Chapter 6
EMMIE
Despite Marcy telling me to not get on the ice all weekend, I could only stay away for a few days. The rink was my home. I felt untethered without it. What Marcy didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.
Which was why I was pulling into the parking lot of the rink on Sunday afternoon. I’d be back here tomorrow for training, so today really was just for me to settle my mind a little.
I wasn’t going to stay long since I promised Erin I’d be back later for us to go to dinner with some friends.
I already dreaded going and having to be asked question after question about my career.
It was fine the first few times, but when people focused more on my Olympic background, it got annoying.
Slipping out of my 2024 Ford Bronco, I snatched my bag from the backseat, hefting it over my shoulder. The parking lot to the rink was quite busy, so I was about to either fight for space on the ice or the local hockey team was practicing.
The sun was warm as it shined down on me in my sweater and leggings. I wasn’t dressed for outside weather, but once I got inside and the chilliness wrapped around me, I’d be grateful for the attire I picked.
My bag hit my hip as I walked through the doors, instantly feeling the pressure on my shoulders ease. I smiled as a certain aroma hit me in the face.
The rink smelled like memories. Cold air tinged with the sweet bite of ice shavings, rubber mats, wet gear, and the faint whiff of Zamboni exhaust. Even the smell of wet gear was familiar. It reminded me of early mornings, competition nerves, and the comfort of routine.
I’d spent countless hours of my life on ice rinks. Stepping into the cold building was like a hug welcoming me home.
The second I pushed through the second set of doors, noise enveloped me. Kids talked loudly, some yelling and laughing, their voices echoing through the rink.
My eyes briefly scanned the area that was packed with kids in hockey gear as I made my way to the other side of the rink. I waved to a few familiar workers as I passed, the cold in the air nipping at my cheeks.
From the looks of it, hockey practice was wrapping up, so by the time I got stretched and got my skates on, I’d have the ice to myself. My body itched to get out there and feel the ice beneath my skates. Only a few days had passed, but it felt like a lifetime.
Spotting an empty bench, I took a seat and put my bag next to me.
Toeing off my slides, I brought my foot up into my lap to stretch my hips as I looked out to the ice again.
A few kids skated around, helmets off as they passed a puck around.
What drew my attention was the small crowd surrounding a tall man.
The man’s back was to me, and he had a hat on, so I couldn’t tell who he was.
More than likely, he was the team's coach by the way he was dressed in a dark gray pullover and track pants.
Whatever the guy was saying had the kids smiling and nodding along.
Even from here, I could see the way they looked at him with stars in their eyes.
It was a look I had as a kid when I first started skating and met Marcy.
That look of excitement and awe that someone saw something in me.
Having a good coach was key to success as an athlete.
One that supports, encourages, and believes in you can make a world of difference.
Without Marcy, I wouldn’t be the skater I am today.
I guess the same could be said about my father.
While I had my own feelings about him being a coach, he was probably the best one in the business.
I saw firsthand how the players respected him and vice versa.
My dad pushed the team to be the best they could be, but he didn’t need to do it all the time because they rose to the occasion.
Whoever this coach was for these young hockey players, it was clear he was doing a decent job with them. My gaze lingered on the guy for a second, noting the wide shoulders that made his pullover taut.
When he lifted his arms, I swore I could see his muscles ripple. I shifted forward to get a better view, but then I caught myself. Nope. No ogling the back of a random stranger, I scolded myself.
Maybe Erin was right—I needed to get laid. I was basically eye-fucking a random guy, and I didn’t even know what his face looked like.
With a shake of my head, I stood from the bench and finished stretching. At least from here I wouldn’t have a view of the ice.
I blocked out the rest of the noise as I prepared my body before putting my skates on. Today, I was going without the brace that protected my big toe when I did jumps. I slipped on one extra pair of thin socks over the ones I was currently wearing.
Too many socks made the skate tight and caused blisters, something you learned fast. Nothing was worse than blisters on your feet when you needed to effortlessly glide along the ice. You needed to make sure your laces were tight but not so much that there wasn’t any give.
