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“You got this.” He squeezes my shoulders. “One question before I send you in there. Two, actually.”
“Okay.”
“First, can I hug you?”
I’m momentarily stunned, so it takes a few seconds for me to respond. “Um, yes?”
“No pressure if you’re not a hugger.”
“I like hugs.”
“Excellent. Me too.” He envelops me with his arms.
It feels…nice. Good. And he still smells good, even though he’s been skating his ass off for hours. Like cologne and deodorant, fresh laundry, and man-boy sweat.
It’s over far too soon.
“Question two, can I stick around and drive you home? Or as close to home as you’re okay with?”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know. I want to. Besides, I never finished telling you about the rest of my master plan that was foiled thanks to Mav’s awful timing.”
“Right. How could I forget about that? Sure. If you want to stick around, that’s cool with me.”
“Awesome. I teach until seven. Team practices run about the same, so I’ll catch up with you after.” He kisses me on the cheek. “I gotta run. Knock ’em dead.”
He walks away, leaving me entirely discombobulated in the best way possible.
8 ALL THE GOOD THINGS
Winter
It takes less than five seconds for Alex Waters to notice me when I enter rink five. Part of it might be because I’m not suited up or wearing a team jersey.
Alex Waters is a big man—well over six feet, with broad shoulders, a thick head of dark brown hair, gray flirting at the temples. He should be intimidating, but his wide, friendly smile immediately puts me at ease. “We were hoping you’d come out today. Why don’t you lace up and I’ll grab you a temporary jersey. Randy will introduce you to the team.” He brings his fingers to his lips and whistles shrilly.
Randy Ballistic glances over his shoulder, and as soon as he sees me, he gives the players instructions and skates over, wearing the same wide grin as Alex. “Very happy to see you here today, Winter.”
“BJ convinced me it was a good idea.”
“He’s got persuasion down to an art,” his dad says.
“I’ll grab Winter a jersey while you introduce her to the team, eh?” Alex asks.
“Absolutely. Let’s get you on the ice,” BJ’s dad says.
I jam my feet back into my skates, my toes protesting the return to their cramped prison. Alex reappears as I finish lacing up and hands me a jersey. “If you decide you want to play for the team, we’ll get you a number and set you up with new gear.”
“Right, okay. Thank you.” I have a million questions, mainly pertaining to costs and what playing on this team will look like, but for now I table them and give myself permission to enjoy this opportunity. The Hockey Academy’s women’s team is number one in the state, and their captain has broken scoring records this season.
There’s a round of introductions, and I’m grateful everyone’s last name is on their jersey. We spend the first hour running drills, and then we’re divided into two teams so we can scrimmage. Despite my lack of formal training, I keep up with the rest of the players for the most part. And thanks to my lesson from BJ today, I’m more confident in the crease. I manage an assist and a goal for my team, which earns me praise from both sides.
At the end of practice, Coach Waters pulls me aside. “You were great out there, Winter.”
“Thanks. I had so much fun.”
He smiles. “I’m glad to hear that.” He passes me what looks like a coupon. “Once you’re showered and changed, you can join the team in Iced Out, our cafeteria. There’s a buffet. Just give the hostess that ticket because they comp our players. If you decide you want a place on the team, you’ll get an ID card and the coupon won’t be necessary.”
