26. Chapter 26
Chapter twenty-six
~LILLY~
Zed has been coming regularly to my classes since the first one three weeks ago. His schedule is so packed nowadays that this is one of the few times we can spend with each other. And so he never misses a day.
I can still see the tension in his broad shoulders and jaw whenever he steps over the red line, but he comes out anyway.
Sometimes it’s just to hand me a fresh water bottle at the boards.
Sometimes it’s to give the kids some words of encouragement.
And sometimes, like today, he actually steps in to run a twenty-minute passing drill before we wrap up.
The Blazers have racked up two wins since the blowup, but I know my dad is making Zed’s ice time hell.
I’ve been to a few of his practices and could clearly see my dad being hyper-critical, hostile, and pushing Zed to the limit.
I’ve tried talking to him a hundred times, tried explaining, pleading, yelling, but he’s stubbornly locked behind his own protective rage. He refuses to get it.
We’re in the final five minutes of today’s session, and Zed is standing near the red line, leaning his weight casually against a stick as he watches me run the kids through a basic stretch routine.
He looks devastatingly good each time I see him. Every single movement he makes stretches the thin fabric over his muscles, mapping out the prominent lines of his back and shoulders.
I catch him staring through his dark lashes. His pale eyes are locked onto me, and the unblinking focus of his gaze has an instant effect on me.
“Alright, guys, stick taps for a great practice!” I call out, my voice slightly breathless as I clap my hands. “Go to Milo.” I point at one of our volunteers who usually helps with their skates and equipment.
The kids bang their sticks against the ice while they skate toward the benches. The moment the last little helmet disappears behind the doors, the arena drops into a quiet hush.
I look back at Zed, who pushes off with a smooth stroke of his blade, gliding toward me until his shadow swallows me. His hand comes up to pull me against him before he crushes his lips onto mine.
The kiss is blatantly filthy, Zed’s tongue sliding into my mouth, curling and teasing until I’m breathless.
“I thought those little buggers were never going to leave,” he murmurs against my mouth.
I let out a laugh and place my hands on the tensed wall of his chest, feeling the heavy thump of his heart beneath the compression fabric.
“You can call them that all you want,” I tease, my thumb lightly tracing the hard line of his jaw. “I see the proud look on your face whenever they do something well. You care about them.”
Zed lets out a grunt, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I show up for you.”
My dad has tried to cut him off at every turn. Over the last two weeks, he’s yanked me off the ice three different times during my scheduled sessions, replacing me with other academy instructors just to keep Zed away from me. But Zed keeps coming back anyway.
“I’m proud of you,” I say softly, looking up at him. “For doing this.”
His hands lock into the curve of my waist and he begins to slowly glide backward, pulling me along with him.
“What are you doing?” My skates automatically find their edges as he pulls me with him.
“Skating.”
He keeps moving, gliding backward with the ice humming under our blades.
He starts taking longer, deeper strides, dragging me into a fluid cadence across the open surface. My feet move on instinct, my edges matching his pace, but my heart starts picking up a nervous, fluttery beat against my ribs.
“Zed, they’ll want to run the Zamboni soon,” I say with a light chuckle.
“They can wait,” he murmurs. His large hands slide from my waist down to the tops of my hips, guiding my body through the turn as he begins to steer us toward the center circle. “We’ve never done this together. Just the two of us.”
“Well, you’ve been a little busy being, you know, one of the biggest names in the league.” I shrug with a teasing smile.
“Flattering,” he murmurs, his gaze dropping to my mouth before sweeping back up to my eyes. “How different do you think what you do is from what I do?”
“Well, for starters, we don’t beat each other bloody,” I laugh, leaning into him. “And there’s a little bit more… grace in figure skating.”
“Show me.” He shifts his weight and smoothly pivots us into an arc across the red line. I don’t have to do anything. The power of his lower body carries us both.
“Show you what?” I blink, shaking my head with a smile.
“Anything,” he says with a low, hypnotic murmur right against my ear as he leans down. He shifts his hands, sliding one palm around my lower back and pulling me tighter into his rhythm, coaxing my edges to bite deeper into the ice. “Your favorite jump.”
My heart stammers, a familiar knot tightening in the pit of my stomach.
“I don’t do that anymore, Zed.” My smile falters and I shake my head again, my eyes dropping to his chest. “I just teach basic skating now. You know that.”
