Page 122 of Hat Trick
“I did,” I say. “I knew it all along.”
I smile when the group creeps around the first bend. Maverick and Hudson are doing most of the work, the ones dictating the direction and increasing their momentum while Riley glides along with them, but he carefully lifts his right foot. He wobbles for a half a second before he sets his skate back on the ice and drops his head back as his shoulders shake with either a laugh or an onslaught of tears.
When they make it back to me, they come to a stop. He grips Maverick and Hudson’s sides, flailing slightly when Grant lets go of his hands and drops to his knees to fix his laces. Riley’s gaze meets mine, eyes bloodshot and misty behind his glasses. A tear tracks down his cheek and catches in the hollow his throat. His lips part and the silentthank youhe mouths makes me light up. I give him a thumbs-up in return, feeling like I just won the damn lottery.
* * *
An hour later,things aren’t going well.
Riley’s fallen three times.
He stops to adjust his prosthetic, grimacing when he takes his right skate off then slips it back on. Frustration is etched on his face in scrunched eyebrows and a line of wrinkles across his forehead, and after another failed attempt around the rink, he climbs into the penalty box and buries his face in his hands.
“Should we—” Maverick looks at him and scratches his jaw. “I don’t want to be pushy. But I don’t want to be unsupportive.”
“He might need a minute. I’m going to get the other guys out of here,” Hudson says, glancing at me. “Do you want to talk to him, Lex?”
“Me? I’m not a hockey player. I don’t know what to say that would make him feel better.”
“You don’t need to say anything.” Liam gives me a gentle shove, and I hop onto the ice. “Being there is going to be enough.”
I grumble at their insistence and skate to the penalty box. I drop on the bench next to Riley, the lack of space apparent when our knees press together, but I don’t mind. I like the feel of his body against mine.
“Hey,” I say, and his shoulders sag. “What’s going on?”
“I’m fucking awful out there. I can’t even stand up.”
“Yeah, because it’s your first time back on the ice in months.”
“This was a stupid idea.” Riley starts to untie his laces and yanks off his left skate. “I’m tapping out.”
“Riley.” I scoot closer and put a hand on his forearm. He relaxes under my touch, and I drag my thumb up to his elbow then down to his hand. “I’m a shitty skater. I’m not going to pretend to know what it feels like for you to be out there trying something you used to excel at.”
“You can’t be that bad.”
“Oh, I’m atrocious. We’d be like bowling pins if the two of us went out there.” He huffs out a disgruntled laugh, and that encourages me to keep talking. “I’m so proud of you.”
“What is there to be proud of?” His voice cracks, and I can’t help but hug him. I can’t help but squeeze him tight, trying to send all of my encouragement and excitement for him through the embrace. “I tried. It didn’t work out. I’m done.”
“Tell me about the first time you put on a pair of skates.” I bend and unlace his right skate, wiggling it off his foot and smiling at the socks he’s wearing that are covered in tiny printed pizzas. “How old were you?”
“Four? Five? Might’ve been younger than that. My dad is a big hockey guy, and the second I was comfortable walking around the house, he was corralling me onto the ice.” Riley stops and lifts his chin, staring out at the rink. Maverick, Hudson, and Liam are playing an easy game of keep away, passing the puck with the inside of their skates and chasing it down when it goes too far. “I remember holding his hand and gliding across the frozen pond. My mom was a nervous wreck.”
“Was it fun? Scary?”
“I was so terrified. I was afraid I was going to hurt myself if I fell, and the first time I wiped out, my dad picked me up from under my arms. He put me back on two feet. And the world kept moving. Haven’t been scared since.”
“How long did it take you to become a good skater?”
“Years. I was shitty at first. There’s a video of me as a kid at practice and I’m crawling across the ice because I couldn’t balance.” Riley pauses. “Probably looked similar to today.”
“What did you do to improve? To get to where you are now?”
“I practiced every day. I would skate before school. I’d come home and skate until it was dark. I skated until everything hurt and I couldn’t lift my legs, then I skated even harder. One day, it all clicked. I can’t really describe it. I got on the ice, pushed off, and that was that. Haven’t looked back since. Until now.”
“It took time. Effort. Energy. Trying and failing over and over again, right?”
“Right.” He sniffs and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. I hear his choked sob. The agony pulled from his chest when he whispers, “I’d give fucking anything to go back to those days. I didn’t know how good I had it.”
