CHAPTER 1 OF CRUISING ON ICE #2
I shot the ice a parting glance. Littered with blue, silver, black, and gold streamers and other fan fare, it was a visual reminder of the Voltage’s perseverance.
They’d been in last place for most of the season, barely earning a spot in the playoffs.
And that was all thanks to Kingston’s record-breaking goal scoring after the NHL team sent him back.
I had pushed him not to think negatively of the demotion and just to take charge of what he could control.
And boy, could he control that puck!
The lounge was already bustling when we arrived. Jackson followed me over to a television monitor in the corner. On the screen, a few players sat at a table, answering questions from the media.
Kingston was doing the majority of the talking.
His scruffy playoff beard and longer-than-usual hair just added to his hotness score.
I smiled up at the screen with so much pride for my friend.
He didn’t usually enjoy giving interviews, so the journalists were taking advantage of the opportunity.
I felt bad for the other players on the panel, especially the captain, goalie Jason Dexter, who’d broken the team’s all-time record tonight for saves in a single game.
The Madison Muskrats had shown up to play and had gone down fighting.
Kingston laughed at a reporter who asked him what had been the catalyst that kicked him into such high gear after being sent back down for the remainder of the season.
“Easy, Adri,” he said to the reporter, leaning in, his expression becoming serious. “I got myself a mindset coach. It’s a total game-changer.”
My jaw fell to the floor.
Jackson squeezed my shoulder. “He’s talking about you, you know.”
“Shh!” I shushed him as the reporter asked him more about me.
“Her name?” His smile grew. “Taylor Ranford. But I’m not sure she’s taking clients right now.”
I pressed my hand to my forehead and grimaced, thoroughly embarrassed. “Heck no, I’m not taking clients! I don’t have a certificate. I haven’t even chosen a graduate program.” I whisper-shouted at the screen. “Jax, what is he doing?”
Jackson draped an arm around my shoulders and grinned. “Giving credit where it’s due. Admit it, Taylor, you’re the reason his whole game changed. Whether you’re a certified sports psychologist yet or not, he and the team have you to thank for this victory.”
“That can’t be true.” My cheeks burned. I’d started “coaching” Kingston when I saw similar signs in him that my old teammate, Nya, had exhibited when she faced the end of her athletic career.
I couldn’t stand by and let him spiral downward.
Back then, if I’d had my current skills, I might have been able to help her, too.
“You know it is. Don’t start doubting that you’re good enough. You know, you and my brother have a lot in common. You’re amazing at encouraging others but underestimate your own abilities.”
A wave of overwhelm hit me like a brick to my chest. I was always complaining I wasn’t “seen” by others, and now Kingston had thrown me in front of the curtain on a stage I wasn’t prepared to perform on.
But Jackson had a point. I was good at helping others because I’d experienced self-doubt myself. Imposter syndrome was something I’d always struggled with, and helping Kingston process it had helped me, too.
I extracted myself from Jackson’s arm and walked back into the throng of people to wait for our siblings.
I wanted to leave as soon as I gave Chelsea a hug and congratulated Kingston.
I didn’t want to be cornered by teammates—or, God forbid, the press—about mindset coaching.
My sixty credits of undergraduate psychology classes in no way qualified me to be a counselor.
The spirit squad burst into the room and made a pom-pom tunnel for the players.
As soon as Chelsea’s arms dropped, Jackson made a beeline for her, lifting her off the ground in a hug that made me want to smile and roll my eyes at the same time.
I stood back so I wouldn’t get kicked by her flailing legs and scanned for Kingston.
“Baby, you’re burning up,” I heard Jackson say as Kingston found their family. I looked on with a smile when his parents started crying. They waved me over, but even though they considered me part of their family, I didn’t want to intrude on that emotional moment.
Waitasecond.
Chelsea was burning up?
Was she sick?
No, no, no, no, no, no. She was not allowed to be sick. We were boarding a plane tomorrow afternoon.
I closed the few feet between us. “Chels, are you okay?” When she turned her face, I saw it in her eyes. Makeup couldn’t hide everything.
Oh no!
She avoided my gaze.
My heart thudded in panic, and I forced a smile. “I’m sure it’s just the excitement.”
We were both really looking forward to this sister bonding time. It had to be something a good night’s sleep could fix.
“I don’t think so.” Her lash extensions drooped, and she leaned on Jackson. “I ache all over.”
