This is my happy place. Has been since I was six years old and Mom first strapped skates on my feet. The feeling of controlled speed, the way the cold air burns in your lungs, the sound of blades carving through ice.
But today, even hockey can't completely clear my head.
Every time I round the far end of the rink, my eyes drift up to the arena concourse where I can see Emma hanging a massive "Tails & Paws Fundraiser Night" banner across the café entrance. She catches sight of me and gives an enthusiastic thumbs up that nearly makes her fall off the stepladder.
"RYDER SCOTT!"
Coach's voice cuts across the ice like a whip crack, and I realize I've drifted way too close to the boards while lost in thought about hazel eyes and morning-after kisses.
Shit.
I course-correct and pick up speed, but the damage is done. Coach Brody has that look. The one that means I'm about to get my ass handed to me in front of twenty guys who will absolutely never let me live it down.
Sure enough, when warm-ups end and we gather around the bench for instructions, Coach Brody jerks his head toward the tunnel entrance.
"Rookie. A word."
Double shit.
I skate over, acutely aware that every set of eyes in the arena is following my movement. The guys are trying to look busy with their water bottles and stick adjustments, but I can feel their curiosity, and amusement, radiating across the ice.
Hunter Brody is a intimidating presence on his best day. Six-foot-three of former enforcer with darkened gray eyes that have seen everything the game can throw at him.
Today, in the shadowy entrance to the tunnel, he looks like he could bench press a truck just to prove a point.
"Want to tell me where your head's at today?" he asks, straightening his spine and glaring right into my fucking soul.
"My head's right here, Coach. Ready to work."
"Is it?" He crosses his arms over his chest, his Iron Ridge windbreaker jacket stretching across shoulders that are still impressively broad for a man in his forties. "Because from where I'm standing, you look like someone who's got his priorities confused."
My jaw tightens. "My priorities are fine."
"Are they?" He steps closer, and I'm reminded that even on skates, the man is intimidating as hell. "Because I've been hearing things, Scott. Hearing about one too many late nights. And animal shelters. And charity events that have nothing to do with hockey."
"Coach, with all due respect, what I do in my free time—"
"Affects this team," he cuts me off with a sharp glare. "Affects your performance. Affects whether we win or lose on Saturday night."
"My performance has been fine."
"Has it?" He pulls out his phone and scrolls through what looks like practice footage. "Tuesday's scrimmage, you missed three passes that should have been automatic. Wednesday's power play drill, you were half a second late on every play. And today..." He gestures toward the ice where I just spent tenminutes daydreaming. "Today you nearly took out the boards because you were too busy staring at the concourse to watch where you were going."
Each example makes my cheeks get hotter, mostly because he's right. I have been distracted. Have been thinking about Mia when I should be thinking about hockey.
"Look, kid." Coach's voice softens, but there's still steel laced underneath. "I get it. You're young, you're back in your hometown, there's history with some girl. But here's the thing about history, kid. It has a way of repeating itself if you're not careful."
"This is different."
"Is it?" He looks at me with those sharp eyes that seem to see straight through bullshit. "Because last I checked, you walked away from this girl once before to focus on hockey. Now you're back, and suddenly hockey's taking a backseat to whatever this is."
"That's not—" I start, but he holds up a hand.
"Shut it. I'm not finished."
I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry.
"Montreal's coming to town on Saturday," Coach continues. "They're fast, they're hungry, and they've been waiting all season for a chance to embarrass us on home ice. Don't forget, we're Stanley Cup Champions. If your head's anywhere but in this game, they're going to eat us alive."
