He’s never been shy about his past as a foster kid but he wears his scars with pride and honor.
Jack’s death hit Rudy harder than anyone on the team. I thought he’d hate me when he found out it was my brother who took Jack from us but he stood by me.
At the funeral, when I fell apart in front of hundreds, he wrapped his arms around me and told me it was okay. He held me up and stayed strong for me when I couldn’t.
Hayes and Oliver slide up next, pulling me from my thoughts.
“You want in?” Hayes asks.
“I shouldn’t.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll go easy on you, Pretty Boy,” Oliver says, flashing a shit-eating grin that makes his hazel eyes—some days more green than brown, other days the opposite—sparkle against his lightly bronzed skin. He runs his fingers through his tousled, medium-length mousy blond hair. It falls naturally over his forehead, giving him that slightly rugged, just-woke-up look the ladies seem to love.
They call me Pretty Boy, but we all know that title really belongs to Oliver—though I’d never admit it out loud. His head would never fit through the doorway, and his upper body already claims most of the space… along with that big ego of his.
“Briar will have my balls in a vice. I’ve cancelled every ice evaluation she’s scheduled for me,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck.
I know my answer tells Hayes I haven’t been back on the ice since the accident. Not that he probably doesn’t already know that. “It’s actually what I came here to talk to her about.”
“So, what I’m hearing is that it’s expected of you to have ice evaluations as part of your recovery?” Hayes responds.
My lips twitch.
“You’re not breaking the rules. And if we have a pissed off doctor on our hands, Rudy can always attempt to sweet talk her,” Oliver says, tugging on his helmet. “She complimented him on his awful karaoke skills at Hendrick’s Bar and now he’s a dog with a bone. I’m telling you, he’s gonna give her a class ring and ask her to go steady with him any day now.” Oliver chuckles, and I do too, because yeah, it’s classic Rudy, but he’s harmless.
I flick my gaze to Coach Avery. He has his phone in his hand.
“Briar says you’re cleared for light skating. Nothing riskier until she gets here. I’ll observe until she does. You stop if it gets to be too much,” Coach Avery says, pocketing his phone.
I let out a breath.
Am I really doing this?
I look out onto the ice as a few players begin to stretch and prepare. This time, Erin isn’t in danger. So, if I do this, it would be for me, and only me.
“So, what do you say?” Hayes asks.
I take a deep breath and dip my chin.
“Yeah, put me in, Cap.”
The moment the words leave my mouth, I know there’s no going back.
This is it.
I lower myself onto the bench and pull on my skates. The tightness gripping me fades as I lace them up, my fingers moving on autopilot. Each tug is a new promise to myself, a promise to not run anymore.
When I finally stand, the weight of the skates keep me rooted. The moment my blades touch the ice, a rush of memories comes back—laughter, wins, losses, and pranks.
My skates cut new lines every time I push off with one foot and then the other, and the noise in my head feels less intrusive.
Like I can control it.
A lightness I haven’t known in a long time sweeps over me.
A fresh start.
It feels like I’m home.
