Page 10 of Date With Skates

His eyes shine with mischief as a slow smile crosses his face. “Those polar bears. You know, the ones on the holiday commercials?”

“You have quite the imagination.”

“It’s a gift. One I refuse to squander.”

“So, you just blurt your ideas out to strangers?”

“You’re not a stranger. You’re Connor McVoy, defenseman for the Colorado Diamonds.”

“Now that sounds almost stalkerish.”

“I don’t need to stalk you—or anyone, for the record.”

I take him in for the first time since he sat down. His pretty face is pale, probably like the rest of him. The only bit of color I can see are a few freckles across his nose and those rosy cheeks. Pouty lips. Dark brown eyes with little gold flecks in them, surrounded by thick lashes. They’re pretty eyes.

“Yeah, I suppose you don’t.”

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out to shut off the timer. I set one so I wouldn’t be out here too late.

“About to turn into a pumpkin?” he asks.

“Something like that.” I pull my hands from my pockets and stretch, my back popping in a few places before I get to my feet. “I have to go.”

“You never told me why you were sleeping on a bench in ten-degree weather,” he says.

I glance back at him over my shoulder. “Guess we’ll have to have another conversation then.”

Another smile graces his face, and I turn to head down the walkway and back to my building. I should have been sleeping an hour ago. Maybe two. But I don’t like sleeping in places that aren’t my own bed. I was moved around too much as a kid, always worried about what would happen to me. Are they good foster parents or bad foster parents? Are the other kids going to beat me or protect me? You never knew what you were walking into, and sometimes it took weeks, even months, to see people’s true colors. That’s difficult enough for adults to deal with. Never mind a child, like I was.

Now, I know Roman is just in the other room, and he would never do a single thing to hurt me. He knows more about my past than anyone else does. But it’s not about that. It’s something deeper, something I may never get over. It’s just difficult to sleep when I’m in unfamiliar places. And something about being in the cold air helps. Calms my nerves or something.

I can’t turn the AC on in the room and freeze Roman, so coming out here was the next best thing. And it seems it worked out. Because now Roman isn’t the only one who has his eye on someone.

Morning skate is good. We run plays with everyone on the team, trying to see what works and what doesn’t. I play the best with Roman, but I know the Coach is trying to see if we will fit in better elsewhere. It’s not only about us playing well together, it’s about all of us on the ice playing well together. We’re a team, and we need to be on the same page while we’re out there, or we aren’t going to win. It’s that simple.

After practice, I shower, we do some media stuff, and then it’s time for dinner. After that, we go back for our game. I eat light, not wanting to make myself sick. I watch as some of the guys scarf down three plates, and I don’t know how they do it. Where the hell does it go and how does it not come back up when they’re sweating and panting? Food never sits well in my stomach when I’m on the ice—or when I’m nervous. I feel it in there. So before games, I eat just enough to keep me going.

“You nervous?” Roman asks when we’re on the bus back to the arena.

“Nah.”

“How?”

“Just excited.” I grin. “I know we got this. Nerves get in the way.”

He shakes his head and brings his attention to the front of the bus. I notice who he’s looking at almost immediately. Nico Laurent. He’s got it bad.

When we get off the bus, we walk to the arena. I chat with the guys about the game, trying to pump them up so we can have a good game. We change into our gear and our captain gives us a speech that has all of us on our feet and cheering. The energy can be felt all around the room, and that’s the exact thing we need before going out onto the ice.

“I am so fucking ready for this,” I say.

A few of the guys around me nod, agreeing.

When it’s time to go, I walk with my head held high.

“Let’s win the fuck out of this game!” I shout as we walk down the tunnel. The guys cheer in response.

When I’m on the ice, I’m home. It’s always been a safe place for me, especially when nothing else was.