Page 77 of Melt the Ice

I’m jumping on my skates in the locker room, my blood buzzing as I sink into game mode. There’s no longer any fear of something happening to Lettie while we're gone, because she’s here. We had breakfast together this morning, complete with Sammy’s normal bitching about his Avocado toast being too thin. Why he continues to order it when it’s almost impossible to meet his standards, I’ll never know.

“Ready?” Reed’s gloved hand bounces off my shoulder pads. I give him a nod, the fluorescent lights flickering as he turns to give his pregame speech. And before I know it, we’re walking out to the ice, sticks in hand, and determination in our hearts.

We’re on a four-game winning streak, and it’d be great to make it five, but it’d be even better to do it with Lettie here. The second my skates hit the ice, the world falls away. My body zeroing in on the task at hand.

I’ve made two laps when a tap on the glass pulls my attention, Hannah’s bright smiling face, Abby’s slightly less smiley face, and Tate, who looks like he would rather be anywhere but here. “Where’s Lettie?” I mouth. Movement in the corner catches my eye, Lettie’s curly hair bouncing with every step. Not only is she wearing a Hawks jersey, but she has a giant picture of my face on a stick.

She wiggles it before pressing it to the glass so I can see. “You look good in my jersey,” I yell. Her responding smile is straight sin. She spins, giving me a view of her back. My number, 26, sits on both arms, and in the middle of the jersey, but when she pulls her hair over her shoulder, “Goldie’s Girl” is written across her shoulder blades instead of my last name.

My head drops back behind me as I let out a groan, “You’re trouble, Lettie Girl.” Throwing her a wink, I skate around the goal a few more times before we’re called to the bench for the national anthem. With renewed strength and a little added motivation, I’m determined to make this the best game I’ve played in a long time.

33

scarlett

You can officially say I’m a hockey fan. Lucas in full hockey gear is a sight I want burned into my memory forever. His already broad shoulders are made impossibly wider by the pads sitting on top of them. The speed at which he flies across the ice is just as fast as he told me at family night. Something I respect because ice skating is incredibly humbling, and he makes it look easier than walking.

I cringe when he slams someone into the boards, steals the puck, and sends it down the ice to Wilson. The ref blows the whistle as the puck ends up on the opposite side with no players around. “Why’d they stop?” I ask, leaning into Abby’s side.

“It’s an icing call,” she responds, eyes watching for any sign of injury or distress from the guys.

My eyebrow hikes, “Icing? Like on a cinnamon roll?”

Her shrill laugh bounces off the glass in front of us, “No. Icing is when a player shoots the puck from behind their side of the red line.” She points to the line at one end of the rink. “And it travels all the way to the opposing team's goal line without anyone touching it,” she says, pointing to the other side.

That seems like a ridiculous name for it, but okay. “Right, I’ll file that away for later.”

“No, you won’t. You’ll tell Monroe how stupid a name you think it is,” she counters.

My hand flies to my chest, “How dare you! It’s like you know me or something.” We laugh for a second before my bladder decides to put me on notice. “I gotta go to the bathroom, be right back,” I call over the music playing while the teams regroup.

Her eyes are weary when she looks at me, “Need me to come with you?”

I shake my head and smile, jogging up the steps, hoping like hell I can get there and back before he scores, or worse, notices I’m gone.

I find myself humming like he does when he’s happy sometimes. I never thought this would be possible for me. To have friends who genuinely want me around and care enough not to let me fight alone. Who have taken me in, made me feel like I’ve always belonged, like I’ve been part of the crew from the start. It’s everything little Lettie always hoped for. I’m washing my hands when a shadow moves across the mirror. My eyes widen when they lock with Damien’s.

“Scream, and it’ll be the last thing you do.” His breath is hot against my ear as his hands lean on the basin in front of me. Damn it, I should have let Abby come with me.

“What do you want?” I ask his reflection, one that looks so unfamiliar. This isn’t the man I’ve seen as my uncle my whole life. This is someone else. His eyes are hard, the lines on his face more pronounced. He looks tired, livid, but tired.

His chuckle is dark, devious in a way I only heard when he was trying to get me to come back. “You’ve caused a lot of trouble for me, girl.” I lift my chin, willing the shake in my hands to stop. Silently begging for someone to walk in here. “I think it’s time you fixed it.”

“I haven’t done anything.”

“Playing dumb doesn’t suit you, Scar.” A flash of light catches my attention, pulling my focus off of him, a big mistake. He presses a knife to my throat before I can take another breath, the cold of the metal makes goosebumps pebble on my skin. A gasp tears from my throat, a truly pathetic sound. “Come on, give me that fire I love so much. The fire that idiot on the ice would lose everything for.”

The air thickens, getting heavier the more my anger spikes, “Leave him alone. He’s lost enough.”

His hum rumbles through me as his chest presses further into my back. “No, he hasn’t lost you… for good. But that’s coming.”

“Why?” I choke on a sob. “Why hurt him?”

The man I thought of as my Godfather for years spins me around, the knife nicking my skin mid-turn. My cry is smothered by his hand, his eyes wild, full of hatred. “Because his stupid father ruined everything for your father. And now you two are about to ruin everything for us. I’ve paid my dues. It’s time I get what’s mine.”

“What are you talking about?”

His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth, “I know you called the Piersons.”