3. Chapter 3
Chapter three
~LILLY~
I’m on the floor near the rink, stretching one leg out in front of me while Stacey talks beside me and two of the other Academy coaches lace up their skates a few feet away.
The building is definitely getting louder than it was the first few times I’ve been here.
There’s more staff around, more movement.
A lot of signs that the off-season is starting to loosen its grip and the place is slowly shifting back into its busier version.
It’s been a few days since I nearly walked face-first into the same giant, tattooed man in Dr. Simon’s hallway. Not that I’m thinking about him.
Much.
I still don’t know his name, which feels odd since I’ve now seen him twice in two completely different parts of my life. I’m tempted to think that means something, yet I know it doesn’t. When I actually line up the facts, I’m the one wandering into his orbit, not the other way around.
I’m new here, enough that I still have to think for half a second before I turn down the right hallway in this building. From what I overheard that day outside my dad’s office, he’s obviously a big dog around here.
And Dr. Simon isn’t exactly some lifelong fixture in my routine, either. I’ve only been seeing him for a couple of months, mostly because his office is close to both the rink and my new place.
So, no, it probably doesn’t mean anything.
Behind us, a few of the staff are already getting ready, pulling on gloves, checking equipment, and talking through the plan for the day before the first wave of kids comes storming in.
I look over to a familiar, friendly face.
He’s leaning against the boards, already in skates.
I’ve talked to a few of my dad’s players, but Jace Colton has been the most frequent one.
He’s one of the easier players to be around, despite looking like he beats people up for fun.
He’s helped with the Academy a few times now, and the kids adore him.
Mostly because, from what I’ve seen, he’s one of the biggest faces attached to the team.
He turns enough to catch my gaze and immediately gives me a casual wave paired with an easygoing smile.
“Hi, Jace!” Stacey, another skater working with me, calls out to him.
“He’s in a serious relationship, you know?” I roll my eyes at yet another one of Stacey’s attempts to get Jace’s attention.
“Men like him don’t know what serious means,” she replies in a hushed voice.
“A couple of years dating the captain’s sister is pretty serious, Stacey,” I remind her as I take my skates out of my duffel bag.
“Lilly, look at him.” She sighs, propping her hands on her hips. “He’s definitely screwing girls left and right.”
I snort, shaking my head. I’ve talked to Jace enough times to know he adores his girlfriend. But arguing with Stacey always leads to nothing, so I let her be delusional and go back to my skates.
Soon enough, she’s back to telling me about her last competition, eyes sharp with that particular blend of ego and adrenaline active competitors always have. She’s still in it. Still traveling, still performing, still living my long-abandoned dream.
I feel the pang of bitterness and stop it from spreading.
It’s not her fault I messed up. Yet my eyes drift out over the rink for a second while she talks, and that little ache nudges again.
The old phantom pain in my thigh gives a subtle, dull throb.
I still miss it—the bite of the ice, the flight, the rhythm.
Even though I’m the one who let it go after my accident.
Stacey’s now talking about some other girl’s triple-loop disaster when her eyes flick past my shoulder toward the stands. Then she stops mid-sentence.
“Oh. My. God.” She grabs my arm, hauling me up. “Look who finally decided to show his face.”
I turn, following Stacey’s eyes toward the exit.
There are a few people scattered around, a couple of staff members, somebody from maintenance, one of the trainers, maybe, but my eyes go straight to the biggest thing in the room.
It’s him.
My stomach flips immediately.
He’s halfway across the stands with a black gym bag hanging from one massive arm, and even from this distance, there’s something absurd about the size of him.
The hoodie he’s wearing only really manages to hide the ink I know is there, but not the muscle.
His jet-black hair falls over his pale eyes as he walks with that severe presence that sucks the air out of the room.
He slows when Jace stops him near the exit. They say something to each other, and while Jace talks with his hands, the man just stands with that same stillness. Even though he’s nowhere near me, I still feel the stupid little drop in my stomach, like he walked right into my space instead.
I’ve caught myself thinking about him more than once since the last time I saw him. I don’t think it’s because I’m crushing on him. Obviously.
More because he feels like the kind of person who leaves a strange taste in the air after he’s gone.
I stare up at him, feeling that same jolt in my chest at the sight of him.
Stupid, honestly, because of course I was going to run into him again. He’s clearly with the team. This is not some cosmic coincidence.
From here, I can’t make out his expression, but I don’t need to. Something about him reads intense from any distance.
