Page 46

FORTY-SIX

RILEY

Me

I think I’m ready to get back on the ice.

Lexi

Yeah?

Me

Yeah. Can that be our session today?

Lexi

Of course. Should I ask the guys to come?

Me

Not this time. I want to do this by myself. And with you.

Lexi

Meet you at the arena in an hour?

Me

See you there.

* * *

I decided on hockey pants instead of jeans for my second attempt at skating, and I’m hoping if I dress the part, I’ll be able to do the part.

Wishful fucking thinking, probably, after how disastrous last time was.

I’ve gone through the list of meditation exercises Dr. Ledlow gave me at my most recent therapy session, and I’m trying to visualize myself on the ice. I’m remembering what I looked like and how it felt when I was good at skating, but I’m not sure the positive reinforcements are going to stick.

“Hi,” Lexi calls out from the bench, and I smile at the sound of her voice. “Sorry I’m late. With two weeks left in the regular season, everyone needs extra taping and foam rolling.”

“What the hell are you carrying?” I point to the large bag in her arms. “Is there a body in there?”

“Something better.” She sighs in relief when she sits next to me. “I did more research on the AHL player who had his leg amputated after going into cardiac arrest.”

“Oh, yeah.” I remember her mentioning him back at our first meeting with the team after my accident. I haven’t let myself look him up, too worried if I do, I’ll start creating unrealistic expectations for myself. I’ll start comparing myself to him, and I’ve never liked putting myself up against other people. “Is he in the bag?”

“No, but the prosthetic that’s identical to the one he uses is.” Lexi pulls the trash bag off the top of the hidden object and throws it on the floor. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. Once I did, I made some phone calls. I talked to some very smart people who outfit Paralympian speed skaters specifically, and they got to work. It’s a leg that attaches to a streamlined skate blade. You won’t have to lug around your heavy walking prosthetic, and this gives you more range of motion.”

“Holy shit.” I examine the prosthetic and lift it up. “It’s so light.”

“Right? Fair warning: it probably won’t fit perfectly today. I went off your other prosthetic measurements, so we’re probably going to have to do some adjusting, but I figured we’d try.”

Excitement buzzes through me, and Lexi waits for me to strip down to my briefs. I pop off my usual leg and replace it with the lighter, more agile one with a flexible liner. I lean forward and turn my hips side to side, trying to get used to the feel and shape of the new addition.

The socket isn’t as hard and rigid as what I’m used to, and it makes bending the knee easier. The pylon attached to the socket is slightly thinner, and at the bottom, instead of a foot, it’s an attachable Tuuk blade, exactly what I’d find at the bottom of a skating boot.

“What do you think?” she asks after I’ve taken a few minutes to twist and turn.

“I’m not sure. I feel naked. I’m so used to dragging that clunky thing around, and it feels like I’m forgetting something. It also looks funny.”

“I brought you some gym shorts. I know you were going to use your hockey pants, but these are going to allow for more movement.” Lexi pulls a pair of black athletic shorts out of the bag next, and I snort. “Is something funny, Mitchy?”

“What else do you have in there?” I ask, accepting the shorts and slipping on my hoodie.

“Nothing you’re going to get now.” She takes off her skate guards and stands. “Want to take it for a spin?”

I stare out at the ice and take a deep breath. The quiet arena has become a welcome place for me lately. Even though I haven’t laced up my skates and done so much as a lap around the rink since my epic fail of a first attempt, just being out here settles every racing thought in my head.

Today feels less monumental than the first time.

There’s no fanfare. There’s no one around to watch me fail except Lexi, and she’s seen me fail plenty of times. I’ve failed more times than I’ve succeeded, and she’s stuck around.

I stand and hold onto the boards, already knowing I’m in a much better headspace than I was. I’m stronger both mentally and physically, and I nod, ready to give this thing another fucking shot.

“Do you think you can hold my hand?” I ask, and I don’t care how weak it might sound. I can’t do this without her. She’s been there every step of my journey, and if this is the way to get back to doing what I love, I need her by my side. “Please?”

“Gosh, Mitchy. Stop flirting with me.”

Lexi smiles and passes through the gate, holding out both her hands. I put my left skate on the ice first, then my right, exhaling when my legs shake. We stand there for a minute, stationary as I test out the weight and balance of the foreign prosthetic.

