Page 6

Tenzin

A feeling of calmness came over me when I arrived at the training center Monday morning. There was nothing quite like being on the ice to soothe a ragged soul.

The small rink was occupied. A machine rapidly fired pucks, and a goalie in full–and ratty–gear went after them with a vengeance. Cooter called that setting “ death wish.” The small goalie thwacked the pucks away with their stick and caught them with their catching glove over and over again.

It was mesmerizing to watch her–I was almost certain the goalie was female. There was some excellent technique there, too. She struggled with her glove-side.

Still, she attacked everything with a ferocity that made me worry. Cooter only set the puck machine to death wish when something was wrong.

The machine buzzed, and the pucks stopped. The little goalie slid into the splits on the ice with a sigh, leaning back into a stretch. She took off her catching glove, blocker, and mask. A pale pink ponytail tumbled out.

Oh. It was her . The goalie I’d seen the other day. Olive skin glistened with sweat. Short nails, painted purple with sparkles, reached for a towel, which she mopped her face with. Her nose, which winked with a piercing, was a bit crooked, and long dark lashes rimmed hazel eyes. An angry gash marred her forehead.

Tilting her head back, she took a long drink from her sticker-covered water bottle, which said NYIT Hockey on it. Bruises marred her neck and face, which made my hands fist. My alpha didn’t like the idea of someone hurting her.

Her hazel eyes widened as she noticed me. “Shit. I didn’t see you. Sorry.” She scrambled up off the ice. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Tell me to leave, even if it’s mid-workout. I don’t mind.”

“Are you alright?” I skated over to her.

“Me?” She picked up, then dropped her water bottle, then bent down to get it, and dropped her mask, like she was nervous. Her scent grew sour.

“My friend only uses that setting on the puck machine when something’s wrong.” I skated closer to her. Her scent was minty and dewy, fresh like an herb garden in the morning–not peppermint candy.

“It’s been a shitty few days,” she sighed. Her hockey skates–and she wore hockey skates, not goalie skates–looked like the end was nigh.

“I… I understand. I’ve had a few days like that myself.” Over the weekend, I’d been setting up utilities, transferring accounts, getting a new driver’s license, selling what I wasn’t bringing with me, and all the other things that came with a cross-country move.

Each task was a nail in the coffin of my old life.

“Your boyfriend and you broke up after you spent years supporting his big dumb ass? I don’t want that fucker back, but it still hurts. I… I never saw it coming.” She frowned at me, absently running her fingers along the cut on her forehead, her scent going salty with sadness.

Had he done that? My heart went out to her.

“My girlfriend decided to have my friends’ baby behind my back and was upset that I left, instead of wanting to play happy pack with them.” That was the crux of it. I was the one who ruined everything by overreacting.

Jeez, Tenzie, it’s not like you didn’t want a pack–or that we don’t spend any time with them. Why are you making such a big deal about it? It’s perfect.

“I’m sorry. Need me to help you get your shit back? People helped me, I’m happy to return the favor.” The young woman held up her stick.

She was a foot shorter than me, but the fact that she offered to help me–a stranger–meant everything.

“Thanks. It’s been a little bit now, but I had to do some things this weekend that made everything feel so… final. Not that I want her back either, but…” I raked my hair with my hand. “I thought she was the one. After we broke up, I may have pretended that a target was her face and thrown axes at it.”

Then I may have gotten drunk with Cooter and belted sad country songs in his backyard.

She pressed her lips together, suppressing her smile. “I might have pretended the puck was my ex’s head.”

“Good choice. Feel better?”

“A little.” She gave me a shy smile.

“You struggle with your glove-side. Want me to shoot a few at you?” I offered.

“You don’t have to.” She shook her head. “Also, I don’t know if Tony told you, but you can ask me to leave. They only let me use this rink if I’m not a bother.”

“I’m fine with it.”

I shot some pucks at her and we ran a couple of drills.

While she was a little short for a PHL goalie, she was fast. An alarm chirped.

She sighed. “This has been fun, but I have to go to work.”

“Oh. What do you do?” My head cocked. “Summer job? I remember those days. Mostly I waited tables.”

“I’ve done plenty of that. Today I’m wrangling little goalies.” She laughed as she did a few stretches. “Later, I’m either on skate rental or at the snack bar.”

“You work at the rink.” I nodded, her privileges making sense. “You play for NYIT?”

She nodded. “Goalie.”

I laughed. “I was thinking center. Hi, I’m Tenzin.”

“Gwen. Seriously, I can practice at other times if this is yours. Since I couldn’t sleep I thought I’d work some anger out so I don’t make any kids cry today. It’s not their fault I made shit life choices.” Gwen looked away, her voice bitter.

“Sometimes we don’t know they’re shit choices until they are. It’s like biting into a candy where you think it's one flavor, then realize it’s another.” My voice softened, because I knew how she felt.

I’d wondered for weeks what I did wrong, what I could have done differently. If I should just stop being difficult , make up with everyone, form a pack with them like they wanted, and go on with our lives.

She sucked in a breath. “That’s a good one. I’m just feeling sorry for myself.”

“Something I know well. I’ll see you tomorrow, if you’d like? We don’t have to talk. I… I recently moved here and I don’t have any practice buddies yet,” I offered tentatively, not wanting to come on too strong, but at the same time yearning for some human contact.

It had been a lonely weekend. Something about her called to me.

No. It was just my loneliness talking.

“I… I’d like that.” Her head ducked as she stood. With a wave, she grabbed her things and left the small rink.

