Chapter 35
IF YOU WANT ME
BJ
“You’re doing great with your physical therapy. Mobility is good. We’ll keep up with the weekly massage sessions to help minimize the internal scar tissue. You’re cleared to get back on the ice.”
“Already?”
The doctor nods. “It’s been a month, and you’ve put in the work.
I’m not saying start doing pirouettes and jumps, but putting your skates on and getting your body used to different types of activity will only help expedite the healing process,” he explains.
“It’s okay if you’re not ready, though. You’re still seeing the therapist I referred you to? ”
“Yeah. I’m still seeing the therapist.” I’ve needed a perspective that wasn’t one of my parents’ or my friends’, someone impartial to talk through all my fears with. To help me make sense of this.
“And that’s going well?”
“Yeah, she’s great.”
He nods. “Well, when you’re ready to take that step, the step is ready for you.”
He also tells me I’m cleared for other physical activities, but to be careful of overexertion. That’s one green light I plan to take full advantage of.
Mom is in the waiting room. She comes every week to take me to the doctor’s appointments, and Dad usually attends physical therapy with me.
I anticipate that they’ll be more attentive than usual for a while.
Mom is already talking about the holiday break and how glad she is I’ll be home for a few weeks.
A small piece of me feels bad that I didn’t go home to recover, but losing the entire semester wouldn’t have been good for my mental well-being. I needed somewhere else to focus my energy, and Winter and my friends have really stepped up and helped make it work.
When I come out of the office, the doctor shares the good news with my mom.
“I can see about getting us some ice time this week. I’ll make room in my schedule on whatever day works for you.” Mom is giddy with excitement as we walk to the car.
“I’m not skating at that rink again. Not after what happened there.” I have a giant pit of dread in my stomach.
“Of course not. Why don’t you come home this weekend? That would be better, wouldn’t it? To skate at the Hockey Academy?”
I’m quiet a moment as I navigate getting into the passenger seat. “Winter has a big game this weekend.” They’re playing the first-place team, and they’re currently in third. If they win this game, they’ll be in second.
“What about getting time at the school rink? I’m sure we could work something out there.”
“I’m not ready, Mom. I don’t want to get back on the ice yet.”
Her expression grows concerned. “Are your pain levels still too high? Do we need to discuss it with the doctor?”
I shake my head. “It’s not the pain. Things are better, less achy, and I’m getting my strength back, but I just… I don’t feel ready to put skates back on. I’m not there.”
She reaches over the center console and squeezes my hand. “Okay. We’ll give it a bit more time.”
The second Winter walks in the door later that afternoon, I pull her into the bedroom and kiss her. “Feeling up for a gentle Fucktastic Friday?”
She breaks the kiss and blinks up at me. “Did you get cleared for sex?”
“Sure did.”
“Oh my God. Oh, hell yes!” She yanks her shirt over her head and reaches for mine.
Clothes hit the floor until we’re both naked. Before we stretch out on the bed, she pulls out the box of condoms that have gone unused for the past month. Then we slow it down, making out, touching, groping, fingers exploring sensitive places, building anticipation of what’s to come.
Winter grips my erection, stroking from base to tip. “Should I be on top this time? Just so you don’t have to do all the pelvic thrusting? That could be hard on your thigh and maybe distracting.”
“Probably a good idea,” I groan.
She carefully straddles my hips. “Okay. Tell me if anything is uncomfortable.” She doesn’t settle on my thighs, holding herself above me.
The injury is healed from the outside. An angry red scar slices across the top of my thigh, the staple holes still visible, although those tiny wounds have closed. But there’s residual achiness and some neural pain the doctors said might take several months before it finally subsides.
“Do you want to put a condom on right away, or start bare? I finished my period two days ago,” Winter tells me.
“I probably won’t last very long without one.”
“That’s okay. I just want the connection. And we can always have sex again if one time isn’t enough,” Winter assures me.
“Start bare?” My erection kicks in her palm.
“I was hoping you’d say that.” She rises and slides the head over her clit on a soft sigh. She positions me at her entrance, and the head disappears, up to the piercing.
We both groan.
“Yeah, I’m really not going to last long, Snowflake, and I’m sorry in advance.”
“No apologies necessary. It’s been a long time, and it’s kind of an ego boost.”
I laugh and groan again when she drops down, taking more of me inside her. When her ass touches my thighs, she leans forward and brushes her lips over mine. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too.” I kiss her, distracting myself from the overwhelming sensation. She feels so good. All I want is to roll us over and start thrusting, but that will end things far too soon, and possibly set me back, so I let her take control.
Winter rolls her hips, and her eyes flutter shut. I can tell she’s getting close with the way her moans get deeper and her movements less fluid. I hold her hips, helping her keep her rhythm. Her gaze locks on mine as the orgasm rolls through her, muscles clamping down as she rides it out.
“I’m really close,” I groan in warning. There’s a pull in my groin that isn’t particularly comfortable, and something the doctor warned me about, but like all physical activity, my body will get used to it over time. So the more we have sex, the better it will get.
Winter lifts off and strokes me to release, then cleans up my stomach with tissues and stretches out beside me. We’re both sweaty, despite the complete lack of exertion on my part.
“God, I’ve missed sex with you.” She kisses the edge of my jaw.
