Smiling and shaking her head, she avoids every ounce of the eye contact I’m directing toward her.
But I can’t bring myself to regret it.