My fingers tremble as I dig through my bag for my supplies and find my scissors and tape. It’s only half a feeling of relief as I open the blades, aiming the tip at one of the stitches. Most of these guys are already dressed, and only a few have their skates left to put on. I’m racing to get this jersey on before the coach comes in.
With scissors in hand, I glance around the locker room. A couple of guys won’t meet my eyes. I can’t tell if any of them look guilty. Dropping my gaze to my jersey, I angle the scissors into the first stitch, but to my dismay, the stitches are seriously tight—of course they are—and I struggle to snip them. It quickly becomes apparent I need to cut every single stitch. My pulse ticks up as the vibe changes from casual to locked in.
This can’t be happening!
My first day on a new team, and I can’t get my shirt on.
“Let’s go, boys.” Ice forms in my veins. I didn’t even hear Coach Badaszek walk into the room. I’m such a fan of his. The last thing I want to do is come off as a slacker.
I work faster, tugging harder while heat creeps up my neck. I don’t need to turn to know he’s there. Coach’s presence radiates pressure from behind me. “Are you planning on joining us today?” he asks.
I straighten, swallowing. “Yeah, sorry, Coach. It’s a minor wardrobe malfunction.” I don’t want to rat out any of the guys, since they clearly were having fun. I also don’t want to disappoint him. I turn slightly so he can see my scissors tearing at the stitches.
His eyes drop, and his brows rise. “Jerseys don’t sew themselves shut.”
A beat passes. I could put the blame on someone else. It might make it easier for me, but I’ve learned that narcing doesn’t earn respect. I bite my tongue.
Behind us, the last guys file out, and the chatter fades behind the door. Now it’s just me and Coach, and his gaze pins me in place as I finally manage to rip the last stitch. My fingers shake enough to annoy me. I keep my head down as I slip on my jersey and quickly pull it over my body. I grab my skates right as he says, “Lane, talent doesn’t buy patience.”
“Yes, sir.” I don’t even know what that means exactly. I hope it isn’t followed by me being fired. He stares me down with his jaw set forward before he turns on his heel and leaves. The door shuts behind him, and the locker room falls silent.
I jam my feet into my skates as fast as I can. My chest is tight, but not from fear. It’s determination not to let this first impression change anything. I deserve to be here as much as any of the other guys. I won’t give them a reason to doubt it. In fact, I’ll work so hard that they’ll see why I’m here, and I’ll be given the respect I deserve.
Even if I am the last on the ice.
eleven
Lottie
Aloudbleatoutsidethe front door draws my attention, and I scramble to my feet, rushing to apprehend the escapee before Dad discovers he’s out again.
At this point, I don’t even look. Toast’s bleat is loud enough to bust him. Add in the thud of his headbutt on the door and it’s good as confirmed. By the time I whip open the door, Toast is planted squarely in front of me, blinking at me with his irresistible little face.
“Well,” I exclaim with a sweet smile for the little baby, “I see the gate held up nicely.”
He bleats and turns toward the driveway, as if showing me what he’s been up to. A shiny black sedan is parked there, andTy is standing on the bottom step with his jaw clenched and one hand gripping the banister. Gone are his fancy pants from the museum. Tonight it’s basketball shorts and a gray T-shirt. The collar is stretched out, hanging loose around his collarbone and giving me something to stare at, because I officially wasn’t prepared for the pointed look he aims at me. I don’t know if he’s annoyed at Toast or mad about the museum, but he’s the one who left early.
Toast takes one look at him and bleats again, louder this time.
Ty glares at him. “Is he judging me?”
“Yes.” I dredge up a smirk I hope passes for playful, even though my mind is taking me on a winding detour of thoughts that are anything but playful. The silence tightens between us as he shifts from one leg to the other. I crack under the weight of the tension and ramble. “He does that. He’s better than any guard dog. Plus, he might be jealous of you since Crunch likes you, and they have this weird rivalry thing going.”
“Just what I need—to be in some weird goat-jealousy triangle.” Ty chuckles softly, then flicks his gaze over my face like he’s reading my mind. His stare is so intense it feels like little pinpricks pulsing across my skin, and I turn my head to look at the barn. Eventually, he takes a tiny step toward me, as if he’s risking his life to move in front of Toast, and his gaze stays locked on me when he asks, “Hey, are you okay?”
“Uh, yeah.” I keep one eye on Toast, who is miraculously standing still now. “Why? Is there something wrong withyou?”
Shrugging, he takes another step forward, and I tuck a loose tendril of hair behind my ear and process how close he is. His presence sets my mind off on a game of mental hopscotch, because he always gives me such direct eye contact. It’s so gentle, I can’t help but think there’s something else woven in there. Yet aside from that one time in the car when he tried to kiss me, he’s never made a move. It’s all confusing, but boy, is it hot out here.I swipe at my brow at the same time he says, “I’m alive but a little bummed, because we had our first practice. Let’s just say I failed to impress.”
“I’m sorry.” I feel that like a tug behind my ribs. “Do you want to share what happened?”
“Nah, it’s not worth wallowing over.” He glances down the long driveway. “Ham invited me for dinner. Is he around?”
“He’s inside.” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder, motioning toward the open door. “You can go in. I should probably get Toast back in his pen.”
“I can help you.” His gaze meets mine, and the offer softens something inside me. Or maybe softens isn’t quite right. It’s more like an opening … to a trap door I know better than to tiptoe around.
“Ah … I’d like that.” Even with the tension, I’m honest. I’ve always treasured our weird alone time, even if it means he’s ditching Ham on whatever plans they had. Ham can wait. It’s not like he has anything going on.
