Chapter 33
Ellie
Cold air curls into my lungs as I stand on the ice in the middle of the empty rink mapping things out in my head. We’ve been rehearsing in the rink the last few rehearsals, and it’s time to make sure everything is finalized and ready for Pucks and Props night.
It’s in four days. The hockey team has a game tomorrow night, and then we have one more rehearsal before the final dress rehearsal. This night has to be perfect and I’m going to make sure it is.
Fifteen minutes later, the rink is full.
Skates scrape softly across the ice as the hockey students warm up.
They glide through the opening formation of the dance number.
Just weeks ago, they could barely keep a rhythm without tripping over each other, and now it seems like they could do this in their sleep.
To be fair, we kept the dance pretty simple, so they didn’t have to learn too many steps.
Plus, they are on skates, so it couldn’t be super complicated anyway.
I look over to the bleachers where my students are bundled in their coats and gloves running lines as the tech crew tests portable lighting rigs aimed toward center ice. Set pieces on wheels wait near the Zamboni entrance, ready to roll into place during transitions.
It’s coming together better than I imagined it would. It was definitely rough at first, getting these two groups to work together peacefully, but we did it. Jamie and I, we did it.
It’s been strange working so closely with Jamie while simultaneously screwing occasionally.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m enjoying the screwing.
It was unexpected, but maybe it was inevitable.
Living together, working together… there was no hope for us.
This was going to happen no matter how hard I tried to pretend that he didn’t affect me the way he used to.
But that’s the thing about old feelings. They die hard.
Clutching my notebook close to my chest, I take a deep breath before calling out, “Full run in five!” Everyone pauses where they are before heading off the ice and going to their separate corners of the large arena.
Jamie stands near the players’ bench, talking quietly with two of his forwards.
He came in slightly late, but I think he was at a physical therapy appointment.
We haven’t really seen each other since last night.
He was gone when I awoke, and then I came here.
Something about his posture looks loose, like nothing seems to be holding him down.
The weight he’d been carrying for weeks, gone. And then I see why.
Where is his brace? He’s always wearing it, especially on the ice.
Everything inside me stills, the air suddenly feeling heavier. For a short moment, the entire rink fades to background noise. I watch him put pressure on the leg that he’s been working so hard to heal, and a selfish thought becomes very clear in my mind.
If he’s better, he can leave. Leave Ellington, leave the Wolves, leave me.
I don’t notice I’ve started walking toward him until he looks up and catches me staring. The players beside him go quiet before walking off, talking about how they’re going to kick ass at tomorrow’s game.
I smile, trying to act as if this isn’t going to hurt like hell.
“How was PT?” I ask. He shrugs, like it was no big deal.
“Good. Really good,” he tells me, a small smile on his lips. There’s a gleam in his eyes, something I haven’t seen in a long time. Hope.
“You’re not wearing it,” I say.
His gaze flicks down to his knee, understanding what I’m referencing. “Yeah,” he chuckles.
“How?” The word slips out before I can stop it. How? Seriously, Ellie?
“Jared says we’re almost done,” he explains. “A couple more weeks and I’ll be cleared to skate. Not sure at what level, but I’ll be back on the ice.”
Suddenly, I feel like I could sink into the ground, and I kind of wish I would.
Cleared to skate, meaning cleared to go back, cleared to leave me behind again.
It’s selfish, I know. I should be incredibly happy for him.
That’s what he’s wanted since he got here.
I knew he wasn’t going to stick around forever, which is why I didn’t want to get feelings involved, but my stupid heart just had to go and fall in love with him, again.
Shit. I’m in love with him.
Forcing a smile, I say, “That’s amazing, Jamie. You’ve worked really hard.”
His eyes seem to search my face as if he’s trying to read between the lines.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I did.”
Silence stretches between us, filled with everything we’re not saying.
“Ellie, I’m not—” he begins, but I don’t let him finish.
“Well, I’m happy for you, Jamie,” I say quickly. “I really am. Now let’s get back to rehearsal.”
His jaw tightens. He knows what I’m doing. What I always do. I’m avoiding. Pretending that whatever just happened between us doesn’t matter, that my feelings for him don’t matter.
“Ellie, wait—”
I walk away before he can say whatever it is he was going to say, because no matter what he says, I know that if he has the chance to go back to the NHL, he’s going to jump at it. And I’ll be left alone.
“From the top of the dance!” I call, and everyone takes their places, including Jamie.
The music echoes through the open space as the guys begin to dance.
Jamie does his best, not putting too much pressure on his leg, but doing more than he could do a few weeks ago.
I really am happy for him. I’m so glad he’s on the mend.
However, I’m not dumb. I know that if he goes back, he’s not going to want me there to distract him.
After the dance, my students take the ice, the tech crew shuffling in all of the props and sets. They deliver their lines perfectly, April and Leo stealing the show with their beautiful performance. It’s short and sweet, and I think it will make people want to know what happens next.
The doors at the top of the bleachers creak open and when I look up, I spot Dean Ashby stepping inside, hands clasped behind his back as he watches quietly from the aisle. Why is he here?
I clap at the end of the performance, congratulating my actors and tech crew for an outstanding rehearsal.
“Alright, great rehearsal everyone. Two more before the big night. Get some rest tonight, and good luck to the hockey team on their game tomorrow,” I say before dismissing everyone.
Jamie makes his way over, stopping beside me.
We both peer up to see Dean Ashby walking down toward the boards, smiling wider than I’ve ever seen.
“This,” he says warmly, voice carrying across the rink, “looks phenomenal. You two did a fantastic job at putting this together in such a short time.”
Relief crashes through me.
“I cannot wait to see the full thing on fundraiser night.”
Emotion tightens my throat, and I look to Jamie, seeing that he’s smiling too. Except, he’s not looking at Ashby, he’s looking down at me. I quickly look away, clearing my throat.
“Thank you, Dean Ashby. It really was a team effort,” I say.
Once he leaves, Jamie and I collect our things in an awkward silence. Just as I’m about to head out, Jamie calls me.
“Ellie, please talk to me,” he begs. I turn back to look at him.
He looks desperate, like he needs me to tell him what I’m thinking.
I don’t want to, though. I don’t want him to know that I’ve gone and fallen for him after I’ve told him so many times that I wouldn’t.
That I couldn’t. I don’t want to admit that thinking of him getting better and leaving to go back to the Storm might actually break me to pieces.
“About what Jamie? I’m proud of you. Really, I am so happy that you’re healing and that you’ll be back on the ice soon. You deserve it.”
“I’m not going anywhere yet. I’m not one hundred percent, and I have to finish out the semester,” he explains. Oh, so those are the only reasons he wants to stay. Nothing to do with me or our, whatever this is. Relationship, situationship, whatever you want to call it.
“Right, well best of luck at your game tomorrow.”
With that, I walk out of the rink, leaving Jamie behind, where I should have left him in the first place.