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Did I have a flat? Was that what the stupid light had been? It had gone away after a couple of minutes, so I’d figured I’d be okay until I got to the rink.
Now I wasn’t going to make it.
Son of a bitch.
I pulled onto the shoulder and put on my hazard lights.
Sure enough, the front right tire was flat.
I blew out a breath and put on my coat.
Dad had taught me how to change a tire before he’d allowed me to get my license. But that was the only time I’d ever done it. Nearly a decade ago.
I could call him.
Or I could pull up my big-girl pants and do some adulting.
I could do this.
How hard could it be?
I was a strong, capable, independent woman.
Yeah, right.
This was going to be a disaster.
* * *
I gotto the rink an hour later looking like I’d just been in a fight. My hair was a mess, my hands, face, and clothes were covered in black dirt from the tire, and I’d broken two nails. I didn’t worry about makeup or fancy clothes, but I tried not to look homeless when I was out in public.
“What happened to you?” Jana asked as I ran past the bench where she was handling the girls.
“Tell you in a minute!” I yelled back, making a beeline for the locker room.
I washed my hands and face, getting off most of the dirt and grime, and managed to run my fingers through my hair enough to get it into a ponytail. I looked rough, but there was no help for it, and I hurriedly laced up my skates.
“Sorry, everyone,” I said as I got onto the ice. “I got a flat tire on the way here.”
“And you changed it?” Jana’s eyes widened. “That’s awesome! I would’ve had to call my brother.”
“Dad’s busy with the team and I don’t have any brothers,” I retorted, feeling a little salty about the whole thing. I was proud of myself for managing to change the tire but irritated it had taken so long and had eventually required a cop to help me. It wasn’t the tire changing that had been a problem, but I hadn’t been strong enough to get the lug nuts off, so if the policeman hadn’t shown up, I’d probably still be there.
“Coach Jolie! Coach Jolie! Look!” Johanna came waddling over to me wearing goalie gear, and
I couldn’t help but grin at how cute she was.
“Well, look at you!” I reached out and gently tugged her braid. “Where did you get the equipment?”
“I dunno. It had my name on it when I got here.”
I wondered if my father had been responsible for this? I’d mentioned Johanna a few times because I felt bad for her. Her father had been a Marine who’d been killed in a friendly fire incident overseas. Her mother had died in childbirth, so now her elderly great-grandparents were raising her. I didn’t know anything beyond that, but I’d come to worry more about her than the others.
“Well, you better get out there and let Coach Kon show you a few moves. He doesn’t come here very often.”
Konstantin Volkov was the starting goalie for the Mavericks and he didn’t volunteer very often. I’d heard it was because of the language barrier, but it seemed his English had gotten better this season.
I watched Johanna skate toward Kon on shaky feet, but I was proud of her. She’d probably be a great goalie once she got the hang of it. She was a tough little thing.
