Chapter 11
MAC
Iswear I die for a few seconds, and Wayne Gretzky welcomes me at the pearly gates of heaven. I roll onto my back on the ice and suck in a lungful of air. But I knocked the wind out of myself.
Feet slide into my peripheral vision and Fee crouches over me. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry.” She places a gentle hand on my chest, then moves to run her fingers through my hair, which I immediately want her to do on repeat until the end of time. “Did you hit your head? Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” I wheeze. My embarrassment is a giant wearing an ostentatious outfit, but other than that and feeling like I’ve been punched in the gut, I’m great.
“You went down hard.” Her cringe says it all.
I push into a sitting position. I’m wearing jeans and a hoodie, no gear, so I was without padding to soften the fall. “I’m really okay.”
I’ve taken plenty of hits on the ice, but nothing decimates an ego quite like tripping over my own fucking feet in front of the girl I like. I booked private ice time to break out of my hockey funk.
“Why are you practicing on your own?” Fee asks as I get to my feet.
Beyond this arrangement, Fee is also my friend. If I can be honest with anyone, it’s her. “I’m trying to turn my season around.”
She nods slowly. “So you booked extra ice time.”
“Yeah.” I rub my bottom lip.
“Why not ask Brody or Gage to practice with you?” she asks. “I’m sure they’d be happy to get out here with you.”
“They would, but—” I blow out a breath. “—everyone’s always on Brody about his brother and his connections and I don’t want to be one of those people for him.”
She tips her head. “You’re his roommate, though.”
“Still feels like taking advantage, you know?”
Her expression shifts to empathy. “Unfortunately, I do, but he’s your teammate and your friend, I don’t think he would see it as you taking advantage.” She motions to the pile of pucks. “You’re closer than you think with your shots on net.”
“I’m missing almost as much as I’m hitting,” I argue.
“Your ratio’s a bit off, you’re two out of three in the net,” she counters.
Fresh embarrassment washes over me. “How long have you been stalking me, Fee?”
She twists a lock of hair around her finger, cheeks turning pink. “For like, fifteen minutes, maybe, and I would call it active observation, not stalking.”
“Hm, convenient that they’re similar but different,” I tease.
Today there’s red paint under her nails and a streak of dark purple in her hair. “You’ve bulked up a lot this year.”
“I’ve been training to put on muscle,” I reply, somewhat defensively.
“I know, the gym selfies on your socials don’t lie.” She gives my biceps a playful squeeze.
“You like my gym selfies?” I press.
“You don’t need me to tell you you’re pretty, Mac. And I can appreciate hard work in all its various forms.” She rolls her bottom lip between her teeth. “But I do think all that hard work might actually be what’s throwing your shot off.”
I’m still focused on the fact that she’s been creeping on my social media posts, so it takes a moment for me to dial in. “How do you mean?”
“How much have you gained this season?” Her gaze roams over me on a slow sweep. “Like fifteen pounds? Twenty? All pure muscle?”
“About that, yeah.”
She nods in contemplation. “So maybe it’s thrown your center of gravity off.
Like Callie had a wicked growth spurt this year and it threw stuff off for her.
Maybe it’s the same for you, and it’s changed the way you’re moving on the ice?
I’m no coach, but I’ve spent an exceptional amount of time in arenas watching other people play and coach. Maybe I can be helpful?”
Fee might not play hockey, but she’s grown up surrounded by players. Still… “I don’t want to take advantage.”
“I’m the one who stalked you into the rink, Mac. I’m offering, so there’s no taking advantage here,” she assures me.
“Okay. It’s worth a shot.” And I get to spend time with her, it’s a double win.
Fee’s whole face lights up. “Great!”
“I love that smile.”
She pushes on my shoulder. “Oh my God, stop.”
I put my hand over my heart. “Seriously, Fee. I vow to make you smile like that as often as possible.”
“More hockey, less flirting.” She points to the cones I set up, but she’s still smiling. “Show me the moves that make all the girls wild for you.”
“Your wish, my command.” I bow as I skate backwards to the pile of pucks.
She shakes her head and rolls her eyes, but that smile remains.
I hook a puck with my blade and move into position, passing it back and forth as I skate around the cones, then break into a sprint before I pivot and slap the puck. It ricochets off the bar, just an inch shy of going in.
“Okay. Stay there!” Fee calls out.
“What? No heckling?”
“You’re already up in your head enough as it is.” She skids her way to the pile of pucks, gathers a handful and slides over to me, dropping them at my feet. “We’re going to work on your form and your shot before you skate the cones again.”
I smirk. “You’re the boss, Coach.”
She pokes my cheek. “Put your dimple away.”
I gaze down at her, loving the easy banter. “What’s wrong with my dimple?”
“It’s distracting.” She eyes my cheek with irritation.
“Why? And why do you look mad about it?” I press.
“Focus, Mac.” She snaps her fingers and points to the pucks in front of me.
“I am focused. You’re not going to answer the question?”
“It’s not relevant right now.”
“Yeah, but I’m curious. Why is my dimple so offensive?”
“It’s my kryptonite, okay? Now put it away so I can focus.”
I bring my hand in front of my face and adopt a neutral expression as I lower it. “Better?”
“Immensely.” She fights a smile and motions to the pucks. “So shots on net are all about the angles, right?”
I nod, maintaining a somber expression. “Correct.”
