Myla
After going through ten outfits, running down to the pro shop to get my old skates sharpened, and rushing like a maniac to get to the rink on time, I realized how unprepared I was to be a freaking coach.
Yes, I had skated all my life, and yes, I had been about to join the Olympic team before the accident, but that did not make me qualified to teach people how to do what I did—not a fucking snowball’s chance in hell. Most of the time I was a robot just taking orders from my coaches. I had no idea how to motivate, lead, and teach to the caliber that athletes deserved from one of the most important people in their lives.
I sat on the first row of bleachers in the empty rink while I waited for Simon to meet with me. My knees knocked together under my dark blue leggings, partly from the chilly air, mostly from my nerves. I stared down at my feet, housed in the off-white skates I hadn’t put on in far too long. It all felt so foreign and so right all at once. I was completely unnerved, yet in my element. It was a Jekyll and Hyde moment, two sides of me feverishly colliding—the old me trying to take back my life, the new me being scared shitless of it all.
Right as I was about to shoot off a text to Bray about not knowing if I was cut out for this, the metal door to my left swung open and Simon Abramson strode through. He was so graceful and impeccably dressed, practically sashaying as he smiled at me. “You must be Myla. Your brother speaks very highly of your talents, young lady.”
I jumped to my feet and grabbed his outstretched hand, willing myself to not start gushing over the amazingly talented and accomplished skater in front of me. “Hopefully I can live up to all the hype.”
“I’m sure you will. Are you ready to skate for me?”
I nodded. “What would you like to see?”
His grin turned a little playful as he pulled his lips together, tapping them with one finger while he thought for a moment. “Why don’t you show me what you got? Your best, your favorite—just impress me, darling.”
I took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah. Sure.”
It only took me a few seconds to get my skates laced up, slip the rubber guards off, and get out onto the rink. Right as my blade glided on the slick ice, I could feel panic start to build in my stomach. It was the first time I had even attempted to get back out there and there I was about to try to pull off a triple axel for the one and only Simon Abramson.
Fuck my life right now.
I started to slowly warm up and looked over to the smiling man as anticipation started to well up inside me. I felt like I was about to burst, but I needed that energy to pull off the jump. With a deep breath, I counted softly to myself.
One…
Two…
Three…
I was in the air, spinning, feeling freer than I had in over a year. I started to let my foot slide down to connect with the ice and…
Shit.
The cold from the hard ice smacked into my ass and back as my arms and legs went flying around me like I was some goddamned rag doll.
* * *
“I’msure you didn’t blow it.” Brayden and I took our favorite seats on the back couch in Victory Coffee.
“I fell flat on my ass on jump number one. If Simon hires me, it will be a miracle for sure.” The light hint of hazelnut in my coffee was starting to lift my spirits a bit.
“Oh, fuck,” Brayden whispered, staring down the guy that had just walked through the door. He was tall and tattooed, and I knew him from somewhere but couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
“Bray? Who is that?” My brother opened his mouth to answer but the subject of my inquiry started walking over to us with a crooked smirk spreading on his lips.
“Hey, rookie. Fancy seeing you here.”
And then it clicked: Gavin Hayes—the best player and biggest asshat of the Otters.
“How ya doin’, Gavin?” Brayden’s chest puffed out as his glare narrowed.
Gavin shrugged. “Just living the dream.” He glanced over at me, doing a quick onceover. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
Brayden cleared his throat. “Gavin, this is Myla, my little sister.”
I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