“Aw, baby. Let me get you home,” Jackson said. “Taylor, you should stay and go on to the party. I can take care of her.”
I inhaled deeply, scrunching up my shoulders in frustration. “Yes. Fine. Okay. But you have to get better, Chels! We fly out tomorrow, and it would stink to be sick on the ship.”
“I don’t think you’re getting on a plane tomorrow, babe,” Jackson whispered to her. He looked at me. “Can’t you rebook?”
“No, we cannot rebook.” My voice rose in volume, and I cringed, blinking at him and hating my voice. I sounded like a little kid. Why would anyone ever take me seriously?
But was he serious? I loved Jackson and all, and he was normally a smart man—a doctor like his mother—but when it came to my sister, he was often just plain dumb. I gaped at him. “There’s no other time to rebook! Even if we could, which we can’t, because of the cancellation policy.”
I started to pace. I’d really been looking forward to this trip. I knew it wasn’t Chelsea’s fault she was sick, but why did it have to happen now, of all times?
“I have to report for competition in a week. And I still need to finalize a graduate program and find an assistantship. Hopefully one that pays, because coaching preschoolers barely covers the bills.” I was losing my cool for sure.
And I hated that. I knew my sister would feel bad about missing the trip, and my rant was likely making her feel worse.
All the stress of this gap semester was boiling up to the surface.
Jackson chewed his lip. “You could bring a friend?”
“Jax,” I said as calmly as I was able. “Who’s available the night before? I’ll just have to go by myself!” I threw up my hands and spun on my heel, crashing straight into the wall that was Kingston’s hard chest.
Oh, lord, that face. His concerned expression shot me through the heart, and I fought back tears as the heat spreading across my cheeks burned into my soul like a five-alarm fire, complete with sirens ringing in my ears.
Maybe I’d caught Chelsea’s cruddy cold. That had to be it, because I didn’t want to even think about the other reason.
“Hey, Lorikeet.” His arms shot out to steady me. “Yikes, what’d they say to get you so mad? Where are you going?”
“I’m not a bird. And God help you if you tell me one more time that I’m cute when I’m mad!
” I raised myself to my full five feet three inches—in shoes—and thumbed my hand in my sister’s direction.
I regretted the poor choices of my eleven-year-old self, who wanted to go by Lori because the mean middle school girls told me that Taylor was a boy’s name and didn’t match my baby voice.
I wish I’d never let even one mean girl get to me all those years ago.
Kingston could never seem to remember Lori, and he went through several ridiculous nicknames before settling on Lorikeet, Tay-lo being the worst. I shuddered.
The nickname was worse than my real name, but it stuck, unlike Lori, which no one except Chelsea had ever called me.
And she only did it to make me feel better.
Worst of all, Lorikeet reminded me that I hated my voice. Kingston had no idea the extent to which the nickname’s roots bothered me, and I had no plans to tell him. At least he purposely didn’t try to be mean about it.
“Taylor.” He cupped my shoulders and forced me to look at him. “Hold on. Where are you going by yourself?”
“My birthday cruise!” Salty tears stung my eyes, threatening to spill.
I felt terrible that Chelsea was sick, but .
. . I needed this trip. I needed a reset.
I needed to have fun without the pressures of real life.
“I know I shouldn’t complain. Chelsea’s too sick to travel tomorrow.
I—I’m going to have to go by myself or cancel. ”
Kingston looked past me. Maybe he’d think Chelsea wasn’t as sick as Jackson thought.
Doctors are super cautious by design, and Jackson was no exception.
Kingston had ignored his brother’s medical advice a gazillion times over the years, as many athletes and performers do.
I mean, what the heck? Chelsea and I were cheerleaders, for goodness’ sake.
We’d performed and competed with the flu, severe sprains, broken bones, you name it—even pneumonia.
It was too quiet all of a sudden. No doubt Kingston and Chelsea were doing that secret BFF-Jedi-mind-trick communication stuff they’d perfected when they were in high school. I followed his gaze.
Chelsea’s eyes were wide and darted from me to Kingston. “Maybe Kingston could go with you? Please, bestie? Watch over my sister and make sure she has a good birthday? Jackson can check in on your cats while you’re gone.”
Kingston dropped his hands from my shoulders and folded his sculpted, beefy arms across his chest. The side of his mouth turned up. Did he think this was funny?
