"I think so. He was going to tell my brother, but I asked him not to. Not yet. I just want to enjoy our little bubble first."
"I hope you are getting the best sex ever. I mean, I know you have nothing to compare it to since you've essentially been saving yourself for Thorne since forever. But I can tell that he's fucking bomb in bed." Her eyes gleam with excitement. "Does he have anyweird kinks? Oh god, does he like to be called Daddy or something?"
"What? Ew!" My face turns the approximate shade of a plum tomato. "He does tell me I'm his good girl a lot, though."
"Mollie!" She fans herself, pretending to faint. "I imagine he's pretty bossy in the bedroom, too."
My lips tip up. "He's definitely dominant. That's the right word. I think."
"Fuck! I never thought I'd hear you calling a hockey player hot and dominant. Guess your rule didn't keep Alex Thorne from breaking down your door and taking what he wants."
"No." I bite down on a secret smile. "It really didn't."
"So, when are you going to tell Beck?"
"No idea. I think we'll have to tell him sooner rather than later, though. Alex doesn't really like lying to him. I can tell."
"Understandable. Well, your secret is safe with me." She links arms with me. "Think you can still skate backward?"
"I haven't tried. But you've already seen me bust my ass a thousand times, so... might as well test it out now."
Giggling, we both reverse course, skating backward. My ankle throbs a little as unused muscles protest, but it holds. Which is all I can ask for. "Still works like a charm," I joke. I'm not moving particularly fast, but no one is keeping track.
"Oh shit." Indie tugs at my arm. "We're not alone."
"Why would we be? The ice is open for all uses right now." I turn to look across the rink and freeze.
Coach Savard is skating out onto the ice, leading a group of three young girls. He's facing away from us, but he looks the same: dark track pants, a zip-up athletic jacket, his arms folded across his chest. His wavy golden hair is clipped short. He raises a hand. "Dani, arch your back more."
His French-Canadian accent sends an icy blast through my veins. My mouth goes dry.
"Fuck." I whirl away from him, pulse pounding. "I know that his world didn't stop turning just because I dropped out of the Nationals, but fuck. What is he doing here?"
"I don't know." Indie grabs my wrist. My pulse is racing, but I feel slightly more grounded at her touch. "You want to go?"
"No! He won't drive me off the ice. This arena belongs to me more than him."
A vindictive smile lights her face. "Attagirl. You're right, we should just go about our business." She links arms with me, taking off at an easy pace. "You should make him uncomfortable, not the other way around. He dumped you like a bag of trash so the fact that you're still doing well should haunt his French ass."
"French-Canadian," I emphasize. "Hewisheshe was French."
We do an easy loop around our half of the rink, sticking to our side. Savard hasn't recognized me yet, or perhaps has chosen not to let on. That's fine by me.
"So what actually happened before you broke your ankle? You two got into an argument?” Indie asks. “It must’ve been bad. I remember that Savard didn’t even show up at the hospital when you had surgery.”
I rip my eyes from Savard’s back, my mouth tightening. Should I tell my best friend the extent of our argument? What it was really about?
She's a feisty soul. She could freak out and confront my former coach if she knows the full truth. And he made it perfectly clear that if I talk about the event, he’ll sue me.
But hiding it from her seems like carrying water for the man that hurt me. I don't want to bear the weight. That's his responsibility.
“Don’t freak out.” I blow out a long stream of breath. "I haven't really told anyone the whole story." I wait a beat, but Indie's brow only furrows. She's a good listener.
"Half an hour before my competition, Coach Savard... He tried to kiss me. He... uh... put his hand on my breast. And told me that he'd been waiting for me to want him like a woman wants a man." I flinch at the memory. The smell of his breath, how powerless I felt. "I didn’t want it at all. So I just said I didn't know what he was talking about. He um… laughed? Then he kissed me. And he groped me."
"What the fuck?" Indie looks horrified. "What did you do?"
Shame creeps up. "Nothing. I froze. I didn't know how to react so I just... let it happen. It felt really icky."
