Home Ice (7 page)

Most women probably figured these things out in their teens. She’d been too busy winning medals. Weird how you sometimes didn’t realize how much you were sacrificing until way after the fact. Could a little time away from the rink at sixteen have spared her feeling like a floundering idiot at twenty-four?
Too late now.

When the team came back, they smelled worse. How was that possible? She held her breath, which kind of backfired. It made her heart beat even harder when Dylan walked by, but this time when she smiled at him, he returned it. The usual spark was missing from his teddy bear eyes, but it was something. And just like that, the pressure in her chest went away.

Whatever Nealy had screamed at them during the break, instead of inspiring them to do better, it seemed to make them play even worse. Especially Dylan. It was hard to watch. With every mistake, the misery etched deeper on his face. He didn’t just look grim. He looked … devastated. The Sinners managed to tie it up while he was on the bench, but before the second period’s end, the Kings were ahead again.

This time when the team filed past, she didn’t even try to meet his gaze, so she wasn’t disappointed when it was locked on the carpet in front of him in his death march to the locker room. So what was with the almost desperate urge to hug him? His misery was so strong, it touched her, too, that’s what. He tried so hard, and it had to be frustrating because he was so
good
. Everyone knew it. With that kind of talent, you didn’t get much slack. You didn’t give yourself any either. Again, more things in her experience vault.

The period break was almost unbearable, and not just because of the nearly naked cheerleaders or Sinbad the mascot shooting T-shirts into the crowd with an eardrum-cracking cannon. Nealy had to be dealing out the criticism pretty thick, and each word would burrow into Dylan’s brain and spread more doubt. That’s how it was any time Val let her have it for underperforming. Instead of pushing Dylan past his block, Nealy would be making it worse.

It was only partly a relief when the team came back out and Dylan was still in one piece. Physically anyway. His face was blank, which was just wrong. Since she’d known him, he’d been so expressive and unguarded.

About halfway through the third period, things imploded. The Kings scored goal after goal, slanting the score five to one. And if that wasn’t bad enough, her own image showed up on the Jumbotron screen, and the announcer boomed, “Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we have Olympic figure skater Lorelai Kelly front row, supporting her Sinners!”

It didn’t make sense to be embarrassed, but tell that to the heat in her cheeks. It wasn’t her time for the spotlight. The focus should be on the team. Then again … he might be trying to take focus
off
the team. She stood and waved to light cheering and applause. Then she grabbed the hem of her hoodie and pulled it straight to show the Sinners logo on the giant screen and underline her encouragement. The cheering rose into a roar.

Dylan sat on the end of the players’ bench, right beside her, separated only by the glass, and he smiled. Not at full wattage but close. A whistle blew on the ice to resume play, and she took her seat, fading into the background. One more weird thing to add to the night. Pretty much her whole life had been spent as the center of attention, eager to be seen and judged. But here? Calling it uncomfortable would be an understatement.

When the game ended with no more goals scored and the teams headed off ice, she tugged at Dylan’s sleeve. “I’m calling mandatory stress break. Meet me at Holsteins in an hour and a half?” That should give him time for a shower and postgame interviews if anyone dared.

Resistance was clear on his face, but when an excuse seemed imminent, she set her hands on her hips and gave him the Frank Sinatra stare.
My way or the highway
.

The smallest hint of a smile flickered at the corners of his mouth, and he nodded before following his team to another round of dressing down. If anyone needed a burger and a shake, he did.

She wasn’t far behind.

Holsteins

It was hard to pinpoint what he was feeling. A cocktail of anxiety, guilt, regret, and the smallest spark of excitement, but that was only because he was about to spend some time with Lori. It was kind of amazing that anything could break through the wall of awful around him, but the idea of her waiting at a table, milkshakes ready, just about did it.

Dylan kept his head down walking through The Cosmopolitan in his jeans and long-sleeved T-shirt. No Sinners emblem. The last thing he wanted tonight was to be recognized.

