Page 16

The summer I turned eighteen was when the pain in my legs became intolerable.

One day after practice, Kappy, who’d taken a job as a janitor at Centre Ice right after he graduated, burst in the locker room pushing a mop and large garbage can, nodding along to whatever song he was listening to on his ipod.

By some saving grace, he didn’t notice me, so it gave me a minute to clear the tears and snot from my face.

As soon as he turned in my direction, he did a double take before pulling out his headphones.

His mom forced him to get rid of his mullet for graduation, so he sported a short haircut for the first time since I’d known him, making him appear taller, and unfortunately, even more my type. “Sorry, thought everyone left.”

“Should still knock,” I mumbled miserably.

“What’s wrong?” His eyes drifted over my face, making me feel way too seen.

“Nothing. I’ll be out in a second, can you just give me a minute?” I asked, straining to keep my voice even.

“You’re crying.”

“No, I’m not,” I said through gritted teeth.

His eyes locked on my shins. “Your legs?” he whispered .

I didn’t want to be mean to him, I truly didn’t, but the overwhelming anger and frustration swirling inside me finally had a target. “Get out, Dick,” I snarled.

But he didn’t budge. He just continued waiting for me to answer.

I scrubbed a hand down my face, willing myself not to cry. “Can you please just give me a couple minutes?”

His eyes were serious and full of concern as he leaned on the mop. “I’m about to take my break. Wanna go to the concession stand? Get an icee? Watch the Timbits fall like dominoes for a minute? Always peps me up.”

“I don’t want to be pepped up,” I whispered tersely. What I wanted was to crawl into a heap and scream-cry at the unfairness of this stupid pain until I fell asleep.

He cocked an eyebrow at me as he pushed his mop to the side. “Well, that’s too bad. You need it. Let’s go.”

Staring down at my perfectly white tennis shoes, I willed myself to get moving, to pick up my stuff and breeze past him, but I couldn’t.

I was stuck. Just the thought of standing filled me with intense dread.

Each little movement made a shock of pain shoot through my legs.

After pretending not to feel it all day, I was worn out and scared to feel it again.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, I admonished . I should’ve gotten off the ice way earlier than I did, but Patrick and I were reworking a pass of footwork, and I wanted to get it right.

“Piper…” Kappy demanded, waiting on me by the door.

God, why wasn’t he just giving up on me? I just wanted to be left alone. I wanted anything other than having to admit this out loud.

“Just get the fuck out!” I yelled, my voice going pitchy from panic.

But he just leaned against the wall and casually crossed his ankles, looking like he could wait on me all day.

“Hans will be pissed if you don’t get back to work,” I tried.

“Okay.” He shrugged. “Go tell on me, sweetheart,” he challenged. “Because he’ll be more pissed when he finds out you’re crying over an injury that you’re hiding.”

“I am not —”

“Don’t lie.” He ran his tongue over his teeth. “Not to me, Piper. I’m not leaving you alone in here, so c’mon.” He hitched a thumb at the door.

Rolling my lips together, I closed my eyes. My body shook with frustration and pain. “I-I can’t.” The admission barely left my lips.

“What’s that?” He gestured to his ear.

My shoulders fell. “I can’t,” I said more forcefully.

His face went slack.

I sucked in a deep breath to steady myself. It went against everything in me to share this information, but at the same time, I was just so tired. So tired of pretending everything was fine. So tired of feeling this pain.

He dropped on the bench beside me. I could practically feel his gaze boring into me, like he was attempting to read my mind.

“It hurts too bad—” My voice broke. I grit my teeth, willing my chin to stop wobbling. “To walk,” I finished.

When I dared to look over at him, pity was written all over his face, and I hated it.

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, smoothing a hand over my face. “Forget I said anything. You don’t have to, like, feel sorry for me.”

He rubbed his jaw. “I’m not feeling sorry, I’m…” He cut himself off. His eyebrows drew down and he worked his jaw back and forth, almost as if he were… angry . After a second, he cleared his throat. “All right, let’s go.” He smoothed his hands down his thighs. “I’ll give you a lift.”

