Page 1 of Date With Skates

Chapter One

Connor

The fucking Olympics.

How did I get so lucky? I’ve been told my entire hockey career that I’m better than most, and my stats speak for themselves—but the Olympics? It’s a level I thought could only be in my dreams.

I’ve been a great hockey player since the first day I picked up a stick and put on skates at twelve years old, yet this is the first year I’ve been invited to play for Team USA. Of course, there are plenty of players who are better than me, and there are only so many spots available, but damn… if I died tomorrow—no, actually, in like two weeks when they’re done—I’d die a happy man.

Our team got to The Village a little while ago, and we’re being shown to the building we will be staying in. We have our room assignments, and I was hoping I’d be rooming with my buddy, Richtor, who also plays for the Diamonds. There are two guys on the Diamonds I’m close with—Damien Richtor and Roman Callahan. Unfortunately, Callahan didn’t make it, though he should have. He’s my partner on the ice and when we play together, we’re nearly unstoppable.

Richtor is my partner off the ice. The guy I go to bars with to drink and find hook ups. That’s not really Roman’s thing, but that’s totally cool. We’re still close, just in a different way.

Richtor, though, is rooming with Jaxon Charlton from the Vegas Aces, and I’ll be with Sebastian Floyd, from the Toronto Tornadoes. He’s the only guy here from the Tornadoes—because he’s US born—and will be here in a few days, missing a practice or two, because his team had a game that he didn’t want to miss. They’re close to getting to the playoffs, so I get it. Not mad about it either, because that means I get a few nights to myself.

Fuck yes.

“What are we doing first?” I ask once Vera, the person assigned to show us to our building, has walked off to do whatever else she needs to do.

Richtor cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, “Food!”

Richtor is exactly how you’d expect him to be with a name like Damien Richtor. You always know he’s around. Not just because he’s loud and makes it known, but because he has that glowing presence about him. Dark curly hair, dark eyes, and a chin that some guys would kill for.

The other guys agree with getting food by whooping and clapping, which causes a bit of attention. Some on-lookers smile humorously while others scoff.

Yeah, I know… we’re the loud and obnoxious Americans.

We make a plan to put our stuff away in our rooms, change to represent our team and country, and then meet at the doors of the dining hall.

There are a bunch of us, so we have to take turns using the two elevators since we all can’t fit. Once on my floor, I check out the little apartment-like room.

It’s similar to an extended stay hotel. You step into the small kitchenette, with a just-as-small living room ahead. On either side are the bedrooms, with a small bathroom that I can hardly fit in. I choose the bedroom to the left, leaving the one on the right to Floyd. I toss my bags in the corner and change into the outfit we’re told to wear when out and about, to show off our team pride.. It’s laid out on the bed for me, thanks to the staff, and my gear is already at the arena, thanks to our amazing equipment team. Having people do things like this for me was hard to get used to. For a long time, I took care of myself. Now? I have people that do just about everything for me, and it’s still strange, even after ten years of being a pro hockey player.

I’m being thoroughly taken care of, which I’m not mad about. I don’t have anyone to take care of me in any other aspect of my life, so it’s nice to be spoiled, even if they’re paid to do it.

I was adopted when I was twelve. My parents didn’t have the option to lie to me about it, because I was old enough to know. They never treated me like I wasn’t theirs either, not even before the adoption was final and I was just their foster kid. They always made me feel special and wanted.

When I was old enough, around sixteen, I think, they explained to me what happened with my mother and why she had to give me up. I understood and appreciated that she was wise enough to give me up rather than try to take care of me and potentially ruin my life. She was an addict and could barely take care of herself. Of course, there are parts of me that resent her—the parts that are traumatized from the bad homes I was in, but I continue to work hard on forgiving her and accepting what happened to me so I can move on.

When I started my professional hockey career at twenty-one, I looked for her. I had the means and money to put her into treatment, but it was too late. She’d been dead for six years at that point. My parents didn’t know and they were as sad as I was to find out the truth. My bio father was not listed on the birth certificate, so no one knows who he is. He could be out there somewhere. These days, there are ways to find people, but I’m not sure he’s someone I want to find.

My father, the one who adopted me and will always be my father, passed away two years ago. My mother is living in a residential care facility now. Her Alzheimer’s progressed so quickly it felt like it came out of nowhere. I make sure she has the best care because she took care of me when I needed it, so I’ll always do the same for her. If I could do it myself, I would, but I travel too much and don’t have the time.

I don’t mind taking care of her in any aspect she needs. I like taking care of people, especially those who really need it, and have thought of adopting one day too. For now, I have Spike, my bearded dragon. It’s the most I can handle with my long travel times. I know he misses me when I’m gone, but he loves his babysitter, Jayden, the twelve-year -old kid who lives next door.

He’s a good kid. Huge hockey fan. I’ll never forget his face when he saw me the first time. Said he didn’t really believe that Connor McVoy from the Colorado Diamonds was going to be his neighbor.

Before heading out, I stop by the bedroom window and look down at the square. People representing their countries are walking around, the energy is buzzing with excitement, even all the way up here. Everyone is thrilled to be here, myself included. Not only to play hockey and bring home the gold, but to meet all the other talented athletes who made it here too. There’s no better place to improve at something than surrounding yourself with the best.

I may be thirty-one already, but I’m nowhere near done with my hockey career. The sky is the limit for me.

“Did you hear the good news?” Richtor asks as he drops into the open chair beside me in the dining hall, his plate full of food.

It’s day three at the Olympics, and I still can’t believe this is really happening.

“Did you take one of everything? Shit,” I laugh.

He gives me the middle finger. “Well?”