“On the cruise? And to Disney World afterward?” I asked. “Chels, no. I’m fine, really. I’m sure he has plans—”
“Sounds fun,” he said.
“No, you can’t go, Kingston!” I shook my head in disbelief.
As much as I would love it—STOP, Taylor.
Hasn’t happened, won’t happen, ain’t ever going to happen.
I took a breath to steady my thoughts and turned back to my sister.
“Chels, he freaking just won a championship. There’ll be interviews, appearances, parades—this team hasn’t won a championship in decades—the town is going to want to celebrate! ”
Kingston’s jolly bark of a laugh cut me off.
“What’s so funny?” I furrowed my brow. “That was an incredible game. You were amazing out there. You even got a hat trick!”
“Well, thanks.” Did his smile look a little sad?
“But we don’t get that kind of attention, Taylor, not at this level of play.
Our season is over. We’ll have our big celly tonight, but I’m free after that until I start coaching kids at the Plex.
Hopefully, the win will entice Denver to bring me up permanently, but it’s a waiting game right now.
” He waggled his eyebrows. “A cruise sounds fun. Plus, I like the sunshine. I haven’t been on a cruise or to Disney since I played in Orlando. Fun times.”
I could only blink at him. I think I moved my mouth, but nothing audible came out. Was this really happening? Play it cool, Ranford, I coached myself.
“Oh, that’s great!” Chelsea croaked. Huh. She’d sounded fine ten minutes ago. “I was really nervous at the thought of her going by herself.”
“Wait!” I poked Kingston in the chest. “First of all, I don’t want you to come if it’s only because you’ve got nothing better to do.
Second, what was that mindset coach thing about?
Don’t try to distract me from that. That wasn’t cool.
Third, it’s too late to amend the reservation without paying hefty fees. ”
“Hey, no, don’t think that, Taylor. We’d have fun.” His assurance seemed sincere, but I was skeptical. Why would he want to do this for me? He had to have better things going on this week.
“We’d all feel better that you’re not going on a cruise by yourself. It’s not safe,” Jackson said before Kingston could address the mindset-coaching thing. “And this guy has extra cash from that sub-shop endorsement. What’s that jingle again, King?”
Kingston snorted and held up a fake sub. “A Cityside sub after a night on the ice is my idea of something that’s reeeeeeeeally niiice.”
I rolled my eyes before pleading with my sister. “Chels, how do you know you won’t be better in the morning?” I asked. “Maybe you ate something bad or—”
Chelsea’s already flushed face reddened even more. “It’s—”
“Sounds like bronchitis,” Jackson said.
“Really.” I pursed my lips.
“I can get Mom or a team doc to verify if you want,” Jackson said with a shrug.
I sighed and waved my hands for emphasis, as if that would make my heart stop racing. Even thinking about Kingston being on the cruise with me made it go into overdrive. “No, it’s fine. I’m so sorry you’re sick, Chels. Really. I’m just . . . sad, I guess. And I know you must be, too.”
“We’ll plan another trip, Tay. Promise.”
I nodded and turned back to Kingston. “Pick me up at eleven at the gym, Brewer. Bring that snazzy suit you wore to your last away game. And you’ll need a pirate costume and your skates. There’s an ice rink on the ship.”
I turned so abruptly, my sneakers squeaked on the floor. I had a little over twelve hours to get my head on straight. This could be the best week of my life, or the worst. There could be no in between.
“Taylor, wait!” Kingston caught up to me. “Are you going to the after-party? We could ride together, and you can fill me in on the itinerary.”
I stopped and sucked in a deep breath as he cut in front of me to open the door to the hall.
Better to embrace it than to fight him. The kindness in his expression did me in, and all at once, my smile was real.
Always attentive, he naturally put others at ease.
That was part of the reason I’d given up trying to find anyone like him.
Guys like Kingston were few, and they were usually snatched up young.
“Sure, thanks. That would be great. I can’t stay long, though.
Early classes at the gym and all before we leave. ”
“Awesome. I don’t want to stay long, either. Just let me get my stuff—”
A reporter shoved a microphone between us. I stepped out of the way.
“Kingston, great to catch you! Is this your Taylor? What an amazing night you had. And a great interview after the game. But you didn’t mention your future plans. What are you going to do next?”
His eyes clouded briefly, and then he shot me a grin that made my knees weak. “I’m going to Disney World!”