Chapter 6
STAYING UPRIGHT
STELLA
Aiden has his helmet on crooked, skates tied as best as I could get them, and I doubt he cares. He just wants to see Eli again.
“Mom, is he here?” He asks for the third time since we arrived, neck outstretched, scouring the people and kids waiting to get on the ice.
“He might be.” I remain calm, at least on the outside. “Remember, this is a group program. It’s not just him and you.”
“I know.” He hangs his head as if he’s disappointed to share. Then he brightens up. “There he is.”
My head snaps up. Eli pushes through the doorway from the ice to the waiting area. His eyes find mine right away before addressing the crowd.
“Hello everyone. Thanks for being here tonight. Sorry for the delay, but we had to operate the Zamboni to smooth the ice before we started,” he explains.
“Oh, oh!” One little girl, one of two here that I can see, raises her hand, excited to ask a question.
“Yes, Tessa?” Eli calls upon her.
“Can we ride the Zamboni?”
“I know it looks like fun, right? But it’s actually a pretty complicated piece of machinery that resurfaces the ice, so we’ll look, but won’t touch,” he answers, then calls upon another kid with a question.
“Can I be the goalie? I really wanna be one so I can wear a cool mask.”
“Well, we’re not exactly forming a team tonight.
You have a lot to learn first, like staying upright on the ice.
But my teammate Sean is here from the Aspens, and he’s our goalie.
You can be on his team, okay? So let’s get started.
” He charms everyone with his smile and holds the doors open, greeting each child as they go by.
There are about a dozen or so families here for this class.
Since the moment Aiden saw Eli present to kids at his school two days ago, he begged me to let him take part. I couldn’t refuse.
I swallow and focus on the sign-in table instead of my pulse picking up for no good reason. This is fine, just a hockey lesson led by a man who used to get me wet with one look.
We’re the last to pass him through the doorway.
I want to rush inside, but I almost trip of my my son who pauses.
Eli’s warmth and aftershave hit me with a blast of emotions from the past. What is that scent?
It’s more mature than in college, something classically male, bold and commanding, finishing with an enticing note of “hold me now, please.”
It’s ridiculous, these feelings from another lifetime, but my body recognizes the shift in the air, the subtle awareness of someone too familiar occupying the space.
“Good evening, Stella,” he quickly nods, his smile but a smolder. Then he turns his attention to Aiden. “Hey there, buddy. I’m glad you’re here. Ready to learn?”
“Yeah!” They fist-bump. “I practiced last night in socks down the hallway until Grandma yelled at me to stop.”
“I used to do the same thing when I was little.” Eli laughs and crouches down to his level as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I was glad to see you signed up.”
“Can I be on your team again, Mr. Eli?”
“That’s the plan. But how about you call me Coach Eli from now on?”
“Okay, Coach,” Aiden bypasses him, heading for the ice.
“You’ve made his year with this program,” I say, nervously hitching a backpack more securely on my shoulder. He notices.
“Wow, that thing looks heavy.” His dark blue eyes gaze at me in a way that could be lethal to my heart if I let it. Doesn’t help that he wears an Aspens ball cap backward, his hair tucked under it, just like he often wore in college—but I’m not here for him.
“It has my laptop in it. I’m hoping to get some studying done while Aiden’s here.”
“Perfect time management. I’ll keep him busy for the next hour. Good luck on your studies, Stella.” He nods and heads toward the ice to get the class underway, taking his scent with him. I look away, and refuse to watch his ass stride off in those faded blue jeans.
“Remember, I’m only here for Aiden’s sake,” I grumble under my breath.
On the bleachers, I settle in, while he introduces his other teammates here tonight—Coaches Sean, Tyler, and Mason—and gives general announcements to the parents. It takes a minute to balance my laptop on my knees, but it works.
The class gets underway, and I start in on research for a project that’s coming due, but I can’t help stealing glances at Aiden often. And Eli, too—I study him a little too much.
The way he handles the children, he’s a natural. He’s gets on their level, relaxed and laughing with them, like this is exactly where he belongs. Heck, he would have made a brilliant teacher.
Twenty minutes in, Aiden wipes out hard, face-first onto the ice—thank God for mouth guards.