In less than two minutes, they were on, my leggings tugged over the tops and ready to go. I kept my blade guards on until right before I stepped onto the rink. It wasn’t easy or cheap, for that matter, to keep your blades sharp. Walking on the padded mats around the rink dulled them fast.
Straightening up, I found most of the kids seated on benches and taking their gear off as parents trickled through the doors. Even though the rink wasn’t freshly Zambonied, I eagerly made my way to the little gate to the right of my bench.
With a flick of my wrist, I unclipped my blade guards, resting them on the side boards before stepping out. As soon as my skates touched the ice, I sighed. This was home.
The temperature dipped a good five degrees, making my leggings and sweater a smart choice. I briefly closed my eyes, soaking in the smell and the sound of my blades beneath me.
The moment I stepped out, it was like everything else faded away. Making it to the Olympics pushed to the back of my mind. Stress about my dad wasn’t a problem. It was just me, my skates, and the ice.
I was so focused on myself, I forgot others were still around until I moved around the corner and almost hit a person in front of me. I twisted at the last moment, shards spraying behind me as I used my toe pick to keep myself from pitching forward. Behind me, a muffled curse sounded.
I winced as I turned since it was entirely my fault for not watching where I was going. I came face-to-face with a chest before my eyes moved upward and met a pair of blue ones. It took a minute for my brain to register who was in front of me.
“Well, well, well, it’s Miss Not Happening.” The smirk on his face made my eyes narrow. “Now, who ran into who this time?”
Of course it was the same guy I ran into twice in the last five days. Mateo. Erin’s words about fate came to mind, but I quickly squashed it.
“It was an accident,” I responded back.
Mateo’s voice was teasing. “I almost think you’re stalking me.”
“Yep, I have your location on my phone,” I deadpanned.
His mouth quirked into a smile. “Kind of creepy since I don’t know your name, but I’ll roll with it.”
I ignored the way his perfect smile, white teeth and all, made my stomach swoop. Why does he have to have a perfect mouth on top of being good-looking?
“What are you doing here?” I questioned, glancing around to see we were the last ones left.
“I’m volunteering to help the kids with hockey. What are you doing here?”
I watched as his eyes moved from the bun on the top of my head, down to the skates on my feet. I raised an eyebrow when his eyes met mine again. “Obviously just here for a stroll.”
“Hmm, nice.”
The two of us stared at one another, neither breaking eye contact. His cap was backward, pieces of sandy brown hair sticking out from the sides. He had a few days’ worth of stubble on his face that made him look a bit older, but he was probably my age.
Up close, his blue irises were mesmerizing, like the Mediterranean Sea. I didn’t know eyes could be that color. I knew I was staring, yet I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
“So, you skate.” Mateo’s voice broke through the fog. I blinked slowly as he stared down at me. Amusement sparkled in his eyes, but at least he didn’t say anything about my staring.
“Yeah,” I replied, although I wasn’t entirely sure that was a question. Needing to move, I pivoted and gently pushed off the ice, skating ahead. I immediately heard him following after me.
“Are you ever going to give me your name?” he called out.
“Why do you want to know so bad?” I asked over my shoulder. With two pushes of his skates, he came up to my right side.
“Not sure you’d appreciate it if I called you woman or ma’am.”
I snorted. No woman liked to be called ma’am, least of all someone who was only in her mid-twenties.
“Emmie.”
If the universe was going to throw us together, I guess it was only fair to play along.
“Emmie,” he repeated, as if feeling my name in his mouth. “Nice to officially meet you.”
“You too.”
Mateo easily matched my pace as we skated around the ice. He made no notion that he was going to leave anytime soon. From the corner of my eye, I could see him open and closing his mouth like he was unsure of what to say.
“Football and hockey—sounds like you’ve got quite the busy life,” I said, putting him out of his misery.
“Looking me up, are you?” He sent me a grin that had me rolling my eyes.
“Don’t think so highly of yourself. You literally ran into me at the Titan’s practice faculty. Wasn’t hard to put two and two together.”
“Whatever you say.” His tone was teasing. I wanted to shove him, but I had a feeling he was pretty balanced on skates.
He continued, “Football obviously takes up most of my time half the year, but in the offseason I like to come here and help. The kids are pretty awesome,” he said, casually shrugging.