Page 30

After last night’s events, I am 100 percent certain that whatever is going on between Ellie and me can no longer be ignored.

I just have to figure out how to broach the subject with her in a way that won’t send her running for the hills.

I do my best thinking at the rink, so that’s why I’m currently walking through the employee entrance, planning to skate my worries away.

The rink is my church.

It’s where I go to seek answers, clear my mind, and find peace.

I’m about to turn right down the short hallway that leads to both our locker room and the coaches’ room when I hear the slap of a puck.

The players aren’t scheduled to be at the rink today, we gave them the day off to be with their families and rest because we have a few road games next week.

So I’m not sure who is on the ice right now.

I guess I’ll find out soon enough.

I punch in the security code to get into our room and notice Ellie’s sneakers in her stall.

Mystery solved.

I’m not surprised Ellie is here.

She’s a lot like me in more ways than I ever realized.

She works just as hard, if not harder, as I do.

She’s focused.

She’s determined.

And apparently she uses the ice as her sanctuary as well.

The last time we were alone on the ice, I was mid panic attack and was a complete asshole to her.

Hopefully this time is different.

I quickly tie up my skates and grab my gloves from my stall.

I find my stick near the door in the stick rack and slowly make my way toward the ice.

I’m hoping to stay inconspicuous for a minute so I can take a few moments to drink her in.

Ellie on the ice is a sight I’ve never forgotten.

She glides effortlessly, her strides long and powerful.

Growing up she was the fastest one on her team, which is saying a lot considering boys are biologically supposed to be stronger and faster.

It didn’t matter.

Ellie was tall for a girl, standing at five-ten, and she perfected her stride in a way that was both graceful and strong.

As I stand here just off to the side of the bench staring at her, I can’t help but be mesmerized.

Slowly, I make my way onto the bench and lean forward to rest my elbows on the boards.

I’m enjoying every second of watching her on the ice, but secretly hope she sees me soon because I am itching to be near her.

She takes a slap shot and it soars through the air before going bar down.

Her slap shot has always been impressive.

I watch her as she lifts her arms over her head to catch her breath.

I can see her chest heave up and down and I have this barbaric urge to wrap my arms around her and steal her breath with my own.

Ellie puts her stick down, ready to surge for another puck at center ice, and that’s when she spots me.

Is she as nervous as I am to be together after last night’s close call?

I’m not sure what I’m going to say, but I can’t take the distance between us anymore.

I step onto the ice and slowly make my way over to her, stopping so we’re face to face but with a safe distance between us.

Since I’m trying not to be the asshole I was the last time we were on the ice, I figure a compliment is a nice place to start.

“Nice to see your slap shot is still in prime condition.”

Ellie stands her stick up, resting both hands at the knob so she can rest her chin on top of her gloves.

“I try to keep it in tip top shape since my ass is getting slower and slower these days.”

Her ass is anything but slow out here.

It’s perfect and sculpted and I’d love to sink my teeth into it.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, tilting her head to the side.

“Same thing as you, I suppose. Needed to clear my head.”

Ellie eyes me for a second, and I wonder if she’s thinking about last night too.

A smile breaks across her face and she seems to relax as she puts her stick on the ice with her right hand.

“Yeah, my mind is a scary place to be right now. I figured some time on the ice would be good for me. Do you mind if I stay? I just got here a little bit ago.”

Okay, she’s not running.

That’s a good sign.

An idea quickly forms in my head and I can’t help but give her a smile of my own.

She eyes me suspiciously.

“What’s that look for?”

I slowly start to skate backward as I say, “You can stay, but how about a little game of one-on-one?”

Ellie looks like a kid on Christmas morning.

Her eyes light up and she’s cheesing so hard I can see the dimple on her cheek.

“You’re on,” she says as she skates toward me and center ice.

I shoot all of the pucks but one down into the net and turn to Ellie.

“First to three points wins. Both posts and crossbar. Sound good? ”

“Sounds good. But fair warning, you’re about to get your ass kicked, Scott.” And then Ellie steals the puck off my stick and takes off toward the blue line.

We’re tied at two.

We’ve both hit each post.

Whoever hits the crossbar next is the winner.

Ellie scored last, so I have the puck between the faceoff circles in front of my net.

