She allows me to help her to her feet, her expression contorting with anger. "I told you that I didn't want to walk on the ice, didn't I?"
My stomach dips. I grab her phone, hand it to her, then give her my arm to hold on to. "I'm sorry, Mollie. I didn't know that you could fall in a pair of cleats."As soon as the joke leaves my mouth, I wish I could take it back.
She looks at me, bitterness in her watery gaze. “What did I ever do to you?”
“Huh?” I’m caught off-guard.
"I've watched you do this for a year.” There’s no bantering edge to her voice anymore. "Reporters, sponsors, the puck bunnies, the staff, everybody. You’ve developed a whole character for it. Warm, interested, present. And then you look at me and it just like… turns off. Apparently, I'm the one person on earth you can't be bothered with. What exactly did I do to you?"
In truth, I have no answer I can give her. Because what she did to me wasbe beautiful and give me the worst crush on her. That kind of honesty has no place between the two of us.
Instead, I grip her elbow and get us the hell off the ice. Thankfully, it doesn't seem like she's hurt in any way. Her pride might be busted up and her ass may be bruised, but that seems to be the extent of it.
"Come on. Let's get out of here." I make a brief detour to change into sneakers and grab my bag. Mollie is sullen and silent the whole way to the car. "Are you sure you're okay?" I ask her.
"I'm fine.” She produces a lollipop from god knows where, shucks the wrapper, and starts furiously sucking on it.
I drive us home, not speaking. Mostly, I try to pretend that the way that she's treating that sweet cherry sucker isn't making me a little horny.
Okay, a lot horny. I'm in freefall whenever I'm around Mollie. And her bright red tongue making those sucking sounds is melting my brain.
At home, I'm quick to make the excuse that I have to shower. To be fair, I do smell like the worst dirty gym socks ever. Turning on the three heads of my high-pressure shower, I stand under their spray and try to fucking relax. God, I need this cabin getaway. Having other people around to dilute Mollie's presence will be a relief.
This feeling that I might be losing my fucking mind goes all the way back to five years ago, when I first laid eyes on her.
It was during a winter exhibition game, at halftime. The championship figure skaters came in to show off their skills and wow the slightly tipsy crowd. And I, a team vet but not captain, figured I would just stay in the locker room and give them room to do their thing.
Then I happened to follow Beck out to watch a petite redhead in a sparkly lemon-colored costume take the center ice.
She moved so gracefully, with such confidence and pure joy. I've never paid much attention to figure skaters. But this one had my attention. I could feel my heart pounding against my ribcage as I drifted forward, drawn to her.
When I was a kid, my dad gave me a compass. I always loved how it pointed straight north, no matter which way you turned it.
At that moment, I was a compass, and she was my north. It was like I was under a spell, watching her swoop and glide across the ice. Such power, exercised so elegantly.
Beck leaned toward me. "My sister's really something, huh? She just won silver at the National Championships.”
“That’s your sister?” In an instant, my stomach is in freefall.
He gave me a quizzical look. “Yeah, dude. Figure skaters aren’t regularly invited to skate at hockey games.”
He was right, of course. I rubbed my hand over my mouth. “She looks… uh… talented.”
“She is.” His eyes narrowed on my face and he shook his head. “Don’t try to work your charm on her. She’s just a kid.”
I raised my hands and lied right to his face. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
But I have. I’ve dreamt about touching her and kissing her in every imaginable place for five fucking years. I told myself I’ve been managing it, burying it under hookups, hostility, and distance.
But this past year, I finally stopped pretending. Other women weren’t helping, so celibacy was the only option. Every year, my feelings for her deepen, every year Beck trusts me more. And the gap between what I feel and what I’mallowedto feel gets wider.
That’s a pretty long way of saying that I’m completely fucked.
When my water starts running cold, I turn off the shower and dry myself off. You know what I need? A little sauna time. Pulling on a pair of boxer briefs, I walk through the bathroom and pull open the sauna door.
Mollie looks at me, her eyes as large as dinner plates, and she gives the most-ear rending shriek. Then her eyes drop to my junk.
The volume of her scream crescendos.
