Page 13 of Desperate Pucker (Denver Bashers #6)

Ryker

“You’re not accelerating as quickly as you need to be,” Maddy says sternly as she watches me skate across the ice.

I pump my legs faster to speed up.

She frowns and shakes her head. “You’re using your edges on your glide leg. Quit doing that. It creates a drag and slows you down.”

“It’s kinda hard to get used to,” I mutter.

“I don’t care how hard it is. You need to do it.”

I correct my technique and try again. Her disappointed frown doesn’t budge.

“Use your edges on your push leg, Ryker.”

“I am.”

“No, you’re not,” she says, impatience dripping from her tone. “You’re still using your edges on your glide leg. And your glide leg needs to be straighter.”

I wipe the sweat from my brow and try again.

“Keep your glide leg straight,” she hollers.

My muscles ache as I straighten out my leg. I mutter a curse under my breath.

This is my second skating lesson with Maddy, and she’s been riding me from the second I stepped on the ice. She’s been in a hell of a mood today. Not even a hello when I skated up to her. Just dived right into drills, which have been kicking my ass for the last forty-five minutes

Not that I was expecting her to greet me with a smile and a high-five or anything like that.

But the last time I saw her was at Spanky’s a couple of weeks ago when we stood at the bar and had our first conversation that wasn’t an argument.

It was actually pleasant. Even though we talked about her shitty ex, I saw a different side of her.

A softer, more vulnerable side. I even got her to like Coke.

It felt like things between us were different. Better.

But judging by how relentless she’s been with me today, that was a one-off. Maddy isn’t interested in being soft right now, just a hardass.

“Ryker, your form is sloppy.”

I ignore her and keep skating.

“Keep that leg straight.”

I roll my eyes.

“Keep your glide leg straight!”

I finally do what she tells me. When I finish the drill and turn around, she’s glaring at me.

“Wanna tell me why you rolled your eyes at me?” she asks.

“I don’t remember doing that,” I lie.

She tilts her head at me. “I saw you do it a minute ago.”

“I have crappy short-term memory.”

For a long moment, she just looks at me. “Are you kidding?”

I stare at her, still confused as to why she’s so mad at me.

“Why are you like this?” I finally say.

She leans back, like she’s offended. “Like what?”

“Why are you so pissed off?”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m not.”

“Yeah, you are. You were pissed from the second I walked in here. I just wish I knew what I did.”

Her cheeks are pink. She swallows, then blinks. “I’m not pissed off at you.”

“Yes, you are. You’re on my ass like back pockets.”

Her brow furrows in confusion. “Like what?”

“You’ve never heard that before?”

She shakes her head.

I exhale sharply. “Never mind,” I mutter as I skate over, grab my water bottle from the edge of the rink, and take a long drink.

When I turn back around to her, she’s standing there staring at me.

I shrug at her. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Are you gonna tell me what’s upsetting you so we can get it out of the way? I don’t wanna train with you if you’re just gonna take your bad mood out on me.”

She glares at me. “No. I don’t want to tell you.”

“Fine.” I grab my water bottle. “Figure your shit out, Maddy, before our next lesson together.”

I head off the ice toward the locker rooms to get cleaned up.

“Sweetie! You made it!”

I sit down next to my mom at my little brother Nick’s hockey game. I give her a quick hug.

“Sorry I’m late,” I say.

“It’s alright.” She smiles up at me and squeezes my arm.

“How’s Nick playing?”

“Really well. He got an assist right before you got here.”

I watch him take off with the puck. He plays center and is one of the top guys on his team.

He weaves around a defenseman from the opposing team and takes a shot at their goalie, but the goalie catches it in his glove. The crowd lets out a collective disappointed sound.

I glance around the crowded stands. Hockey is huge at Hollis University, so the home games are always crowded.

“Where’s Dad?” I ask.

She chuckles. “In his usual spot—front row, taking a million photos and videos of your brother.”

I look over to where he’s sitting. He’s holding up his phone, tracking Nick as he flies across the ice. He glances back, smiling when he sees me. I wave.

