Page 62 of Like a Power Play (Greenrock University: Icebound #1)
Thirty One
Darcy
I t’s a universal truth that winter break ends too quickly. l swear the space-time continuum has a grudge against respite.
Unless, that is, you have something worth returning to.
The rest of the break has been agonizingly slow. A doctor’s appointment. A blood draw. An ultrasound. A New Year’s party that was wrapped up by 10pm. Every hour that ticks by, I can't help but miss GU. Professor Palit. The rink. A certain captain who lives in that rink.
Peyton and I have stayed in touch, though I’ll admit I muted her a couple times.
Once for sending me endless live updates about a PWHL game while I was reading.
Again when she got drunk with her brother's friends, and sent me seven consecutive videos of her doing Bee Gees karaoke.
And the next morning when she was updating me on the color of her vomit, though I ended up unmuting her later that day to update her on my progress of the book she gave me.
ME
Did you intend to gift me smut?
ICARUS
Welcome back.
That was, in fact, the goal.
ME
Have you read it? It's pretty good.
ICARUS
No. I just asked one of the booksellers to guide me to the horniest sapphic options with happily ever afters.
But if you still want to "teach me to read" I'll happily start with that one.
ME
Why?
ICARUS
Inspiration.
Then the next day, in the group chat:
FINAL CHAT FR THIS TIME
ICARUS
LNHL Countdown: 8 1/2 weeks
Z
anyone know who we're playing against in the first round?
ME
The schedule won't be released until February.
YERSIE
Better be Glacier. I want their asses out in the first round.
ICARUS
Trouble at home?
YERSIE
If I told you Clay Matthews was even more of a dick than we originally thought, would you believe me?
CAY
Yes.
HAMMIE
Yes.
brADY:
Yes.
ME
I could see it.
Then, just now:
ICARUS
Morning Kimmy!
ME
Morning.
ICARUS
Whatcha doin' this morning?
ME
Many, many things.
ICARUS
Really?
I'm kind of proud but I also have FOMO.
ME
No, not really. I have no plans.
Ever.
ICARUS
Do you want to?
I read the text a second time, then a third.
My heart flutters, and I consider, for a moment, admitting that I do.
That I want to get out of the house. That our early mornings twice a week are something I now look forward to.
That ever since she pulled me back up onto the ice, since she's been applying all of my coaching advice, I’ve been getting this feeling in my chest, right where that hole used to be. Something warm. Fulfilling.
I think I see pieces of myself in her that I thought I’d lost. And when we’re together, it feels like she shares them with me. Like for a moment, we’re whole.
ME
Why do you ask?
ICARUS
Any chance you're craving ice time?
When my eyes flit across the text, my stomach sinks.
I haven't gotten my test results back from Dr. Oswell yet, but the break hasn't been as kind to my body as I'd hoped.
I thought, by now, that I'd feel better.
Not cured by any means, but at least figured the persistent burn underneath my kneecaps would have soothed some, or that the rash forming on my left ankle would cease.
Instead, both of my patellas throb with each step, and the erythema has spread faster than misogyny in the PWHL Instagram comment section.
I haven’t told Peyton about it yet. And I haven’t breathed a word of our sunrise skates to my mother either.
I like the separation between my worlds.
Peyton knows about the diagnosis, but not the current degree of it like my mother.
And my mother knows that Peyton and I have stayed relatively in touch, though not the extent of how it makes me feel.
I like that. I like that Peyton sees me as strong enough to glide across the ice with her, in spite of my RA. I like that she thinks I'm good at coaching. I like lingering in this limbo.
But my mom was right. If I keep ignoring this, if I keep pushing myself like I did before, I can and will get worse.
ME
Aren't you in Greenrock?
ICARUS
Got back last night. Figured I'd have an extra day before classes start.
ME
Good call.
I click off the screen and drop my phone onto the nightstand, giving myself space to think.
Which was pointless, really, because it only takes me two seconds to realize that if I declined entirely, I'd just lay here staring at the ceiling, wishing I hadn't.
Still, I'm not ready to tell Peyton that I'm getting worse.
I still haven't fully accepted it myself.
I grab my phone and click on her thread again.
ME
I can't go on the ice…
ICARUS
Oh.
ME
I'm sorry.
ICARUS
Do you want to talk about it?
ME
Not yet.
ICARUS
That's okay.
Do you want to keep me company in the stands? I can bring my stadium cushion.
A smile—equal parts sad and mused—breaks across my face.
ME
I'll be there in 40.
I feel like I'm home. I've been "home" for the past week, but here at the rink with Peyton?
It's become my sanctuary.
Even just sitting on this slab of green foam, watching her whirl around the cones, and sink shots into the net, feels comforting. I never thought watching would be enough. It still isn't. But for now, it satiates me.
“You know,” she pants, dragging the back of her wrist across her cheek to wipe away a bead of sweat. “I'm kind of relieved you can't show me up today. My ego was starting to take a hit.”
Under the sickly pale stadium lights, her salt-slicked porcelain skin glows, beads gathering along her forehead like a crown.It’s hard not to look at her for too long.
Harder not to think about the hotel.
About how she sounded.
How she felt.
Hardest of all is that I want to happen again.
I smile something bittersweet. Not just from Peyton’s words, but from this aching realization:
I missed this. Missed feeling something.
Even if it comes with pain.
“You should’ve seen me in my prime,” I say.
Her damp hair sticks to her gloves as she drags them over her head, smiling. "I would’ve liked that.” A pause. “Hey, whatcha doing later?” she calls, tapping her stick playfully against the ice.
“I have plans,” I say.
Surprisingly, it’s true. And thank god, because if I didn’t, there’d be nothing stopping me from jumping Peyton’s bones all over again. Well, nothing but my swollen joints. I said it in the beginning. She’s magnetic. I just didn’t realize I was made of iron.
Peyton looks just as surprised, her dark brows raising as I shift on the cushion.
“Oh?” she teases. “Miss trust-issues made friends?”
Despite myself, a half-annoyed laugh slips out. “Fuck you,” I say, but the chuckle in my tone drowns out the sting.
Peyton just shrugs, grinning like an idiot. “When and where?”
“No, not—” I rub my eyes with a frustrated groan.
Heat flushes up my neck as I stumble over my words, using every ounce of restraint not to strangle her.
As much as I'd like to, getting involved with Peyton would only hold her back.
She has goals. Plans. Achievable plans. She's headed somewhere, and I'm not.
And this, whatever it is, isn't worth slowing her down.
“You better watch it. You're skating on thin ice, Cap. ”
Her grin only widens, those infuriatingly pretty amber eyes flicking upward in mock thought.
“Really?” she muses, tapping the blade of her skate against the ice. Her head tips. “Feels about right to me.”
God, how can someone be so endearing and so fucking annoying at the same time?
“Don’t forget your cool down stretches,” I order, pushing off the bench.
And I walk away before she can see the smile breaking across my face.