Page 33

THIRTY-THREE

LEXI

Me

Hey, Mav

Maverick

What’s up, Lex?

Me

Tomorrow is a big day for Riley. We’re going to try getting back on the ice for the first time since his accident, and I was hoping some of you guys could be there.

I’m not a great skater and shouldn’t be trusted with guiding someone.

And it would mean a lot to him to have your support.

Maverick

Oh, fuck yeah. I’ll rally the troops and we’ll be there.

Me

No cameras. No reporters. No cell phones. I don’t want this to be a media stunt, and I don’t want footage of him getting leaked anywhere.

Maverick

You have my word. What time were you thinking?

Me

Our sessions start around ten. I know you all have morning skate, so I was thinking we could hop on after the Zamboni cleans the ice?

Maverick

I’ll shoot Merv a message. He normally waits to resurface until later in the afternoon, but I bet he’s willing to make an exception.

Me

Who the hell is Merv?

Maverick

The Zamboni driver, obviously.

Me

You know his name?

Maverick

I’m captain of this team, Lex. I’ve made it a point to know the name of every single person in this organization. They know mine. Why shouldn’t I know theirs?

Me

Huh. You’re something else, Miller.

Maverick

Emmy girl likes to say I’m special.

Me

You sure are.

* * *

Me

Hiya.

Riley

Hey, Lex. What’s up?

Me

Something exciting is happening tomorrow!

Riley

Should I know what it is?

Me

Bring your skates to our session. And wear comfortable pants.

Riley

Are you serious?

Me

Dead serious. We’re conquering the ice, Mitchy!

Wanna fuck after?

Riley

Skating and sex? You know how to get a man excited.

Me

I wonder if anyone’s ever fucked while ice skating.

Riley

I don’t trust my one leg to walk on solid ground, let alone have sex with someone while on the ice.

Back at my place sounds safer.

Me

I’m really glad we lied to ourselves when we said we were only going to sleep together once.

Look how much fun we’re having!

Riley

No self-control, whatsoever.

Me

I’ll work on it.

Riley

No, you won’t.

Me

No. I definitely won’t!

* * *

Merv drives the Zamboni off the ice, and I give him a wave.

To my right, Riley sits on the players’ bench and works on his skates. I catch his fingers shaking from here as he ties the laces, and every few seconds he mutters something to himself under his breath.

“Hey,” I call out, and he glances up at me. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I want to throw up.” He grips the board in front of him and slowly stands. “I don’t know what to expect.”

“Having no expectations might be a good thing.” I shuffle over to him and check my own skates. The laces aren’t as tight as I’d like them to be, but I don’t want to waste any time. “No matter what happens, you’re always going to be a better skater than me.”

“The two of us are going to try and make it around the rink?” Riley lifts a wary eyebrow. “I should’ve worn my helmet.”

“Me? Hell no. I’m here for emotional support. There are people better suited for that job,” I say, grinning when all the Stars players skate out of the tunnel. “You’re precious cargo, Mitchy. I need to make sure you’re taken care of.”

Maverick leads the line with Hudson, Liam, and Grant behind him. They all do a lap, crouching low to the ice until they stop in front of us.

“Heard we’re doing some skating lessons today,” Maverick says, and Riley sucks in a sharp breath.

“You all want to be here for this?” he asks.

“There’s nowhere we’d rather be,” Hudson says.

Liam opens the gate on the end of the bench and lifts his chin in Riley’s direction. “C’mon Mitchy,” he says, and my heart almost cracks in two when he holds out his hand.

Riley eyes his offered palm for a beat before his fingers curl around the goalie’s. Moving carefully on his blades for the first time since last June, he steps onto the ice, legs shaking under his weight.

“I’ve got left,” Maverick says, looping an arm around his waist.

“Right,” Hudson adds, his arm resting on top of Maverick’s.

“I’ve always been a fan of behind,” Liam grumbles, and Riley’s laugh is rough as the trio arranges themselves.

“Do I get to be in front?” Grant asks, practically jumping up and down. He takes both of Riley’s hands in his, holding his arms out straight. “This is the best day of my life.”

“Snail speed,” I yell, and all the boys nod solemnly. I’ve never seen them look so serious, so focused, and the second Riley pushes off the ice, I’m close to bursting into tears. “Nothing faster.”

He’s worked so hard for this, and for as much as I know I’ve played a part in his recovery, these guys are his brothers. He’s gone to battle with them, clawed his way out of hell with them, and I want them to have this moment without interrupting. It’s special, a once-in-a-lifetime chasm in his timeline, and I lean over the boards, watching them as I fight back proud tears.

“Look at him go,” Coach says from my left, surprising me. The rest of the team cheers as the group of five makes their way down the first straightaway, and Ethan starts chanting Riley’s name. “Never in a million years did I think he’d get here.”

“I did,” I say. “I knew it all along.”

I smile when the group creeps around the first bend. Maverick and Hudson are doing most of the work, the ones dictating the direction and increasing their momentum while Riley glides along with them, but he carefully lifts his right foot. He wobbles for a half a second before he sets his skate back on the ice and drops his head back as his shoulders shake with either a laugh or an onslaught of tears.

When they make it back to me, they come to a stop. He grips Maverick and Hudson’s sides, flailing slightly when Grant lets go of his hands and drops to his knees to fix his laces. Riley’s gaze meets mine, eyes bloodshot and misty behind his glasses. A tear tracks down his cheek and catches in the hollow his throat. His lips part and the silent thank you he mouths makes me light up. I give him a thumbs-up in return, feeling like I just won the damn lottery.

* * *

An hour later, things aren’t going well.

Riley’s fallen three times.

He stops to adjust his prosthetic, grimacing when he takes his right skate off then slips it back on. Frustration is etched on his face in scrunched eyebrows and a line of wrinkles across his forehead, and after another failed attempt around the rink, he climbs into the penalty box and buries his face in his hands.

