Skating Past My Icy Heart

a's

ummed like they w

ine sheet I'd polished in my head all night. I stood at the boards in my scuffed white guards, duffel bag biting int

week. "Hockey pays the bills, Aria." As if my mid-air

onto the i

xel felt tight, landing a little forward, but the burn in my thighs felt like home. I could still fix this season. I had

o the boards two f

blades scr

he way, p

built like a refrigerator. Cole Brennan. Team enforcer. Professional pain-in-my-existence. He glided p

with my toe pick a

rk hair stuck to his forehead. A thin scar cut through his left eyebrow. His ey

it b

pleas

stick against the ice. "You're not

how that works when someo

ed one second away from body-checking me into next week. Goo

kicked it back to him w

hen he laughed once, short and sharp, like he coul

kshop that line in

horn blasted. Coach Harrow's voic

d drill. Lang-off my ice u

e that barely ex

g Cole's. "Some of us actually need

the cocky mask slipped and something raw showed unde

ed after me. "J

ot screaming. Mom had already picked up a third shift at the hospital so we could afford new boots this year. I couldn't tell her the

open. Mr. Patel, the manager, loo

e. My offi

ks flushed from cold and irritation. We stood side by side in the tiny office

igure skaters saying hockey's eating the schedule. Hockey saying th

d. "We pay

the five-to-six dawn patch. Split it, alternate ends, I don't c

open. "You can'

on or off the ice and you're suspended. Colle

bobbed. He n

ice with him? Every morning? I'd

y path, towering. Up close he smelled like cold a

, ice princess. I

chin up. "And if you so much as nick me with a puck ag

corner of his mouth lifted-not quite

gonna b

ly grazing mine, and the contact shot s

it, I ha

back over his shoulder,

incess. Try not t

r room do

cket pocket. One new messa

the showcase. Meet me tomo