“If coaching for Westchester doesn’t work out, you could definitely make a killing with ice skating.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Definitely. Look at how fast you managed to teach me. Next stop, Olympics!” My enthusiasm sets me off balance a little, and I wave my arms like I’m treading water.
“Mmm…” He presses his lips together, suppressing a smile.
“Aren’t coaches supposed to encourage their players? Don’t laugh.”
“You look like …someone looking for the light switch in the dark. It’s cute.”
“Don’t be rude.” I gently smack his arm. “Maybe we can do pair skating in the Olympics! I’ll dazzle the crowd with my beauty and grace, and you can do all the fancy tricks.”
“Eh, the uniform isn’t my style. I could never pull off sequins.”
“C’mon. Just imagine how great your ass would look in those tights.”
“Thinking about my ass now, are we?”
I open my mouth to respond when I see a kid barreling toward me. He notices me at the last second but rams into my side, and my legs slide out from under me. I stick out my hand to try and stop myself from falling on my face and jam my wrist on the ice. A second before I can process that horrendous pain the back of my head knocks the ice.
Fuck.First fall of the night is not a pretty one. The kid looks at me sheepishly and apologizes before skating back across the rink. I’m lying here like roadkill as his friends skate around me. Mason squeezes past and scoops me up bridal style, skating off the ice. He sets me down on a nearby bench.
“Oh god, Violet. I’m so sorry I didn’t see that kid coming.” His eyes are filled with panic as they scan my face. “Can you tell me the date?”
“What?”
“What is today’s date?” He repeats himself.
“Ice skating.”
“Violet, it’s December 8th. Fuck, you’re concussed.”
“Oh, no I thought you meant what did we do for today’s date. I know it’s the 8th.” I realize I just called this a date. “But this isn’t even a date so?—”
“Can you track this for me?” He asks, moving his finger around. He speaks like he can’t hear my ramblings about this date-not-date. I follow his finger until he appears satisfied. He looks off into the distance, working his jaw. He looks kind of mad.
“What’s wrong, Doc? I can handle it I promise.”
He doesn’t laugh. Not even a smile. Tough crowd. He drags his hands over his face.
“I can’t believe I let you fall.”
“We both knew I was going to fall at some point.”
“Yeah but I didn’t think you’d fall on yourhead.”
“My wrist broke my fall. My head barely touched the ice.”
“What if you have a concuss?—”
“I promise you, I’m fine. Hell, I could probably race you right now if you want to get back on the ice.”
He ignores my attempt at humor. “Maybe we should take you to the ER just to be safe?”
“Mason.” I take his shaking hand into mine. “I don’t feel dizzy or confused. My wrist hurts, but I can move it. I don’t think I need to go to the ER.”
He glances back to the ice and then looks down at his feet. Maybehewas the one who wasn’t ready to face his fears today.
