Chapter 27
Ice Rink Epiphany
Vince
The ice bites at my blades, foreign territory after fifteen years of dry land. Saturday morning finds me laced into skates that feel like strangers to my feet, surrounded by the clatter of helmets and the gleam of hockey sticks—a family portrait of mismatched skill levels.
Andy's arrival in his rust-bucket car after his workout was a bolt from the blue. The girls, pampered with a rare sleep-in and breakfast, lounged while I stood there, dumbstruck, as he announced our destination with that maddeningly confident grin of his.
The realization that Andy and Malia have been exchanging numbers sends a jolt through me.
Panic, cold and sharp, cuts through the morning air. Their secret conversations unspool in my mind like a film reel I can't stop. What do they talk about? Is she plotting to replace me? Her texts to him already outnumber mine to her. Have I officially been dethroned?
Then, a darker thought, one that makes the bacon I'd burned this morning churn in my gut: Does she have a crush on Andy?
His orientation wouldn't be a deterrent—Malia has always been drawn to the unattainable. I shove the thought aside with the force of a slapshot. Nope. Not today. Not ever.
And yet, there she is, my Malia, gliding across the rink with an effortless grace that leaves me speechless.
Where did she learn to skate like that? Tina, on the other hand, clings to the railing like it's a life raft, her helmet swallowing her head, stick drooping like a wilted flower.
At the far end of the rink, Andy scoops up a puck, his movements fluid as water.
I remember boasting to Andy about my prowess on the ice when we first met, words that now come back to mock me.
The cold surface reflects my nervous expression.
This old man is about to be exposed. Once, I was damn good out here, blades carving patterns in the ice that others could only dream of.
Now, my balance is a distant memory, my muscles protesting with every tentative push.
A fall wouldn't just bruise my ego; it would shatter something brittle, probably a hip.
Andy doesn't seem fazed. Neither does Malia.
This is going to be a disaster.
"Hey, it's weird, right? Being back on the ice?" Andy asks, skating circles around me like he was born on skates. He tosses Malia a stick, and she catches it effortlessly, like they've been doing this for years.
"No kidding," I mutter, trying to act like I'm not struggling to stay upright.
"When was the last time you skated?" he asks as he glides past me.
"Over fifteen years ago, back in Minnesota," I call after him, my voice echoing across the ice. "You're about to find out how much I remember... which is absolutely nothing."
Andy's laughter rings out, bright and clear, and a smile tugs at my lips despite feeling like an idiot wobbling on the ice. He glides back to me, the blades carving clean lines in the frozen surface, and hands me a stick before dropping the puck nearby.
"You'll remember. It'll come back fast," he says, his confidence in me almost irritating, yet somehow reassuring.
"We only have the rink for two hours," Malia points out, gesturing toward Tina who's clinging to the railing like a lifeline. "She needs to figure this out, or we won't be able to play."
"I'm falling every five seconds, dude! How am I supposed to play?" Tina yells before plopping onto the ice with an exaggerated groan that makes the frozen surface vibrate. "This sucks! And shut up, Dad."
I can't help laughing, earning a death glare from her that would make any lesser man wither. In my distraction, I nearly wipe out myself on the other side of the rink, my arms flailing wildly until I regain my balance.
Andy, meanwhile, is skating like a pro, his movements fluid and confident as he sends the puck sliding toward Malia.
My heart stops for a second.
He hit it harder than I thought he should, but Malia takes the pass like a champ, awkwardly but successfully sending it back across the rink with a thwack of her stick.
"Malia, where the hell did you learn to do this?" I shout, my voice filled with awe.
Somewhere behind her helmet and curtain of hair, I think I see her smile, a rare treasure these days. My heart soars. I haven't seen her smile like that in months, not since before the divorce, not since she started pulling away from me.
Andy had been right. The muscle memory comes back to me faster than I expect, my body remembering what my mind had forgotten.
After about fifteen minutes of standing on the sidelines, pretending I'm not ready to join the game, I finally jump in.
Skating feels natural again, like no time has passed.
I move freely, smoothly, just like I used to as a kid growing up on frozen ponds in Minnesota.
For the first time in a long time, I feel.
.. light. Like the years that have passed since I'd last skated don't matter.
Like falling wouldn't break me after all.
I don't tell Andy he'd been right, but I'm sure he can tell. I'm not great at hiding how much I'm enjoying myself, and he always sees right through me.
