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“That’s different. That’s me watching you, and you wear protective gear, so I don’t have to worry about you getting hurt or anything.”
She laces our fingers. “What’s this about, BJ?”
“What if I can’t get back to where I was? What if it’s too hard or the injury has messed things up so much that I’ll never be able to compete again?” I’ve been warned it’s a possibility.
“You’ll never know if you don’t try.” She sits up. “I get that it’s scary, BJ. It was scary for me when I tried out for the women’s team. All this hope and fear mixed together. What if I didn’t make the cut? What if I made the cut and then screwed it up somehow? What if I got close to the dream and couldn’t catch it? But you were right there, telling me to take the chance. You would never let me walk away from hockey if the roles were reversed.”
“I have to start from square one.”
“I know. But I’ll get on the ice every day with you, if that’s what you need, BJ. You can’t avoid it forever. You love it too much.”
“Not as much as I love you.”
She smiles softly. “I love you too. Which is why I’ll keep pushing you on this. You can’t let fear hold you back.”
My avoidance of ice time ends abruptly the following evening.
I’m sitting at my desk in my bedroom, working on an assignment, when Winter comes in and closes the door. She crosses to the dresser and retrieves an all-black outfit. This means she might be planning to work out or something.
I abandon my reading and make it across the room by the time she’s down to her panties. I wrap an arm around her waist, and she links her hands behind my neck, tipping her chin up for a kiss.
When I start to work my way down her neck, she covers my mouth with her palm and pushes back. “I booked us ice time at the school rink. We have it for an hour from seven until eight.”
It’s six thirty. “I can make you come first.”
She shakes her head and steps back. She motions to her mostly naked body. “You can have me however you want me after ice time.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it, though? I seem to remember you pulling the same thing on me when we first started spending time together.”
“That was different. You didn’t almost die.”
Her expression softens. “You’re still here, thank God. Still beautiful, still breathing, still living. I’m not asking you to spend an hour on the ice. I’m asking you to put your skates on and take the first step. If that’s all you can handle, that’s okay. But you can’t know unless you try. And afterward, we can take care of each other, because that’s what we do, BJ.”
I sigh. “I’m really fucking nervous.”
“I get it. And I’d be sorry that I’m using sex as a weapon, but we both know part of you wants to get back on the ice, so I’m not above using your hormones against you.”
Twenty minutes later, I’m wearing skates for the first time in over a month. It feels weird, awkward. My thigh is already burning, and I haven’t even stepped onto the ice, but Winter is right. I can’t avoid this forever. And if there’s one person I’d want to do this with, it’s her.
She’s already out there—wearing a pair of black leggings and a fitted long-sleeve shirt that hugs every muscle and curve. The whole way here, she talked about positions and how much she’s looking forward to a marathon sex day when I’m up for it. I gotta admit, it’s a strong motivator.
She holds out a hand, and I slip my fingers into hers, putting one foot on the ice and then the other.
“How you doing so far?” she asks.
“I’m still breathing.” Memories of the last time I was out here hit me with a ferocity I don’t expect—how Adele and I had been on point, how clean the routine had been until it wasn’t. How everything changed in a second.
And then Winter was there. I see now what I couldn’t before—how scared she was at that moment, how bad the situation was. She wraps her arms around me. “It’s okay if today is a struggle, BJ. I’m here.”
I return the hug. I don’t know how long we stand there, but I’m grateful for the comfort her presence brings. Eventually I pull back, and we link hands and do a slow lap around the rink. Everything is stiff at first, and the ache in my thigh makes me sweaty and nauseous, but I push through, and Winter is right there, encouraging me, telling me I’m doing amazing and that she’s so damn proud of me.
After the first couple of laps, the sharp ache dulls, and the sick feeling in my stomach ebbs. We keep lapping the rink until I tell her I’ve had enough for today. We don’t use the showers at the arena. Instead, she takes me home and we get into the shower together and have slow, easy sex. Then we climb into bed and make out some more.
“How do you feel now that you’ve been back on the ice?” She runs her fingers through my hair. It’s a lot longer than usual, in part because I don’t have a reason to cut it.
“Good. Better. Thank you for pushing me.”
