“I have a sweatshirt in there too in case you get cold,” he says.
Ugh, he really is the best. Hopping out of the truck once he pulls into his space, I come around and walk next to him. Dad pulls his keys out of his pocket and lets us in, and I step inside, looking around for Gerry.
Dad locks up behind us, quiet as we walk to the rink. The cold is intense inside, but I know I’ll probably warm up as I skate. There’s no one around, and it helps my anxiety as he drops his bag on the bench and sits so we can put on our skates.
Even if it’s lonely, it’s harder for bad things to happen in that solace.
My skates fit perfectly, making me smile widely.
“So you have missed this,” he says, lacing up his skates.
“I’m definitely going to fall, but yes I have,” I admit.
“Nah, you’ve been on skates for too long to forget,” he chuckles, pushing open the door for me to skate out. “Go on.”
I’m a little wobbly as I tentatively skate off, but it’s easier by the time I’m pushing into a turn. I can hear my dad behind me, he’s always had a very distinct skating technique as an ex-hockey player. Just because he spends more time off rather than on the ice, doesn’t mean he doesn’t still have it.
That’s probably why he knew I would too.
“Look at who isn’t on the ground,” he crows, his voice booming and loud as always.
All I can do is smile at him as I skate, enjoying the way my muscles bunch and shift as I glide.
“You were right,” I admit. “There’s nothing like being on the ice.”
“As long as you don’t have to deal with anyone else,” he teases me.
“People are overrated,” I say.
“Okay, so we need to talk,” Dad says, lazily skating beside me.
“We do talk,” I remind him.
“You’re being a shit,” he says. “I know you refused the heat program at school. Want to tell me why?”
“I did. It didn’t feel right,” I say, lifting my shoulder up in a shrug. There’s no one here to eavesdrop, and he’s right. We do have to talk.
Somehow, it’s easier on the ice.
“For now, I’m on heat blockers,” I explain. “Being vulnerable in any capacity isn’t something I can do, Dad.”
“How long are you going to keep that up?” he asks. “I’ve heard that they’re not safe long-term, Cae.”
“Let’s just say I worked through college to pay for my meds, apartment, and food,” I explain. “Tutoring, barista jobs, anything with a flexible schedule. The content creator position was my first real job, and we know how that worked out.”
“Your degree is in communications, and you minored in graphic design, right?” Dad asks.
“Why are you leading the witness?” I ask, effortlessly turning to skate backwards. I guess there is something to muscle memory.
“Very funny. For some reason, I didn’t realize you were completely blocking any hint of your designation until yesterday morning. Hiding from the world doesn’t seem right, Cae.”
“It’s the only thing I can do,” I sigh, twirling around. It feels freeing, and I hate that my love for this has been tainted. I doubt I’ll get many opportunities to have the ice to myself.
I never want to use my relationship to the coach in a way that’ll piss people off either.
“I didn’t think I’d despise being an omega, but I do,” I confess. “Why couldn’t I be a beta? Then I could just live my life like normal.”
A discrete cough pulls my attention, and I slide to a stop. My father steps in front of me without thinking, staring at the woman watching us.