I just stared at him in shock.

He knelt down in front of me. “Piggyback ride.”

“What? No, it’s fine. Like I said, I’m fine. Just forget I said anything, please,” I pushed.

He glanced over his shoulder and his eyes locked on mine. “I’m not forgetting,” he said firmly. “Now c’mon. You do a whole bunch of crazy lifts with Patrick, I think you can handle a simple piggyback ride.” He grinned, but the smile didn’t make it up to his eyes.

I hesitantly reached out to touch his shoulder just to immediately pull my hand back. This was so dumb, I wasn’t going to—

“I think you’re confused,” he said, cutting into my thoughts. “This isn’t an offer, it’s an order. You’re done overthinking, now it’s time to listen.”

For some reason, his deep, demanding voice sent a zing of attraction skittering through me. I gingerly maneuvered onto his back, hissing once when I moved too quickly, then wrapped an arm around his neck. He carefully looped his strong arms under my thighs and lifted me easily.

“This feel okay?” he asked .

I nodded against him.

“Damn, you know what I just thought about?” He easily pushed through the heavy locker room door.

Feeling secure that he wouldn’t drop me, I let go of his neck and used the back of my hand to brush a secret tear away. “How Hans is gonna get mad at you for taking a break?”

He laughed. “Nah, he loves me.”

I snorted. “Then what?”

“I’m giving you way too much access to my neck. You’re known to go right for the throat.”

An unexpected, shaky laugh flew out of me.

He continued to crack jokes, distracting me from the pain, as he carried me to the concession stand. Instead of waiting in the concession stand line, he dipped in the back entrance. He never once set me down. He just ordered me to grab what we needed.

I held icees in both my hands, red cherry for him, coke for me, and crossed my arms around his neck. He carried the popcorn bag in his mouth, then we made our way up the stands.

He gently slid me onto the bleachers, then sat beside me.

“See the little goalie over there?” He pointed at the tiny tyke in net. “I give him two seconds before he flops to the ground, that’s his M.O. Then his dad will start yelling at him from the bench.”

A couple seconds later, he was proved right on both fronts.

“Wow, you’re way too in tune with Timbit practice,” I said while grabbing some popcorn.

He just grinned. “And those kids”—he pointed to three tiny players in the corner, all throwing fists at each other—“remind me of our crew.” One of the kids lost his balance and then all three ended up in a heap in the corner. The coach had to come separate them and plop them back on their feet.

“I can see the resemblance,” I said with a chuckle.

We watched in silence for a few minutes, but then his eyes darted to my shins. He flexed his jaw, like he was deciding on what to say.

“I’m sorry for being mean,” I said quickly, trying to distract him. “In the locker room, I didn’t mean…I was trying to…”

“I know.” In a shocking motion, he reached out and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear, making me practically hold my breath.

His eyes dipped down to my lips, making anticipation build in my chest, but then he dropped hand and looked out to the ice.

“You have to tell someone. It’s getting too bad, Piper. ”

My heart squeezed painfully. As soon as I told my parents, I’d be off the ice for days, weeks, maybe even months. That meant no Centre Ice. That meant no him .

“Promise me,” he demanded in a quiet voice. “Promise me you’ll tell someone.” His hand went to my thigh, strong and comforting.

Sucking in my top lip to hold it together, I nodded.

“Good.” He dropped his voice to a lower octave when he said, “I never wanna see you trapped in a room like that ever again. There’s always a solution, always a way out.

And when you think there isn’t, call me.

Please. I’ll break windows and kick down doors for you, P.

” His hand squeezed my thigh, and I knew he wasn’t just talking about being physically trapped.

A little line formed between his brows, like he was deep in thought.

“And just so you know, there’s not much I wouldn’t do for you,” he said quietly with his eyes still trained on the ice. “It’s actually kind of scary.”

He didn’t say another word after that, but he pulled me closer so that our sides were touching, and after a few minutes, I leaned my head on his shoulder. We stayed like that until the final buzzer went off.