Beside me, Stacey lets out a breathy little laugh. “Unbelievable.”
I keep my eyes on him. “You know him?”
She turns to me, and I can feel the judgment coming before she even speaks.
“Know him?” she repeats. Then she gives a disbelieving laugh. “Babe. That’s Zed Mercer.”
The name means absolutely nothing to me.
Which must show on my face, because Stacey stares at me for half a second like I’ve just admitted I don’t know who Beyoncé is.
“Zed Mercer,” she says again, slower this time, as if repetition might magically install hockey knowledge in my head. “The goalie? Massive trade from Seattle? Two Stanley Cups? Ringing any bells?”
I blink. “No.”
Her mouth falls open.
“No?”
I shrug, suddenly defensive even though I’m not sure why. “I stopped watching hockey.”
That part is true. After my breakup with Liam, I stopped watching hockey and taking an interest in it. I stopped watching a lot of things. No hockey, no accidental reminders of a whole chunk of my life I didn’t feel like revisiting.
“That man is half the reason I took this position.” Stacey is still looking at me.
My eyes flick back up to him.
Stacey folds her arms, still staring at him with open appreciation.
“I thought if I took this job, I’d at least get to see him on the ice during Academy hours.” She snorts. “Joke’s on me. He never comes out when we’re here. Half the time, I only catch a glimpse of him coming off practice, and even then, I can’t get to him fast enough before he leaves.”
“So he’s a big deal,” I say.
“He’s Zed Mercer.” She gives me a flat look.
Which apparently explains everything.
I look back up as he parts ways with Jace, and his head turns slightly, enough for his gaze to drop toward the rink.
Toward us.
My heart kicks again as his eyes sweep the area.
Beside me, Stacey sucks in a breath.
“Oh my God,” she whisper-hisses, clutching my forearm. “Did he just look at us?”
I don’t answer because I don’t know, and also because my body has decided that this man glancing in my general direction is grounds for immediate internal collapse.
He looks away again, already half-turned toward the exit.
“Come on.” Stacey grabs my hand.
“What?” My head snaps toward her.
“He never shows up while we’re here.” She’s already tugging. “I’m not wasting this.”
“No.” I dig my heels in. “No, no, absolutely not. I’m working. The kids are about to get here, and I don’t know him, and also, you’ve clearly lost your mind.”
She keeps pulling.
“Stacey.”
“Lilly.”
“I don’t want to,” I hiss.
“This is an opportunity.” She grins without shame and tugs harder.
I should yank my hand back. Instead, I let myself get hauled toward the gate.
Every step makes it worse. My heart starts hammering harder the closer we get to him. Panic and curiosity make terrible roommates.
Stacey keeps walking, and I trail half a step behind her. I smooth a hand over my hair and adjust the sleeve of my zip-up as we get closer to him. I feel like I’m approaching Mount Doom.
He turns fully toward us as we come to a stop in front of him, and for one brief, deeply regrettable second, my brain offers up nothing at all. No language. No oxygen. Just the brutal fact of his slightly confused gaze switching between me and Stacey.
This is the second time I’m seeing him up close, but this time, I have the opportunity to actually take him in.
His face is perfectly symmetrical, youthful, yet his eyes are anything but. They’re assessing, and their lack of opacity makes them even more devastating. His clean-shaven cheeks hollow out even more as he parts his full lips half an inch, ready to speak. Probably to ask us what the hell we want.
Stacey launches right in.
“Zed,” she says brightly, like they’re old friends. “So good to finally see you here during Academy time. The kids would die if you came out and ran a few drills with them sometime.” She smiles up at him. “They’d lose their minds.”
He gives her almost nothing. His eyes narrow a little, as though the suggestion itself irritates him.
Then his eyes move past Stacey and land on me.
“Hello again.”
The flutter in my stomach grows unbearable.
There are butterflies, but they are not gentle butterflies. They are panicked and flying directly into walls.
An awkward smile slips out as I lift my hand in a tiny wave, like I’m five and meeting Santa.
“Hi.”
Stacey’s head snaps toward me.
“I thought you didn’t know him?” Her eyes dart between us.
My mind scrambles for a response as I look from Stacey back to him. He offers no help. I blink at Stacey. I can’t say yes, we’ve bumped into each other outside our therapist’s office. But that’s private information, and I’m sure he wouldn’t appreciate me giving it.
So instead, I panic.