“Come on, snowflake,” he coaxes. He pushes us faster, pulling me into the momentum, luring my body into trusting the speed. “Just a little trick. What’s the entry-level jump? An axel?”
My disbelieving laugh echoes around us.
“An axel? An axel requires a forward take-off, three hundred and sixty degrees of air rotation, and a blind backward landing on a single outside edge. It’s not a ‘little trick’.” I tilt my head with a playful smile to mask the sudden flutter of anxiety. “How about you do an axel for me, big guy?”
“Teach me how.” Zed slows us in the middle of the center circle. “And I will.”
I laugh, but the humor dies in my throat the second I see the seriousness on his face.
“Show me how it’s done and I’ll make a complete fucking fool of myself in front of you. Deal?”
My heart stammers against my ribs. I shake my head, letting out a forced, airy laugh as I brush my hair back, desperately trying to play it off. I haven’t even noticed we’ve come to a stop.
“You’ll break something. The team needs you intact.” I start to push off, intending to glide toward the exit, but Zed moves with terrifying speed.
His hand shoots out, his fingers locking around my wrist, instantly killing my momentum. He yanks me back into his chest, his other arm snapping around my waist as he begins to glide us across the ice again.
“Zed—”
“I’ve never broken a bone in my life,” he murmurs, his long, heavy strides beginning to guide us into a wide, sweeping backward circle.
He shifts his right hand, placing his palm against the center of my upper back, pushing my torso up, while his left hand grips my fingers, lacing them tightly through his.
My breath hitches. The exact placement of his hands. The specific angle of his blade as he sets the trajectory into the turn.
If I didn’t know why he’s doing this, it’s crystal clear now. He’s setting up the entry for a throw. A modified, grounded double, the exact entry structure of the Throw Triple Axel.
He’s watched my videos and is trying to make me recreate the—
“No,” I whisper as horror slams into my chest. I jerk my hands, twisting my body to break his hold.
He absorbs my resistance, his hands staying firmly locked on my hips, guiding us into the smooth, sweeping curve backward.
“I won’t toss you. Just a small lift,” he promises.
Zed drops low into his stance just as I open my mouth to say no. My hands instinctively fly to his biceps for support as he lifts me by my waist. He holds me for a few seconds as we glide before setting me gently back down onto the surface.
My muscle memory takes over before my mind can begin panicking. My right edge bites into the frozen ice, my back arches naturally, and I land cleanly, sliding out on a single blade.
Zed slows our pace, his skates carving a gentle arc as he keeps his hands hovering right at my waist, ready to catch me if I falter.
My pulse is thrumming so hard it feels like it’s going to burst a vein. The phantom ache in my thigh is there, but the panic is fading. His hands stay locked around my waist, firm and sure. Much bigger and stronger than my last skating partner, who dropped me and ended everything.
I look up at Zed, who’s looking back at me with so much pride and reassurance that it makes me… want this. I want to take this piece of myself back. I just don’t know how.
“Again?” he asks softly.
“Again,” I whisper before I can chicken out.
He picks up the pace instantly, and so does my heart.
His long, powerful strides build speed across the empty rink and guide me through the entry curve again.
His grip is firm, holding me tight against his body before lifting me smoothly into the air once more.
He glides with me held a few feet off the ice, letting me feel the cold wind on my face, letting me feel weightless without the fear of falling, before gently placing me back down.
“There you go,” he says as I land another clean edge.
My heart is beating so fast I can barely catch my breath.
“You’re doing so well,” he murmurs, leaning down to place a soft kiss on my lips. “You’re so brave, Lilly,” he says into my mouth before pulling back. “Ready for a small toss?”
My heart skips a beat. I look up at him mid-inhale, my eyes widening.
“Zed, no.” I shake my head.
“Yes.” He nods. “No spinning. Just a toss.”
“Zed, I’ll run,” I warn.
“Run?” He lets out a low, amused chuckle. “You think you can outrun me?”
“Well,” I drawl, “isn’t it a goalie’s job to just stand still in front of a net all night?”
“You think I don’t know how to move off my crease, baby?” Zed’s voice drops.
“Do you?” I challenge, happy that my distraction seems to be working.
“I’ll even give you a head start,” he murmurs. “If you manage to make it off the ice before I grab you, we go home and I fuck you.”
My core instantly flutters at his bluntness and the dark promise of it. “And… if you catch me?”
“If I catch you,” he purrs, leaning down, “you do a jump for me. Then I take you home and we fuck.”