I’d been thinking about getting him on the rink, but am alsoapprehensive. Yes, skating and hockey are—were—everything, but that came at a cost.
After Nina closes the bakery, she picks Kai up at school and meets me at the arena when I’m done with practice.
I think back to my father starting to time my skating drills when I was five, comparing my stats to his at every age, making hockey more important than my childhood. But watching Coach Badaszek with my teammates, seeing how the Knights support each other and their families, makes me wonder if maybe there is a way to fall back in love with this sport.
After all, I’ve fallen in love with Nina.
That is, if love means thinking about her all the time, wanting to dote on her, hear what she has to say, and share our lives. Seek her smile and her laugh. Hold her hand. Kiss her.
I could draft a list a mile long.
The vacuous arena space is quiet and the ice is freshly resurfaced. Kai spots me, and I get a fist bump, which is our public version of a hug.
Looking around at the empty seats, he says, “I thought we were here for a game.”
“Even better.”
“What’s better than a game?” His brow rumbles, perplexed.
I wink. “You’ll see.”
I don’t want Kai to experience even a fragment of the pressure I did. Then again, I kept skating when Desi didn’t and I’d argue that things turned out better for me. Not because I play for the NHL, but because I found “my thing” and didn’t go bouncing from one bad relationship to the next. Lucky for me, I’m here to offer Kai a second chance.
“Ice skating? I’ve never tried it,” he says slowly as if unsure.
Having grown up on a tropical island, I can see that he’d behesitant, but given that his grandfather and I play hockey, I cannot fathom how he’s never been in skates.
Turning to Nina, he asks, “Will you skate too?”
Something flickers across her face, but it quickly passes. “Uh, sure. I mean, of course.”
Knowing we’re all in this together transforms the kid. Kai is practically vibrating with excitement as I lace up his skates—a pair Redd helped me pick up yesterday. They’re probably too expensive for a ten-year-old, but perfect for a kid who’s never had anything that was just his.
Wobbling as he gets to his feet, he asks, “What if I fall?”
“You will fall,” I tell him honestly. “Everyone falls.”
His expression does the same.
Taking his hand in mine, I say. “The important part is getting back up.”
I glance at Nina, wearing jeans and her own skates along with a Knights sweatshirt, with her blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. Standing at the edge of the ice, the pinch between her eyebrows tells me she’s slightly nervous but determined. Like she’s facing down something that scares her but has decided to do it, anyway.
“Are you okay?” I ask her quietly as Kai takes his first tentative steps onto the ice.
She shakes her head. “But Kai wants me to skate with him, and ... I want to try.” She bites her lip, clearly torn between desire and fear after what sounded like a harrowing injury that led to the end of her skating career. I still don’t have many details on the sensitive subject, but I’d love to see her out here. I imagine her gracefully spinning around the rink, a figure skating beauty.
I lengthen my arm and hold out my hand for her to take. It’s an invitation to whatever comes next for us. “If you want …”
She looks at it, then at me, contemplating. She knows that ifshe lets me help her, whatever thin strands of apprehension she clings to that separate us will be cut. It’s almost like the clock ticks down to the end of a game, but then her palm slides into mine and we glide onto the ice.
For the first few minutes, Kai clings to the boards, his ankles shaking like a newborn deer. I stay close, one hand ready to catch him, offering encouragement and basic tips about balance and momentum.
But Nina ... Nina is astounding.
The moment her skates touch the ice, something changes. The hesitation disappears, replaced by muscle memory and years of training. She glides away from the boards with effortless movements, but then I notice something important. She’s not wearing figure skates. Rather, hockey skates. Yet she executes a perfect turn.
“Whoa,” I breathe.