I catch his gaze on me a few times, and every time I meet those big blue eyes, I melt. He doesn't look away, and it's like he has a spell over me, keeping me grinning like a fool as we skate, the cold air stinging my cheeks in the most exhilarating way.
We play for the full two hours. Even Tina gets involved for a bit, eventually abandoning the game to skate around with her phone blasting music that echoes across the empty rink.
It wasn't her thing, but she enjoys herself without complaining, and I'm proud of her for that, for trying something new even if it didn't become her passion.
Toward the end, I skate with Tina, helping her stay upright as we spin in slow circles, her laughter echoing across the rink like music. For a moment, everything feels perfect, like all the pieces of my fractured life have somehow clicked into place.
Her hair is the shortest she's ever worn it, her sleek black strands ending just below her chin, with short bangs framing the piercing blue eyes she'd inherited from her mom. Malia's eyes, dark and rich like mine, are a constant reminder of how much she takes after me.
I'd been just as much of a pain in the ass to my parents at her age... maybe worse. After all, I'd gone and gotten married to my high school girlfriend right after graduation, thinking I knew everything about life and love.
Malia hasn't done anything nearly as reckless as I had back then. Yet.
As Tina and I twirl together on the ice, I can't help but see traces of my baby girl beneath the thick layers of makeup she wears. She's sixteen now, and with Malia's antics always stealing the spotlight, the fear that Tina feels forgotten gnaws at me, a persistent ache in my chest.
I let Tina spin out from my grasp, then blow her a kiss across the cold air. She catches it dramatically, her cheeks flushing a deep pink when Andy lets out a sharp, appreciative whistle.
She nearly loses her balance, then exaggerates her movements like she's performing for an audience, making fun of herself. She eats up the attention, her eyes bright with mischief.
I glare at Andy, though I can't suppress the grin that tugs at my lips. "What the hell are you doing?"
Malia snickers from across the rink.
"Don't be jealous," Andy says with a smirk that dances in his eyes. "You're pretty too."
"Can you not be lewd around my kids?"
Malia bursts into laughter, the sound echoing across the ice.
I skate over and give her a playful shove. She's thin as a rail, so I barely touch her, but she still hits the sidewall with a hollow thud.
I freeze, horrified by the sound.
Andy and Tina's laughter rings around us, their joy a stark contrast to my sudden panic.
"Malia, you okay?" Andy calls between laughs.
"Shake it off, sweetheart. You're fine," I say, trying to cover my rising alarm. "Hey, remember when you took that basketball to the face sophomore year and broke your nose?"
Malia laughs as she pushes off the wall and flips me off before skating toward Andy, who lightly taps her on the shoulder in response.
I flip Andy off. Malia flips me off again. Andy, grinning, raises both hands to double-flip me off, and I can't resist throwing up both my hands too. Malia falls into another fit of laughter, her body shaking with mirth as she skates in circles around us.
Andy winks at me, biting his bottom lip as he skates away. The sight of it stirs something low in my gut. I want to bite that lip, too. I push the thought away quickly.
Time slips by in a blur. My lungs ache, and my cheeks grow numb... partly from the cold, but mostly from smiling for the past hour and a half.
It's the most fun I've had in years.
Toward the end of our session, Andy and I fall into some kind of silent, playful rhythm. We pass the puck back and forth, catching each other's gazes, and smiling wider each time our eyes meet. It feels like a secret game.
He starts teasing me, poking at my stomach as he zips by when Malia has the puck. I should shut it down, but I can't. I fucking love it. My ears probably turn red from how hard I'm smiling.
At one point, he tries sneaking up on me again, but I grab him around the waist, and we both nearly hit the ice face-first. Instead, we slam into the sidewall, laughing breathlessly as he slips down onto the ice.
"You're lucky this isn't real hockey," I say, grinning as I skate around to face him.
"Oh yeah?" Andy leans back on his elbows, still catching his breath. "What are you gonna do, Vince? Come at me or something?" The way he says it stirs a physical part of me that I need to keep under control, and I nearly panic.
"Yeah, I'll come at you," I shoot back with a smirk, offering him a hand up.
He takes it, and I help him up... only to jab him lightly in the ribs as soon as he's on his feet. He laughs, grabs my arm, and yanks me down until we both topple onto the ice.