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A glowy warm feeling emanated from my chest at the thought of Molly waiting to pelt a man with ice in the name of training. Caring enough to help him improve. Awesome enough to include me. That wasn’t something the world did. The thought nearly choked me. In middle school, I was drowning in self-pity and desperation, the stink of it so foul I could barely tolerate myself. I wanted a friend so badly I tried to mold myself into what the other kids wanted me to be until I met Ransom.
The beep of the coffee maker pulled me out of my reverie. Having a family with Ransom and his Aunt Lori and goofy brother changed everything. They loved me for who I was, neuroses and all.
I grabbed two giant travel mugs, made one for Ransom and one for me, then grabbed a ceramic mug for myself to sip on while I waited for him. Seriously, was he coming?
When it was about time to leave, Ransom emerged dressed and ready to go with a grumpy expression.
Cringing and taking a step back, I held my mug out to him. He polished the whole thing off all at once. “More in the green travel mug. Just the way you like it.”
He grunted and took a few long strides until he was at the coffeemaker. He refilled the ceramic mug, downed it, slammed it on the counter, then grabbed his travel mug and headed to the garage door. Okay, then. I guess we were leaving.
Placing the mug in the sink, I grabbed the container from the freezer, my travel mug, and my coat, and raced to catch up to his giant, pissy strides. Son of a bitch, he was not a morning person.
9
RANSOM
Silence reigned all the way to the rink. I was so furious I couldn’t even speak. What the fuck? We were in the middle of a conversation about how I felt about her, when she was willing to listen to me for a change, and then at the sound of her ringtone she just left. Never came back to finish the conversation. I waited for an hour and she never returned. So, I grabbed a few minutes of sleep and came out at the last possible second. I didn’t want to talk. Not about how I felt about her. Not about anything.
Once we arrived at Ilya’s place, I knew things were about to get less silent. Molly and Phoebe would chatter all the way to the rink.
Molly darted out of the house. I hopped down to give her a hand up into the backseat of the truck. “Hey, guys!”
I grunted my reply as I slid into the driver’s seat.
To my surprise, Phoebe hopped over the bench seat and into the backseat with her. “Hey, girl. Let’s keep our voices down back here. Ransom likes quiet this time of morning.”
So, instead of chattering back and forth at a normal level that I could hear, the two of them sat in the back whispering the entire drive to the rink. That was just fucking great.
Focusing on skating as I drove, I had to find some speed. I knew I was slow. I was a six-foot-seven man on defense. I wasn’t hired because I was fast. I was hired because I could block, fight, and recover a puck. But I hated being so goddamned slow. Pissed me off. So, I was going to get faster. I already knew the speed drills. I just needed to dig in more. Or something.
After helping them down from the truck, I hauled my bag out of the truck bed. Then, I led the girls into the Muskatoon Finance Center and quickly laced up my skates.
As much as I wanted to ignore Phoebe, I couldn’t. As I warmed up, my eyes were drawn to her. Her black hair. Her porcelain skin. Her bright red lips.
After I ran through my usual stretches, I saw Molly out on the ice. She had her skates on and was headed my way. Phoebe stayed in the player’s box for now, which made me scowl. Why wasn’t she coming out too?
Molly approached me with her usual vigor. “’Kay, big fella. I can fix these sluggish feet of yours. How do you feel about pivots?”
I grunted. I fucking hated pivots.
She nodded. “That’s what I thought. So, that’s why we’re going to start with some start/stops, getting those crossovers with quick feet.”
I hated that she was right. This was going to fucking suck. “Are you going to tell me before you start throwing things at me?”
She giggled. “Definitely. That doesn’t start yet. This is mainly a warm-up, getting you used to the crossovers you need. Focus on springing out of the stop. It’s not really a stop. More like a springboard to keep moving.”
I nodded. In theory, I understood what to do. Actually doing it was the problem.
I started up near the goal. With a deep breath, I pushed off and got started. Focusing on my feet, I tried to do as she asked, but after five repetitions, I knew it wasn’t right. Stopping, I went back to the start and did it again. Since it felt a little better, I continued until I’d done about ten this time.
Molly appeared at my side staring down at the ice. “How did that feel?”
I shrugged.
She pointed to where I’d been. “Well, look at the ice. It tells the story. Look at your stops. They’re supposed to be thick and meaty, throwing ice all over the fucking place, but they’re thin. You’re not getting the springboard you need and it’s slowing you down. Try again.”
She got that from looking at the damn ice? Shit, I never even thought of that.
