“Well…” Elliott trailed off.
I wasn’t sure I liked where this conversation was headed. These guys were my best friends, but why I hadn’t been in a serious relationship was something I didn’t share, and never would, with anyone in my life. Even my brothers.
“Okay, okay, you assholes.” Before they could continue, I turned the conversation to something that I knew, without a doubt, they’d comment on.
“So, who wants to bet that Oliver throws his headset first?”
6
EMMIE
Despite Marcy telling me to not get on the ice all weekend, I could only stay away for a few days. The rink was my home. I felt untethered without it. What Marcy didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.
Which was why I was pulling into the parking lot of the rink on Sunday afternoon. I’d be back here tomorrow for training, so today really was just for me to settle my mind a little.
I wasn’t going to stay long since I promised Erin I’d be back later for us to go to dinner with some friends. I already dreaded going and having to be asked question after question about my career. It was fine the first few times, but when people focused more on my Olympic background, it got annoying.
Slipping out of my 2024 Ford Bronco, I snatched my bag from the backseat, hefting it over my shoulder. The parking lot to the rink was quite busy, so I was about to either fight for space on the ice or the local hockey team was practicing.
The sun was warm as it shined down on me in my sweater and leggings. I wasn’t dressed for outside weather,but once I got inside and the chilliness wrapped around me, I’d be grateful for the attire I picked.
My bag hit my hip as I walked through the doors, instantly feeling the pressure on my shoulders ease. I smiled as a certain aroma hit me in the face.
The rink smelled like memories. Cold air tinged with the sweet bite of ice shavings, rubber mats, wet gear, and the faint whiff of Zamboni exhaust. Even the smell of wet gear was familiar. It reminded me of early mornings, competition nerves, and the comfort of routine.
I’d spent countless hours of my life on ice rinks. Stepping into the cold building was like a hug welcoming me home.
The second I pushed through the second set of doors, noise enveloped me. Kids talked loudly, some yelling and laughing, their voices echoing through the rink.
My eyes briefly scanned the area that was packed with kids in hockey gear as I made my way to the other side of the rink. I waved to a few familiar workers as I passed, the cold in the air nipping at my cheeks.
From the looks of it, hockey practice was wrapping up, so by the time I got stretched and got my skates on, I’d have the ice to myself. My body itched to get out there and feel the ice beneath my skates. Only a few days had passed, but it felt like a lifetime.
Spotting an empty bench, I took a seat and put my bag next to me. Toeing off my slides, I brought my foot up into my lap to stretch my hips as I looked out to the ice again. A few kids skated around, helmets off as they passed a puck around. What drew my attention was the small crowd surrounding a tall man.
The man’s back was to me, and he had a hat on, so I couldn’t tell who he was. More than likely, he was the team's coach by the way he was dressed in a dark gray pullover and track pants. Whatever the guy was saying had the kidssmiling and nodding along. Even from here, I could see the way they looked at him with stars in their eyes.
It was a look I had as a kid when I first started skating and met Marcy. That look of excitement and awe that someone saw something in me. Having a good coach was key to success as an athlete. One that supports, encourages, and believes in you can make a world of difference. Without Marcy, I wouldn’t be the skater I am today.
I guess the same could be said about my father. While I had my own feelings about him being a coach, he was probably the best one in the business. I saw firsthand how the players respected him and vice versa. My dad pushed the team to be the best they could be, but he didn’t need to do it all the time because they rose to the occasion.
Whoever this coach was for these young hockey players, it was clear he was doing a decent job with them. My gaze lingered on the guy for a second, noting the wide shoulders that made his pullover taut.
When he lifted his arms, I swore I could see his muscles ripple. I shifted forward to get a better view, but then I caught myself.Nope. No ogling the back of a random stranger,I scolded myself.
Maybe Erin was right—I needed to get laid. I was basically eye-fucking a random guy, and I didn’t even know what his face looked like.
With a shake of my head, I stood from the bench and finished stretching. At least from here I wouldn’t have a view of the ice.
I blocked out the rest of the noise as I prepared my body before putting my skates on. Today, I was going without the brace that protected my big toe when I did jumps. I slipped on one extra pair of thin socks over the ones I was currently wearing.
Too many socks made the skate tight and caused blisters,something you learned fast. Nothing was worse than blisters on your feet when you needed to effortlessly glide along the ice. You needed to make sure your laces were tight but not so much that there wasn’t any give.
In less than two minutes, they were on, my leggings tugged over the tops and ready to go. I kept my blade guards on until right before I stepped onto the rink. It wasn’t easy or cheap, for that matter, to keep your blades sharp. Walking on the padded mats around the rink dulled them fast.
Straightening up, I found most of the kids seated on benches and taking their gear off as parents trickled through the doors. Even though the rink wasn’t freshly Zambonied, I eagerly made my way to the little gate to the right of my bench.
With a flick of my wrist, I unclipped my blade guards, resting them on the side boards before stepping out. As soon as my skates touched the ice, I sighed. This was home.