“Should we—” Maverick looks at him and scratches his jaw. “I don’t want to be pushy. But I don’t want to be unsupportive.”

“He might need a minute. I’m going to get the other guys out of here,” Hudson says, glancing at me. “Do you want to talk to him, Lex?”

“Me? I’m not a hockey player. I don’t know what to say that would make him feel better.”

“You don’t need to say anything.” Liam gives me a gentle shove, and I hop onto the ice. “Being there is going to be enough.”

I grumble at their insistence and skate to the penalty box. I drop on the bench next to Riley, the lack of space apparent when our knees press together, but I don’t mind. I like the feel of his body against mine.

“Hey,” I say, and his shoulders sag. “What’s going on?”

“I’m fucking awful out there. I can’t even stand up.”

“Yeah, because it’s your first time back on the ice in months.”

“This was a stupid idea.” Riley starts to untie his laces and yanks off his left skate. “I’m tapping out.”

“Riley.” I scoot closer and put a hand on his forearm. He relaxes under my touch, and I drag my thumb up to his elbow then down to his hand. “I’m a shitty skater. I’m not going to pretend to know what it feels like for you to be out there trying something you used to excel at.”

“You can’t be that bad.”

“Oh, I’m atrocious. We’d be like bowling pins if the two of us went out there.” He huffs out a disgruntled laugh, and that encourages me to keep talking. “I’m so proud of you.”

“What is there to be proud of?” His voice cracks, and I can’t help but hug him. I can’t help but squeeze him tight, trying to send all of my encouragement and excitement for him through the embrace. “I tried. It didn’t work out. I’m done.”

“Tell me about the first time you put on a pair of skates.” I bend and unlace his right skate, wiggling it off his foot and smiling at the socks he’s wearing that are covered in tiny printed pizzas. “How old were you?”

“Four? Five? Might’ve been younger than that. My dad is a big hockey guy, and the second I was comfortable walking around the house, he was corralling me onto the ice.” Riley stops and lifts his chin, staring out at the rink. Maverick, Hudson, and Liam are playing an easy game of keep away, passing the puck with the inside of their skates and chasing it down when it goes too far. “I remember holding his hand and gliding across the frozen pond. My mom was a nervous wreck.”

“Was it fun? Scary?”

“I was so terrified. I was afraid I was going to hurt myself if I fell, and the first time I wiped out, my dad picked me up from under my arms. He put me back on two feet. And the world kept moving. Haven’t been scared since.”

“How long did it take you to become a good skater?”

“Years. I was shitty at first. There’s a video of me as a kid at practice and I’m crawling across the ice because I couldn’t balance.” Riley pauses. “Probably looked similar to today.”

“What did you do to improve? To get to where you are now?”

“I practiced every day. I would skate before school. I’d come home and skate until it was dark. I skated until everything hurt and I couldn’t lift my legs, then I skated even harder. One day, it all clicked. I can’t really describe it. I got on the ice, pushed off, and that was that. Haven’t looked back since. Until now.”

“It took time. Effort. Energy. Trying and failing over and over again, right?”

“Right.” He sniffs and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. I hear his choked sob. The agony pulled from his chest when he whispers, “I’d give fucking anything to go back to those days. I didn’t know how good I had it.”

I’d give anything to let him go back to those days too. To patch him up and make the broken boy smile again, because with every heave of his chest, with every muffled cry and the wall he’s trying to keep up, I ache more than I did before.

“None of us ever know how good we have it until it’s too late. And it fucking sucks,” I say gently. “So today wasn’t a good day. Big whoop. Do you know what we do now?”

“What?”

“We forge ahead. We pivot and adjust. We find a new plan, and we try again. And if you don’t want to try again, that’s fine too. When you’re ready, I’m going to be here, okay?”

“Why?” Riley turns and looks at me. “Why are you willing to do this for me? What do you get out of it?”

How do I tell him the time I spend with him is the best part of my day?

I look forward to seeing him walk through the athletic trainer’s office door. I’m at ease when he pulls me close to his chest in bed after sex, his face buried in my hair and his mouth warm on my neck. I smile when his name pops up on my phone, a text message that has me laughing and turning my screen brightness down so that no one can see I’m giggling over something silly and stupid.

Those tiny pockets of time are slowly becoming my favorite moments, and my head is a jumbled mess because of it. My happiness has never been tied to another person. I haven’t given two shits about what the men in my life do, but I’m finding I’m dependent on making him smile. Determined he has a good day every day, and it hurts me to know he’s hurting.

“I get you out of it. I care about you, Riley,” I say. “You’re my friend. And friends show up for each other even when the other wants to push them away.”

“I might never be good at skating again,” he says, dejection lacing the statement.

“You might not be.”

“I don’t know if I want to try again. I hate failing.”

“You don’t have to try again.”

Riley stares out at the rink. He watches Maverick, Hudson, and Liam, snorting when Maverick slides across the ice on his stomach.

“But if and when you do, I’ll be here.” I squeeze his knee. “And I can be very patient, Mitchy.”

His attention moves to my hand, and he traces over the bump of my knuckles with his thumb. “I’m lucky to have a friend like you, Lexi. We’ll try again another day.”

His touch is an inferno. Heat races up my arm and crawls to the base of my spine. I swallow, suddenly dizzy. When he pulls away, it’s like a bucket of ice is getting dumped over me. I’m cold down to my bones, and alarms ring in my head.

Come back , I want to shout, and when he scoops his skates off the ground and tosses a tentative smile my way, I’m hit with the overwhelming realization that I might’ve found myself walking down a path I’ve never been down before.

Friends, I tell myself.

Bullshit , my brain whispers back.