Page 64 of Against The Boards

She laughed and skated off to the other side of the ice. Watching her skate made me want to help her get back into the game. Back on a team. I wanted to see this hot-headed woman in hockey gear, snipping and chirping at her opponents.

That’s how I knew I was fucked when it came to Roxanne Desjardins. I had already fallen for her.

Chapter Nineteen

ROXANNE

I couldn’t believe he had man-handled me into getting back on the ice. I hadn’t been on my skates in three years, and that wasn’t without some unsuccessful coaxing from my twin brother.

In one night, Michael Bennett had brought down all my defenses. I slowed my skating to a crawl while he looped circles around me. The hockey player in me was equally impressed and turned on by his speed on the ice.

Was that weird?

Maybe, but I didn’t care.

Slicing my skates into an iced surface was something I learned before I could talk. Alain Desjardins wanted his kids to be in skates as soon as possible, and he beamed when both Tristan and I took to it like we were born for it. Which we were.

Thinking about my dad made my heart hurt. My mom and I didn’t always see eye-to-eye, but it stung when she denied who I was. My dad and I had always been close. It was like a knife to my heart when he let my mom tell me bisexuality wasn’t real. It would have been nice if my dad wasn’t such a teddy bear who agreed with everything my mother said.

Benny’s skates scraped the ice next to me, and this time, he sprayed me with ice.

“Hey!” I yelled at him.

He smiled cheekily, and we raced after each other on the ice. I was mad when he said he wanted to take me somewhere today, and it was to an ice rink. It scared me to get back on the ice, but now that I was here, I was glad he’d pushed me. This was my happy place. I never thought I would be here, especially not with the man I’d hated for so many years.

The hockey player in me itched to be barreling down on the breakaway with my stick in hand, chasing after the puck. I missed hockey. Why hadn’t I been on skates in three years? Oh, right. I was scared of getting another concussion that could turn into CTE.

I wasn’t sure yet, but that drive was hitting me hard. I missed this sport, and I thought I wanted to play again. That thought should have terrified me, but for the first time in years, I was excited to be on the ice.

My skates were stiff from sitting in a box for three years. Before I hung them up, they’d needed to be replaced, but I had been putting it off for as long as possible. Breaking in skates was such a bitch, but if I wanted to play hockey again, I needed to replace my skates. That was a problem for another day, though.

I hadn’t felt this happy in a long time. If Benny didn’t force the conversation about hockey, I might not be on the ice, contemplating my return to hockey. No matter what happened between us, I could at least thank him for encouraging me not to give up on the sport I loved. God, I loved hockey so much, and the thought of getting back to it filled me with bursts of happiness. I couldn’t wait to tell Tristan.

Our chests heaved as we raced against each other. I slowed to a stop and felt Benny’s hands slide around my waist. He kissed my neck, and I craned my head to give him more access. Neck kisses were my favorite thing, and he had latched onto that quickly. I didn’t know what we were doing, but I wanted to enjoy his mouth on me and think about the consequences later.

“Are you still mad at me?” he asked.

I shook my head and spun around on my skates. “No. Thank you for pushing me. I needed this.”

He grinned down at me. “Good.”

I reached my hand up and brushed my thumb across the growing stubble on his jaw. “Benny?”

He gripped my waist, pulled me closer, and tilted down to look at me. I craned my head up, and he crushed his lips onto mine. I gripped his unshaven jaw in my hand while we kissed, our breaths labored and our tongues tangling up. He kissed me like he was on the breakaway, about to score the game-winning goal. He kissed me like I was the way to win the Cup. His kisses made me feel like I had already staked my claim on victory, and I never wanted it to stop.

He pulled away and pressed his forehead against mine, his hands still on my hips. “We should go,” he said. His eyes told me he wanted to do nothing of the sort.

“I know,” I agreed.

“I don’t want to,” he admitted.

I peered up at him. “Why?”

He ran a hand across my cheek and rubbed his calloused thumb on it gingerly. “I’m afraid this spell between us will break as soon as we cross that border.”

I shook my head. “It won’t. You got me back on the ice.”

“Yeah, so?”