Ellie has both hands on her stick that’s currently resting across her knees as she tries to catch her breath.

This girl can still fly out here.

I’m doing my best to hide the discomfort in my knee, hoping she doesn’t notice each time I wince when I take a stride.

We’ve been chirping each other every chance we get, which is why I can’t help myself when I yell, “What’s wrong, Coach? Out of breath already?”

She stands up straight, resting her stick on the ice now, and calls back, “Just waiting for you, old man.”

“I’m only like, six months older than you,” I shout back.

Ellie shrugs.

“Yeah, which means you’re still older. Let’s go, Grandpa.”

Chirping with Ellie has quickly become my favorite thing to do.

It’s the reason I have a smile on my face when I grab the puck and take off toward center ice.

Ellie can skate backward almost as fast as she can skate forward, so she matches me stride for stride as we make our way down the ice.

She bites when I fake right toward her forehand and I quickly cross back over to go the other way.

I gain a step on her as she tries to turn around to catch me.

I have about one stride on her, but I can feel her gaining ground.

Damn you, bum knee.

She’s about half a stride back now, so I have no choice but to fire the puck at the net before she catches up and steals it from me.

I take a quick snap shot and the puck sails over the net, just missing the crossbar by an inch, landing in the far corner.

“Fuck!” I yell, as Ellie takes off toward the puck.

She has the nerve to look over her shoulder and shout, “Nice try, Coach!”

My instincts take over and there’s a part of my mind that’s screaming at me, you can’t let her win.

She always wins.

I follow Ellie to the corner and pin her body against the boards just as she’s about to take off down the ice.

We’re both breathing hard and having my body pressed against hers is making me feel some type of way.

I can feel the heat radiating off of her, and when she turns her head sideways, my face is inches from hers.

My lips almost brush against her cheek as I say, “Now what, Coach .”

This game between us is just another version of our foreplay.

The chirping and insults being thrown, sparking the fire between us even more.

I can feel my dick growing hard in my sweats.

I’m pressed up so tight against Ellie’s ass, I’m sure she can feel it too.

She glances down to where my dick has taken flight and smirks up at me.

“Getting a little excited, Coach?”

Her calling me Coach is the nail in my coffin as my cock stands straight up to attention.

I push it a little more into her, and a quiet moan escapes her mouth.

She does her best to hide it, but I hear it.

And I love it.

“Seems like you like it just as much as I do, Coach.”

Ellie turns around to face me, the one-on-one matchup between us forgotten, as she leans in closer.

“Maybe, I do.”

I go to meet her halfway, and that’s when she pushes both arms into my chest as hard as she can and grabs the puck, taking off down the ice.

Is that her laughter I hear floating through the air?

I take off at full speed doing my best to catch her.

She’s within arm’s reach when my stupid fucking instincts have me yanking that damn ponytail, just like we’re back in high school.

Ellie stops on a dime and whips her body around.

The fury in her eyes has my dick shriveling back up into my body.

Fuck, she is pissed .

“What the fuck, Lincoln!” she screams at me while slapping her stick on the ice to emphasize just how angry she truly is.

I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking.

She took off down the ice and I was right back in that ice rink we grew up in, my father’s voice was in my head telling me she’ll always be better than me.

Before I could stop myself, I was yanking her ponytail like I did as a kid just to get under her skin.

I put my hands up in surrender and take a stride back to create some distance between us.

“I’m sorry, Ellie. I don’t know why I did that. I’m an asshole.”

“No kidding. You know how much I hated that shit as a kid, and you do it now? I can’t keep up, Lincoln. One minute we’re getting lost in each other at the bar, almost kissing and the next you’re the same asshole you’ve always been. Getting under my skin and making me question everything. I told you once, pick a damn side. So which is it?”

I have so much I want to say to her, but the words are held hostage by my mouth that won’t open.

The words won’t come out, and I have no fucking idea why.

Say something, you fucking idiot!

Ellie seems to take my silence as her answer and I don’t blame her.

I’m still standing here, not uttering a damn word.

She scoffs.

“Of course, this is all a big fucking game to you.”

I open my mouth to respond but it’s too late.

Ellie turns and rips a slap shot at the net and it connects with the cross bar, the sound like a knife stabbing me straight in the heart.

“Game,” she tosses over her shoulder and then she’s gone.