“Uh… Captain?” He looks at me nervously, like he’s about to tell me someone keyed my car.
Everyone turns to Frankie. No one interrupts him. That man handles our gear like priceless art.
“Yeah?” I say.
He swallows. “Uh, your… girlfriend… she’s trying to skate.”
The fuck?
“…What?” I blink at him.
“She’s out there. On the ice.” Frankie winces.
The locker room goes dead silent.
“What the fuck?” Jace mutters.
“Run that back.” I stand, towel sliding from my knee.
Frankie lifts both hands like he’s surrendering. “I swear I’m not messing with you. She’s on the ice. On skates.”
My brain stalls.
Jessica Brooks. On my ice?
I repeat it to myself like I’m trying to translate a foreign language.
“She’s… what?”
“She walked in with a pair of skates and… look, Captain, I’m just telling you what I saw.” Frankie looks like he’d rather chew glass.
“I heard you,” I snap. “I’m asking why. Who gave her skates?”
He shrugs helplessly.
“No fucking way.” Jace bursts out laughing.
I whip him a glare, but he’s right. None of this makes sense.
She’s not supposed to be anywhere near this building. She’s not supposed to be on the ice without clearance. She’s not supposed to—
Fuck.
I’m already grabbing my shirt.
“Captain?” Frankieasks quietly.
“Yeah?” I snap, shoving my arms through the sleeves.
“You, uh, might wanna hurry. She’s not… very good at it.”
I don’t answer. I’m already gone, storming out of the locker room, boots half-laced, shirt clinging to my damp skin.
My pulse is a drumline under my ribs. What the hell is she doing here? Who let her on the ice? And why did she think this was a good idea?
And why the hell is there a curl of heat in my gut at the thought of seeing her again?
Fucking great. Exactly what I need.