“Same. I mean, I’ve missed sex with you too.”
“How was that? Everything feel okay?”
“Everything feels great.”
She shifts so her palm rests over my heart and her cheek rests on my diaphragm. “If you’re cleared for sex, that must mean you’re cleared to get back on the ice.”
“Did you talk to my mom or something?”
Winter frowns. “Uh, I love your mom—she’s awesome—but I’m never going to casually bring up sex with her.” Realization dawns as she puts the pieces together. “She took you to your appointment today, so she knows you’re cleared for ice time. When were you planning to tell me?”
“I don’t know. Later. After sex.”
She arches a brow. “I can book us ice time.”
“That’s okay. You don’t need to do that.”
“Talk to me. What’s going on in your head?”
“I don’t know if I can handle getting back on the ice yet.”
“You mean from a psychological standpoint?” Winter asks.
“Yeah.”
“You come to my games all the time.”
“That’s different. That’s me watching you, and you wear protective gear, so I don’t have to worry about you getting hurt or anything.”
She laces our fingers. “What’s this about, BJ?”
“What if I can’t get back to where I was? What if it’s too hard or the injury has messed things up so much that I’ll never be able to compete again?” I’ve been warned it’s a possibility.
“You’ll never know if you don’t try.” She sits up.
“I get that it’s scary, BJ. It was scary for me when I tried out for the women’s team.
All this hope and fear mixed together. What if I didn’t make the cut?
What if I made the cut and then screwed it up somehow?
What if I got close to the dream and couldn’t catch it?
But you were right there, telling me to take the chance.
You would never let me walk away from hockey if the roles were reversed. ”
“I have to start from square one.”
“I know. But I’ll get on the ice every day with you, if that’s what you need, BJ. You can’t avoid it forever. You love it too much.”
“Not as much as I love you.”
She smiles softly. “I love you too. Which is why I’ll keep pushing you on this. You can’t let fear hold you back.”
My avoidance of ice time ends abruptly the following evening.
I’m sitting at my desk in my bedroom, working on an assignment, when Winter comes in and closes the door. She crosses to the dresser and retrieves an all-black outfit. This means she might be planning to work out or something.
I abandon my reading and make it across the room by the time she’s down to her panties. I wrap an arm around her waist, and she links her hands behind my neck, tipping her chin up for a kiss.
When I start to work my way down her neck, she covers my mouth with her palm and pushes back. “I booked us ice time at the school rink. We have it for an hour from seven until eight.”
It’s six thirty. “I can make you come first.”
She shakes her head and steps back. She motions to her mostly naked body. “You can have me however you want me after ice time.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it, though? I seem to remember you pulling the same thing on me when we first started spending time together.”
“That was different. You didn’t almost die.”
Her expression softens. “You’re still here, thank God.
Still beautiful, still breathing, still living.
I’m not asking you to spend an hour on the ice.
I’m asking you to put your skates on and take the first step.
If that’s all you can handle, that’s okay.
But you can’t know unless you try. And afterward, we can take care of each other, because that’s what we do, BJ. ”
I sigh. “I’m really fucking nervous.”
“I get it. And I’d be sorry that I’m using sex as a weapon, but we both know part of you wants to get back on the ice, so I’m not above using your hormones against you.”
Twenty minutes later, I’m wearing skates for the first time in over a month. It feels weird, awkward. My thigh is already burning, and I haven’t even stepped onto the ice, but Winter is right. I can’t avoid this forever. And if there’s one person I’d want to do this with, it’s her.
She’s already out there—wearing a pair of black leggings and a fitted long-sleeve shirt that hugs every muscle and curve. The whole way here, she talked about positions and how much she’s looking forward to a marathon sex day when I’m up for it. I gotta admit, it’s a strong motivator.
She holds out a hand, and I slip my fingers into hers, putting one foot on the ice and then the other.
“How you doing so far?” she asks.
“I’m still breathing.” Memories of the last time I was out here hit me with a ferocity I don’t expect—how Adele and I had been on point, how clean the routine had been until it wasn’t. How everything changed in a second.
And then Winter was there. I see now what I couldn’t before—how scared she was at that moment, how bad the situation was. She wraps her arms around me. “It’s okay if today is a struggle, BJ. I’m here.”
I return the hug. I don’t know how long we stand there, but I’m grateful for the comfort her presence brings.
Eventually I pull back, and we link hands and do a slow lap around the rink.
Everything is stiff at first, and the ache in my thigh makes me sweaty and nauseous, but I push through, and Winter is right there, encouraging me, telling me I’m doing amazing and that she’s so damn proud of me.
After the first couple of laps, the sharp ache dulls, and the sick feeling in my stomach ebbs.
We keep lapping the rink until I tell her I’ve had enough for today.
We don’t use the showers at the arena. Instead, she takes me home and we get into the shower together and have slow, easy sex.
Then we climb into bed and make out some more.
“How do you feel now that you’ve been back on the ice?” She runs her fingers through my hair. It’s a lot longer than usual, in part because I don’t have a reason to cut it.
“Good. Better. Thank you for pushing me.”
“I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think you were ready.”
“I know.”
“You’ve taken the first step.”
“I just don’t know what comes next,” I admit.
“That’s okay. Skate because you love it and it brings you joy. We can figure out the rest from there.”