My heart lurches, instinct screaming at me to rush onto the slick surface.
I shoot to my feet, almost losing my laptop to the floor.
But Eli is there in a flash at his side.
He doesn’t grab Aiden right away, but pats his back with a comforting hand, talking to him and making sure he’s okay.
He crouches and waits, giving my son space to pull himself up.
On second thought, maybe I should let Mom bring Aiden to these things.
It’s never been easy to see my son hurt in any way.
But I breath once again when he plants his gloves on the ice and gets back up.
A minute later, it’s like nothing happened as he races down the rink again.
Eli gives me a thumbs up. I wave back, hoping Aiden didn’t scratch up his face.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, intruding on the moment. I hesitate, then pull it out. Jerrod’s name blazes across the screen. I should probably take this.
“Hi,” I answer, and I slip out to the waiting area, leaving the sound of skates and laughter behind.
“Just checking in. I wanted to talk about Christmas. About Aiden’s birthday,” he says, sounding distracted, papers rustling in the background.
“Okay.” My shoulders tense. He hasn’t visited Aiden since Easter, but I’m trying to be patient, considering his new wife and her kids take all his time.
“There’s a work thing coming up,” he continues, although his definition of work is a loose one.
When we first married and moved back to Chicago, he worked in his Dad’s small sawmill business, but they’d argued and he moved on, taking job to job, never happy.
I contributed, watching other people’s children in our home, getting paid under the table, but we were broke all the time.
Finally, he settled into commercial real estate and things improved for us little by little.
When he closes on a property, he flourishes, but he could go weeks or months until another one happens. “There’s a deal I’m chasing, a big one, and if it closes, it’d be around Christmas. I might not get away to visit.”
“Oh. I understand. Not sure Aiden will. He’d like to have a party with his friends this year.”
“It’s just… I don’t want to promise to be there, but end up disappointing him.”
My blood boils. I want to tell him he has already been the biggest disappointment ever. That when someone commits to a custody arrangement, it should be a priority in his life.
This news will hurt Aiden. Then again… I stare through the glass at the rink, where my son glides clumsily across the ice toward Eli, laughing when he nearly collides with him trying to stop.
Eli reaches out, steadying him without breaking stride.
The look the two of them share—it’s like they’ve formed a unique bond already.
“I think he’ll be okay,” I breathe. “We’ll figure it out.”
Jerrod exhales. “Good. I’ll call again soon when I know for sure.”
“Fine,” I reply, and he hangs up before I can say more—before he even thought to ask how Aiden is doing. If Mom were here, she’d yell at me for not reminding him he’s a few months behind on support.
I stand here longer than necessary. The phone grows cold in my hand. It’s been months since Jerrod last visited. He calls once a week to speak with Aiden, but the detachment and the distance build. Part of me wonders guiltily if he will even miss his father at Christmas.
When I head back inside, I take a seat on the bench, deliberately keeping my eyes off the ice. I pull out my laptop and pretend I can focus. But laughter erupts from the center of the ice where all the kids and Eli and his coaches are playing a game to finish out their time.
The thing is, Eli is a complication and a distraction, not a replacement for Jerrod. For my son’s sake and both our hearts, I cannot afford to let myself forget that.
When the class finishes, I gather my things and find Aiden in the waiting area talking with his friends. I head in his direction so we can get home and I can get back to studying as soon as possible, but a hand on my arm stops me.
I gaze down at where my skin tingles from Eli’s warm grip; my knees almost give out.
His hands could always do sinful things to me.
Back in college, we stole time together alone in either of our dorm rooms when our roommates were away.
Or, yes, even a quickie inside that famous cleaning closet in the hockey team’s locker room before a game. Is there a closet here in this rink?
I shake that dirty thought away, stay upright, and stand taller. “Yes?”
“Would you mind staying a few minutes longer? My assistant just texted to inform me that you forgot to sign one waiver for Aiden to play,” he explains.
“Oh, did I? Sorry.”
“Just wait for me. Everyone should clear out in a few minutes.” He walks off to join the other coaches in engaging with the parents and answering their final questions about the program as they all leave.