“Okay.” I give her a nod, and she wraps an arm around my waist. She holds my left hand in hers and pushes off, starting us down the straightaway. “Holy shit.”

“Does something hurt? The doctor said your residual limb might be uncomfortable in the new liner and socket. I brought some body oil if you need lubrication and?—”

“I feel like I’m fucking flying.” I glance down. I’m steady on both skates, blades pointed straight ahead, and I roll my shoulders back. “This was the missing piece.”

“Yeah?” Lexi says, and her hold around my waist loosens. She grips my hip and lets out a squeal when I’m the one to push off the ice and move us forward. “Okay, speedster. Let’s remember you don’t have any protective equipment on and this is your first time using?—”

She breaks off with a chuckle when I round the first corner, adrenaline pumping in my blood. I can’t explain it, but this new equipment feels natural , like my leg is really there and it’s the one doing the work, not relying on a piece of machinery. I’m balanced, centered. It’s easier to make the turns, and my range of motion stretches wider than last time.

“It’s so light. Nimble. Feels like it can support my weight better, too,” I say.

“Do you want me to let go?” she asks. “I don’t want to let go, but do you want to give it a try by yourself?”

“Okay.” I swallow, throat thick with emotion as she carefully detaches herself from me. “Just one lap.”

I take off, my body leaning into the prosthetic with all of my weight as I increase my speed. I wobble once or twice when my right skate gets stuck under me, but it’s snappy. Easier to pick up and fucking go , and one lap turns into two. By lap number three I’m drenched in sweat, exerting myself in a way I haven’t since last June, and I don’t know if I want to laugh or cry.

On lap number four, I try skating backward. I lose my momentum, my left leg giving out from under me, and I cackle when my ass hits the ice. Lexi races over, touching my head and my shoulder, and I grab her hand so I can kiss the tops of her fingers.

“I’m fine,” I pant. “Got a little showboaty there. I deserved to have my ass handed to me for going too fast too soon.”

“Give me feedback. How’s the weight and the dynamics of it? Does your limb fit in the socket?”

“I notice there’s a touch of extra space. I’m rubbing against the liner when I get going, but when I’m moving more slowly, I can’t tell. Holy fuck.” I put my hands on the ice, not caring my palms are going numb, and stare down at the blade attachment. “This is fucking incredible, Lexi.”

“I was hesitant to reach out to a new prosthetist. What you use in your day-to-day life is perfect, and your gait is exactly what it needs it to be. After I learned about a company that solely designs prosthetic limb attachments for athletes, I figured it was worth a shot. The doctor told me he’s listened to your story, and he’s honored to hopefully be a step in your journey. I told him I’d film you on the ice and send it his way. Maybe I can share it with the social media team too, so they can post it on the Stars’ official accounts.”

I roll my lips together.

This is far from a comeback.

I’m not donning a jersey anytime soon.

I can’t make it more than a lap without getting winded and my upper body is still flailing around in preparation of a wipeout, but it’s step one. A peek into what my post-recovery career as a professional hockey player might look like, and if it inspires other athletes or a kid out there who wants to give up because they look a little different than how they used to, I’ve done something good for the world.

“Okay,” I say slowly, standing. “I’ll let you record me, but I want to do something else first.”

“Anything,” she says automatically, and I gesture to the bench.

“Can you FaceTime my dad? I want him to see me skate. My passcode is 0813, and he should be near the top of my call log.”

Lexi smiles and heads for my bag, riffling through the extra clothes I brought while I do another slow lap, coming to a stop in front of her. She holds up the phone so it faces me, and when the call connects, my dad’s face fills the screen.

“Riley?” He squints and leans away from the camera. “Hey, son.”

“Hi, Dad.” I grin and put my hands on my hips. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“I’m fucking skating.”

“No.” Dad sits up in his recliner and fumbles with the glasses on top of his head. He shoves them up his nose and squints again. “You’re fucking with me.”

I look over the top of the phone and wink at Lexi before I take off again, hugging the curve of the rink like I’ve done millions of times before. I drag my fingers across the ice, a holler and a laugh falling from me as I change directions mid-push, finishing the rest of the lap backward and with my head held high.