And I returned to practicing. Alone.

Every morning, I met with Gwen. We’d shoot some pucks, run a few drills, and do a little footwork. After she left to tend to her baby goalies, I finished on the ice, then went upstairs to do land drills, work out, maybe have some lunch and use their yoga studio. I hadn’t run into any other Knights yet, but I’d met a couple of rowdy skate smashers who made cardio a little more amusing.

Gwen said little when we practiced, but what she didn’t say spoke volumes. Rink gossip filled in the rest. Gwen Di Rossi was a university student who recently broke up with her long-time boyfriend who she’d put through university. She’d been found passed out on the ice, bleeding.

Gwen had led two different hockey teams to their respective collegiate national championships–and was talented enough to be part of the Knights’ goalie development program. Which, according to Cooter, was a big deal. The Sasquatches didn’t have that program.

Some of the upstairs rooms looked out onto the ice, and I’d seen her teaching young goalies land drills, coaching them on the ice, and being silly with them. She seemed like she could use a friend.

Or I could be projecting.

In the afternoons, I worked toward making my apartment a home and moving over from the hotel. Slowly changing out the furniture. Buying what I needed–like an extra-long alpha-sized bed. I explored grocery stores and outdoor markets, as well as made lists of the places I’d like to visit.

Yesterday, I’d spent the afternoon at an art museum, taking my time to savor the paintings. I’d enjoyed exploring the different exhibits without having to worry about anyone being bored. Then I’d gone to a night market and perused the stalls. It had been wonderful.

Until I’d gone home to an empty apartment that lacked all the charm and comfort I was used to. I missed my place. Seeing animals on my lawn. Having hiking trails in my backyard.

Perhaps I needed the bustle of the city to shake things up.

“Tomorrow’s Saturday. Do you have any plans? Maybe since you don’t have camp, we could get coffee or breakfast after our workout?” I asked as Gwen and I finished up what was quickly becoming our morning routine.

“Um, I just broke up with my boyfriend. I’m not ready,” she blurted, her minty scent going salty.

Embarrassment coated me. Of course she’d think that.

“Oh, me too. I don’t even have the nerve to tell her I moved. It’s just…” My brows furrowed as I searched for the right words. “I moved here without knowing many people. While I enjoy doing things on my own, I didn't think it would be this lonely.”

Her look softened. “I… I can see that.”

“This is my awkward attempt at making friends. Usually I get adopted by extroverts.” I laughed. That’s how I’d ended up with Cooter as a friend. My heart twisted. It was also how I’d become friends with the Lewises–the throuple currently forming a pack with my pregnant ex.

She snorted. “Friends are good. I suck at it, too. But I’m trying. Yesterday I went to happy hour with my co-workers instead of working out.”

“You work out after running drills with children all day?” My eyebrows rose. They worked those kids hard–and we put in a good morning workout.

“This is my last year on a university team. I have to bring it if I want a chance at going pro after graduation.” She sighed.

“So, breakfast? Coffee? My treat?” I offered. “We don’t have to work out first. Rest is good. Or we could go to a museum? The park? You’ve lived here for a few years, you probably know all sorts of places.”

Gwen’s head ducked, her minty scent flaring with anxiety. “I… I know who you are. The last thing I want is for you to think I’m using you.”

“Maybe I’m using you ? After all, you must know a bunch of the Knights,” I countered, disliking her anxiousness.

“I don’t know very many well, but I can introduce you to a few. Carlos is the only one in town right now. He’s a winger. Dimitri will be back in a week or two. He plays defense like you.” Her smile grew shy. “Clark’s a center, but he returned home for the summer.”

“I’d love to meet your friends.” I smiled.

“I’d love to get coffee. I don’t remember when I’ve last just sat in a cafe like I have no cares, while sipping a latte and eating an overpriced muffin. But this is a busy weekend. After work I have to go to campus and handle stuff. Then I’m closing the snack bar at the rink. Tomorrow I have more stuff to take care of.”

She made a face. “I’m working at the rink snack bar again in the afternoon, then I’m at the rental counter for blackout skate. Sunday morning I’m playing tennis. I’m also teaching a couple of private goalie lessons. Oh, and Carlos is making me go to his mom’s for dinner.”

“What is blackout skate?” I blinked.

“Public skate, but in the dark with blackout lights, glow sticks, and warehouse music.” She laughed. “It’s fun. You should come. Do you play tennis?”

I shook my head. “Never tried it. Do you play golf or like art museums?”

“My ex played golf, but I never learned.” Her head tilted in thought. “I like history and science museums. But I don’t know much about art. I do like Dumas, mostly his ice skater and dancer paintings.”

“The romantic era of tea-time Britain did have some lovely work,” I told her. They were sweet paintings.

Her alarm beeped and she sighed. “Time to go.”

“Could I give you my number? That way, if you have some time over the weekend, we can have that coffee. Or if you want someone to shoot pucks or lift weights with. We don’t have to talk. Sometimes it’s nice to be alone together.” Inwardly, I cringed at how desperate I sounded.

“Okay.” She handed me her phone, and I put my number in it, as she did a few stretches.

“If I don’t hear from you this weekend, I’ll see you next week?” I gave back her phone. “I… I’m not hitting on you. Promise. We could be lonely hockey players together during a long summer. We could hit some pucks, see some museums, try some food, and wander the city.”

Did she like country music?

She bit her lower lip. “That sounds fun. I’ve lived here for four years and have barely seen anything. See you later.”

Grabbing her stuff, she left, and I returned to my workout, hoping she’d text me.