“Is your family still there?”
She takes a sip of water, then answers. “I’m an only child. My parents are still there. My dad is a biology professor at Illinois Tech and my mother is an artist.”
“Were they the inspiration for your career?”
“I suppose. My mother would sometimes enter her art in various winter festival contests, so I learned from her how to make carvings from ice. I also share a love for gardening and plants with my dad, and one day I got the idea to incorporate live plants with ice. I started experimenting, and it took off from there. What about you? How did you get involved with hockey?”
“I grew up in Western Canada, Edmonton. A huge hockey city. Raised by a single mother who worked three jobs to keep a growing boy fed; the ice rink and local kids hockey leagues were my babysitters. The older I got, the more dedicated to the sport I became. My mom had to work all the time to support my hockey dreams, so that was a vicious cycle. Travel teams, topnotch equipment, the best skates, training. Even with donations and sponsorships, it took all her time and energy to provide for me. I owe a debt to her I can never repay.”
I make a mental note to send my mother some flowers for no other reason than to let her know how much I love and appreciate her.
“It sounds like your mother loves you very much.”
“I know she does. And she never wanted me to lack for anything.” I pause before continuing. “I suppose she was overcompensating. Trying to make up for the fact that my father was never around. He worked on the oil rigs and was gone a lot. At some point, he stopped coming home and stopped sending money. We haven’t seen or heard from him since.”
She puts a hand on my arm and I can see the sympathy in her eyes. “I’m so sorry. That must have been very hard for a young boy.”
I rake a hand through my hair. “Yeah, it was at first. I was about ten the last time I saw him. But it made me even more determined to focus on hockey. I wanted my mother to be proud of me. I was determined to win a college scholarship and make it to the pros so I could afford to take care of her and give back to her for all she’s done for me. I had no choice but to be the best. Ever since college, I’ve been totally focused on winning. Winning equals success and success equals money.”
“Well, it appears you’ve accomplished that. But there has to be something more.”
“Something more?”
“Yes. Something beyond winning. What else do you love about hockey besides winning?”
I’m at a loss. “I uh… um… I mean, it’s all about winning, isn’t it?”
I get lost in my thoughts, realizing she has a point. There should be more to life than hockey, right? No wonder I’m panicking about the lack of direction for my future.
After cleaning up from our meal, we both move to the sofa. Elise pulls a sketchbook out of her backpack. I need a distraction from worrying about what the hell I’m going to do with my life, so I ask her to tell me more about her work. She shows me some of her sketches for future designs. As she explains the drawings, the soothing timbre of her voice lulls me into a comfortable state. I lean my head back on the sofa, my eyes growing heavy.
At some point, my eyes drift open and all is quiet. It takes me a minute to realize where I am. I glance at the clock on the wall and it registers five a.m. It’s quiet now. The storm is over. There’s a warm feeling on my right side, and I realize Elise is curled up against me, sketchbook still in her lap, fast asleep. I cautiously turn my head so I can watch her, careful not to disturb her slumber. The ice princess mask is gone, leaving an angelic face with a sweet smile. The warmth emanating off my arm spreads to my heart, causing the frost around it to thaw just a bit.
I’m sitting in the training room applying a heating pad to my shoulder after a tough win against Atlanta. Team morale is riding high, but my body is screaming at me to take it easy. I’m now having to rely on painkillers to get through games. The younger guys are still in the locker room celebrating and riding the wave of victory. Their youthful enthusiasm reminds me of my early days when the pressures of performing and staying competitive were the last things on my mind.
The door opens and I let out an audible groan. It’s our athletic trainer.Busted.
“Jax, how did I know I would find you here? You’re pushing yourself to the limit and that shoulder is not going to last unless you’re more strategic about your playing time. If you don’t handle it with Coach, I will. The Blades need you to be an asset, not a liability.”
He’s not telling me anything I don’t already know, but it’s still a mood killer to hear him say it. I make my way back into the locker room to shower and change. A few of the players are still hanging out, jawing.
Cole calls out to me. “Hey, Jax. Have you seen the ice sculptures over by the VIP entrance yet? What a waste of time and money. We don’t need any fancy ice decorations. We need some new equipment. That’s what management should be spending money on. Not that fluff.”
Cole’s not exactly wrong about the equipment, but calling Elise’s artwork “fancy ice decorations” bugs the hell out of me. After spending time with her, I have a real appreciation for her talent. When I call him an asshole and defend her work, Cole bursts out laughing, chanting like a school kid, “Frost’s got a thing for the ice lady!”
I flip him the bird on the way to the showers. He might not be wrong about that.
On my way out of the arena, I walk past the VIP entrance to view the work for myself, half hoping to run into Elise. I’m astounded at what I see. I mean, I already know she’s good at what she does, but this installation is a fucking masterpiece. She’s constructed a winter forest with illuminated ice trees containing living moss and ferns. It reminds me of one of the parks back home in Edmonton, full of green space, even in the winter. I take in a deep breath, imagining that I can smell the aromas of pines and wintergreens; it looks that real.
As I head for the exit nearest to my truck, I hear voices around the corner. Curious, I pause and remain out of sight when I realize it’s Elise and Trevor. I detect a slight tension in Elise’s voice as she speaks.
“Respectfully, Mr. Logan, I appreciate your and your wife’s admiration of my work. I’m on an extremely tight schedule to complete what is required by my contract. If you’d like some additional pieces, or work done outside of the arena, you’ll have to speak to my business manager about modifications to the contract, then we can go from there.”
Good for you, Princess. Know your worth. Don’t let anyone push you around.
CHAPTER 6
Elise - Home Ice