“I’ve noticed you have a habit of going wide, which means your angle is off. But it wasn’t like that last season, was it?”
“No. Last season I had a solid scoring record,” I reply. “It was a personal best.”
“And you weighed significantly less, so maybe it’s the root of the issue.” She rolls her bottom lip between her teeth. I want to tug it free, because like my dimple, it’s distracting.
“Mac, you still with me?”
“Yeah. Yes. My weight gain might be contributing to my declining stats.” Anything to logically explain why I’m struggling this season would be better than peaking before I graduate.
“Okay, so take the shot again for me.” Fee stands back and watches while I shoot the puck.
This time it goes in.
“Okay, hit all those in and let’s keep track.”
I can see parts of her sister who coaches the Terror in her.
She’s observant, and I wonder how much of that comes from her life in an arena, and how much comes from all the people she watches in the name of creating art.
I fire the rest of the pucks at the net.
She’s right: two-thirds hit the mark while the rest go wide.
We gather the pucks and move them back to the starting point to try again.
“Move into your shooting stance for me,” Fee instructs.
“Ma’am, yes, ma’am.” I salute her and do as she asks. “Now what, Coach?”
“Make like you’re going to take a shot on net, but stop before you make contact with the puck.”
“Sure thing.” I take the swing but don’t fire the puck at the net.
Fee instructs me to do it again a few more times as she shifts her position, watching me from different angles. I love having her eyes on me. “Now take the shot for me, please.”
It goes in but skims the bars.
She skips and claps, almost losing her balance. “I think I have it figured out!” She circles around behind me and settles her hands on my hips. “I’m going to adjust your stance to see if it helps,” she explains.
“Sounds good.” I relax my stance for her. “How do you want me?”
“That’s a loaded question,” she murmurs, then adds, “Nice and loose for me.” As she runs her hand along the outside of my thigh.
I shoot a grin over my shoulder. “I’ll do my best.”
She rolls her pretty eyes and adjusts my shoulders, tipping the right one back an inch, then moves around in front of me, adjusting my hips.
She tucks a finger under my chin, tipping it up until our eyes meet.
“Now show me why all the girls can’t get enough of you on or off the ice.
” She winks, then slides backward, giving me space to shoot.
“I thought you told me to can it with the flirting.”
“Just speaking your favorite language, Mac Attack.” She motions to the net. “Now hit me with your best shot.”
I laugh. “Oh, that was—”
“—Amazing, I know.”
I line up the shot and take it. This time it slides into the net. I shoot the rest of the pucks, only missing the last two. Fee repositions me, tweaking my wrist incrementally, before I try again, and this time get nine out of ten shots. The next time I get them all.
“Fuck yeah!” I skate over to her, wrap my arms around her and lift her off her feet as I spin us in a circle. “You’re officially hired as my personal coach.”
“I’ll take my payment in popcorn and Smarties,” she jokes.
I set her down all smiles. “I hope you know you have to be at all my games until the end of the year.”
“Girlfriend duty implies this, but I was already coming anyway,” she says softly.
“You’re a good coach.”
“Thanks.” She tosses me another puck.
I catch it on the end of my stick, flip it in the air, and aim for the net, making the shot.
“Look at you, superstar.” She claps and does a hip shimmy.
“Seriously, though, we made more ground in an hour than I have in the last five solo sessions I’ve booked. You saw the issues right away.”
Fee leans against the boards while I practice taking more shots.
“I’ve spent an extraordinary amount of time in arenas not playing hockey.
I used to take Callie to her after-school practices, especially during my senior year of high school, when we moved to Toronto and Lexi got the coaching job with the Terror,” she explains.
I pause and focus on her. “So it was more because you had to and less that you wanted to?”
She shrugs. “I didn’t mind. When I was young, my mom would be there, and she’d help me with homework, and it was a chance to spend time together, but after my parents died…
” She swallows thickly and glances away for a moment.
“I had to step in because Lexi basically became a single parent who was also coaching a pro hockey team.”
“That must have been hard on all of you.”
“Sometimes it felt impossibly heavy,” Fee confides.
“Callie was so young, Lexi went from sister to parent, and I helped where I was needed.” She smiles, but it’s sad.
“Anyway, lots of time in an arena means I know a ton about hockey even though I don’t play, so my being your fake girlfriend comes with added perks. ”
I want to tell her that this isn’t fake for me, but what if she doesn’t feel the same? I risk making things awkward. Especially we’re talking about what and who she’s lost.
“You know I care about you, right? You’re important to me beyond a label.” I want to be honest, but this isn’t the time. I skim the back of her hand, offering comfort instead. “I’m really sorry you lost your parents, Fee. I’m here for you, however you need me.”
Her smile softens. “Thanks. I’m lucky to have Lexi, and Roman is like…such a good guy. It doesn’t fill the hole, but it helps.”
I close my fingers around hers. “You can talk to me about it, you know?”
She blinks a few times and nods. “It just gets me up in my feels.”
“C’mere.” I tug her closer and wrap my arms around her.
“You’re going to make my feelings leak out of my eyes if you’re not careful.”
“Tears don’t scare me, sharks though…”
She laughs and I squeeze her. “Seriously, I’m not afraid of feelings.” Just about being honest when it comes to mine.
Fee links her hands behind my back and settles her cheek on my chest. “I love your hugs.”
“They’re yours whenever you want them.” And so am I.