Even with Holsteins’s bright lights and neon decorations, Lori stood out like a glowing beacon. No one could wear a sweatshirt and yoga pants like this woman. Athletic sneakers, hair in a ponytail, and no makeup, she was a beautiful sight for sore eyes. She waved discreetly from her corner booth, and he slid into the opposite side then hung his head.

Her hand covered his. He felt it before he opened his eyes to pink glitter nails. “So. That sucked.” He dared a glance up at her face and found pity there.

“But
you
don’t.”

“What game were you watching?”

“Okay.” With her free hand, she pulled the elastic from her hair. Blonde waves fell over her shoulders and around her face, which was momentarily distracting as she slid the band around his wrist. It was tight enough to threaten circulation.

“What’s that for?”

“Every time you say something bad about yourself, I’m going to snap you with it.”

“You’re—”

Snap!

“Oww. Hey.” He rubbed the red skin until the sting faded.

“Better think positive thoughts.”

It was impossible to be upset when her green eyes shimmered like fresh ice. This amused her. Plus … it would be kind of hot if he weren’t currently in a black hole of despair. “How am I supposed to do that when …”

Her eyebrows climbed, and she used two fingers to lift the top of the band from his wrist. “How about I talk?”

He looked down at the promise of pain and nodded.

“It wasn’t a good game. I’m not going to argue that. And maybe you made mistakes, but that doesn’t make you a bad player. It was only because you couldn’t get out of your own head.”

What do I say?
Every possibility that came to mind would get him snapped. “I really want to do that. Can you tell me how?”

She pulled her lower lip between her teeth and wrinkled her nose in a way that made him forget everything else. “I’m still working on that.”

“The blind leading the blind.”

“Maybe.” She lowered the band gently until it was flush with his skin, and her fingertips lingered, soft and distracting.

“Somehow I’m feeling better anyway.”

Her cheeks turned pink, and she looked sideways at the milkshake sweating on the table. One shake. Two straws.

He smiled. “We sharing?”

“They’re just so big, and last time neither of us finished, so it seemed … economical.”

A laugh built up, but he held it in. He could afford a hundred milkshakes a day, every day of the year, but the thought of sharing one with her was worth a lot more. “You’re right. Good thinking.” He slid it directly between them and took a sip from the closest straw. Mint chocolate. A little melty, but delicious. Not as good as Lori leaning forward to take the other straw between her lips. They were only a few inches apart, eyes locked, and his heart pounded like he was pulling a double shift on the ice.

A server stepped up to the table and whipped out a pad of paper and a pen. “Welcome to Holsteins, folks. Sorry for the wait. Just the shake, or would you like to order dinner?”

They both sat back. Was that embarrassment on Lori’s face? Had she gotten so absorbed in the moment she hadn’t noticed the guy either?

She pushed a few blonde strands behind her small ear. “Um. I’ll have the California turkey burger.” She must have had time to look before Dylan got there.

He, however, knew the menu by heart. “Steakhouse burger for me.”

“You got it.” The server jotted it down and left them to a charged silence.

He broke it with a smile, and she followed a half-second behind. Every time he’d tried to pinpoint exactly what they were, she’d gotten tense, so he’d given her space. But it was getting harder and harder to pretend there wasn’t
something
between them. Something different. Things with Tricia had been comfortable, easy. She left him anyway. Things with Lori were confusing, exciting, and fulfilling in totally foreign ways.

“You’re looking at me like that again.”

“Is it a positive look?”

“It’s not negative.”

He glanced down at the band on his wrist then back to her. “Then I’m safe, right?”

She laughed and folded her arms on the table. “You are anything but safe.”

Sometimes the girl talked in riddles, but that one wasn’t too hard to figure out. “I think there might be a compliment in there somewhere.”

“There might be.”

Message received. Time to stop pushing. For now. Actions spoke louder than words anyway, right? She’d come to his game, asked him out for dinner, and ordered one milkshake to share. Whether Lori was ready to admit it yet or not, they were dating. Kind of. “I’ll take it. So … I don’t suck. But my game won’t get better until I chill out?”

“Same for me. Ironic, isn’t it? Two people who make their livings on the ice can’t manage to chill out?”

He grinned. “Well said. I don’t know if this outing will improve my next game, but it improved my mood tonight.”