“You didn’t want to sit in front with him this time?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “It gets rowdy and loud down there sometimes. I like it up here, a few rows back.” She pats my leg. “How are you feeling? Recovering okay?”

Her tone is light, but I can spot the concern in her gold-brown eyes.

“I’m doing well.”

“Physical therapy is good? You’re resting enough, too?”

“Yes, Mom.”

She sighs like she’s relieved, then goes back to watching the game. “You’re probably itching to get back on the ice.”

“Always.”

“How much longer until you can play again?”

“At least a few more weeks. Maybe a month. I should be able to rejoin practices before too long, though.”

Her eyes are bright as she smiles. “That’s great, sweetie.”

“Anna isn’t coming tonight?”

Mom shakes her head. “She has a test tomorrow, so she’s busy studying.”

“She’s a little genius. She doesn’t need to study as much as she does.”

Mom chuckles. “You know your sister. She likes to overprepare.”

“Unlike Nick.” I nod at him scuffling with another player on the ice for control of the puck.

She gently shoves my arm. “Oh, you stop it. All my kids have their own talents. I’m so proud of all of you.”

I let a small smile break free. She’s the most supportive mom in the world. No matter what our interests were growing up, she supported them one hundred percent. So did our dad.

“I’m glad you and Dad aren’t the typical hyper-competitive hockey parents,” I say. “I really appreciate that you two never yelled at my coaches growing up or threatened to punch out the officials.”

Mom laughs and shakes her head. “Oh gosh, your father and I would never.” She clears her throat after a minute. “So. Your sister told your dad and me about how you came to her rescue the other night.”

She raises an eyebrow, the look on her face knowing.

I shake my head. “She’s too innocent. She can’t hide the truth to save her life.”

“My Anna Banana has a pure soul, that’s for sure.”

“You’re not going to punish her for drinking when she’s underage, are you? I know you don’t approve, but she did the right thing, Mom. She didn’t try to drive home. She didn’t get a ride with a stranger. She called me.”

She pats my good knee. “Of course I’m not going to punish her. You’re right, she shouldn’t have done it, but I know she learned her lesson. I know she won’t do it again. She’s got a good head on her shoulders.”

“She does.” I nod at Nick. “But that knucklehead.”

She shoves me again.

“Mom, come on. Out of the three of us, Nick’s the biggest troublemaker.

Remember when you and Dad caught him smoking cigarettes in the basement, and he lied and said it was a fog machine?

And when he used to sneak in past curfew and change the time on the clocks in the living room and kitchen, but forgot that you could tell the time on your cell phones? ”

She lets out a tired chuckle. “Nick’s not as bright as your sister. But he’s a good egg.”

I think about how he punched out a bully picking on Anna in middle school, how he always gets our mom flowers once a month, how he washes our dad’s work truck every time he comes home. As much as my dumbass little brother annoys me, he’s a good person at the core.

The first period ends, and Dad joins us. He shows me the clips he filmed of Nick earlier. It feels good spending this time with my family, especially after the tense morning skating lesson I had with Maddy that ended in us arguing.

“How are your knee and ankle?” Dad asks after he puts his phone back in his pocket.

“A little sore still, but I can tell they’re getting better.”

“How are those lessons with that figure skater going?” he asks.

I grit my teeth. “Fine.”

He and Mom both chuckle.

“She’s kicking your butt, huh?” Dad jokes.

He and Mom laugh again when I don’t say anything.

“Figure skaters are tough,” Mom says. “They have to look all dainty and delicate on the ice, but they’re such powerful skaters. Their stamina and footwork are impressive.”

I look at her, surprised.

“I’ve been reading about figure skaters who work with hockey players to improve their skating. It’s quite something.”

“She’s tough, that’s for sure.” I clear my throat. “We don’t really get along.”

Another chuckle from both of them.

“Is it because she’s as stubborn and hard-headed as you?” Dad teases.

I feel the mildest wave of irritation. I wasn’t expecting my parents to call me out me tonight.

I look at them. “Very funny.”

Mom chuckles. “Looks like you met your match, sweetie.”

“I really did,” I mutter.