“Holy shit,” Dad whistles. “And look at that blade. How does it work?”

“Attaches to the pylon.” I hold onto the boards and lift my right leg so he can get a better look. “It’s only a blade, not a skate, and it’s so lightweight.”

“Wow. Where’d you get that? It’s a genius piece of equipment.”

“Lexi.” I take the phone from her and flip the camera around so we’re both in the shot. “My athletic trainer.”

“Hi, Mr. Mitchell,” she says with a wave, and my dad’s knowing smirk has me six seconds away from ending our call. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“And you. Are you the one who’s been keeping Riley in line?” Dad asks.

“Yes, sir. We’ve been working together since September, and he’s come a long way.” Lexi puts a hand on my shoulder, and I don’t miss the way my dad’s smile grows. “I’m so proud of him.”

“You and me both. Get some footage so I can show your mother. She’s going to be so angry she missed this,” he says.

“I’m going to do a lot of recording, and I’ll make sure Riley sends it your way,” Lexi adds. “Everyone should see this.”

“I’m going to do another lap or two, Dad. I’ll call you later,” I say.

“Sounds good. Nice to meet you, Lexi. And Ri? I’m so proud of you.”

I smile and end the call. Lexi is looking at me, and I join her on the bench.

“I’m so happy for you, Riley,” she says.

“I’m happy too. And, hey. You were moving pretty quick out there when you were helping me along. When did you get so fast?”

“Oh.” Lexi blushes and knocks my knee with hers. “I wanted to be ready to join you if and when you wanted to get back on the ice, so I’ve, um, been skating with Maverick and Hudson a couple times a month. I can go backward—but I’m not great at it—and I know how to come to a complete stop too.”

“You did that for me?”

“All of this is for you.” She gestures at the rink then down to my leg. “I’ll make a hundred calls if it means finding something to get you back to the sport you love. I’ll stay here every day after practice with you if it means helping you feel closer and closer to who you were before. I’ll cheer you on even if you fall on your ass three hundred times in a row, because that smile of yours when you were out there was the greatest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

“I spent weeks wishing I could go back to who I was before the accident,” I start. “My new body didn’t feel right. I wasn’t right, and I was so fucking depressed. But if someone popped out of a time machine right now and offered me the chance to go back to the old Riley, the chance to have my old life back, I wouldn’t take it. I might be down a leg. My spirit might be fucking bloodied and bruised, but look at what I have now: the opportunity to spread awareness about the need for accessible prosthetics for young athletes. The best friends a guy could ask for, who I’m closer with than before. And you. I have you, and that’s the best thing of all.”

“This is not supposed to be a sappy rom-com moment. It’s supposed to be an adrenaline-filled workout session that leaves you in a tired heap on the ice because you’ve pushed yourself so hard. We can cross another thing off your Life List.” Lexi wipes under her eyes then grabs a fistful of my hoodie. I laugh when she brings her mouth to mine, smiling when she kisses me once, then twice. “I’m glad I have you too.”

“You know, Lex,” I murmur, running my wet hand through her hair. She doesn’t seem to mind. “I’m starting to think you might be the one who likes me.”

“You have no idea how much I like you, Mitchy,” she whispers back. “Even I can’t comprehend it.”

“Enough of this sappy shit,” I say, and her exhale is a soft puff of a laugh against my cheeks. “Want to race?”

“You, the NHL superstar, wants to race me, the lowly athletic trainer who still has to reach for the boards to balance from time to time?”

“I’m down a leg, Lex. Pretty sure this is going to be an even playing field.”

“Yeah?” There’s a challenge in her eye when she elbows me gently. When she hops to her skates and stumbles forward, taking off for the goalie crease on the other side of the rink. “Loser is buying dinner.”

I give her a head start before I chase her down and wrap my arms around her middle. She lets out a scream that turns into a cackle when we both fall back onto the ice, out of control and a mess of limbs and blades. After, she records me doing two easy laps at a slow and steady pace and passes along the video to our social media team.

Ten minutes later, the video gets posted on Instagram. A tidal wave of comments and notifications come in, but I don’t give them any attention.

Today is day one. The start of something new, something fucking exciting, and I’m doing it with her by my side.