She raised her arms above her head and wiggled her fingers. “Score.”

“You are the cutest thing in the world. Literally. Someone should call Guinness.”

Lori stuck her tongue out at him and lowered her arms to her sides, but the smile she fought told the real story.

“Seriously. Thank you for this. If you hadn’t made me come out, I’d be pounding the heavy bag back home, drowning in self-doubt.”

“
Made
you. That’s flattering.”

“As my confidence coach, that’s your job. Mine is to help you land that axel with my mere presence.”

She scrunched her face at him and pulled the milkshake to her side of the table. But she was still smiling.

Monday, October 13th

It’s a surprise.

No matter how many times she asked where he was taking her, that was the answer. And he was having way too much fun saying it, too. After their burgers Friday night, he’d tried to con her into today’s stress break. At the time, she’d turned him down. Then Saturday’s show happened, with Bradley’s octopus hands and Francesca’s wall of hostility. Suddenly the stress break wasn’t just an excuse to see Dylan again.

Lori settled back in the passenger seat of his SUV and studied him from the corner of her eye. His slightly shaggy brown hair raised the question of whether he rolled out of bed ten minutes ago or spent ten minutes in the bathroom styling it to look un-styled. Either way, he was adorable. Damn him.

She picked up the end of her ponytail and twirled it around her finger. “I’m feeling guilty.” The admission came without prompting or permission. That was a habit around him. Whether or not that was a good thing, it
felt
good. No one else would understand. They’d judge. And she had enough judges in her life.

“About what?” His gaze was on the road, but a good portion of his focus was on her. The concern in his voice and quick glance said she had his attention.

“I got a bye in Regionals this month. That means because I placed high in last season’s Nationals, I don’t have to compete until this season’s. I can skip Sectionals too, if I want. And I can rationalize it by saying I don’t want to risk injury. That might be true, but it also feels like an excuse. Like I’m really skipping them because I’m scared I can’t land that jump.”

Using his left hand to steer, he picked up hers with his right and squeezed. “You told me the first day I met you that you
can
land that jump. It’s what you’re known for. And I saw you land it at least once.”

The warmth from his hand seeped into her and spread through her whole body. Goose bumps. Were they a real emotional response? Her only previous experience with them was on the ice with bare arms. And the sexiest thing about it was his seemingly never-ending patience. A few times, he’d skated around the “What are we?” conversation, and he’d let her slide right out of it without pressure of disappointment. He appeared happy just to spend time with her. No game. It was refreshing. And terrifying.

Before she could form a sentence, he pulled into a parking lot for … Sky Zone. An indoor trampoline park. “
What
?
”
She laughed. “How do you find this stuff?”

He took the keys from the ignition and unbuckled with his trademark humble smile. “Swear I haven’t been to these places with other girls. Just teammates. Something you might not know about hockey players—no matter how old, we are big kids at heart.”

She followed him around the SUV to the front doors of the building, skipping to keep up with his gait, and trying to ignore the pang of envy in her gut. What was it like to have people you trained with actually like you and want to hang outside the rink? People who wanted to have fun with you, not at your expense? It didn’t compute.

At two o’clock on a Monday afternoon, the place was empty. The afterschool crowd hadn’t gotten there yet, and if there were early toddler sessions, those had ended. They had an entire warehouse of trampolines and foam pits to themselves. The part of her that vaguely remembered childhood excitement inwardly squealed and clapped. They sidled up to the front desk and filled out extensive waivers, then got their orange socks with little grippy dots on the bottoms and were ready to jump.

There was a large section gridded off into squares surrounded by orange padding so each jumper could have his own space. She picked one, bent her knees, and gave a test bounce. Addicting. Dylan took the square facing her and tried to match her bounce pattern, but he was heavier and went higher, throwing them off. It was hard getting a handle on the giggles, because he was so
cute
. His floppy hair floated up with every jump, and he couldn’t stop laughing either. Dorky chuckles, and yes, a snort! The world’s best hockey player, Mr. Smooth on the ice, was Mr. Urkel on a trampoline.