He didn’t say anything.
“Good,” I muttered, pushing past him with a shoulder bump that sent him stumbling back a step. “I have better shit to do, anyway.”
I walked out of the locker room, still fuming from my confrontation with Walker. The last thing I needed was anotherheadache, but there she was, right by the skate counter—Everly Hawthorne.
"For fuck’s sake," I muttered under my breath.
I marched over to the counter, my footsteps padding the rubber mats. "Haven't you had enough yet, little girl? Or do you like the pain?"
Everly glared at me, her eyes fierce and unyielding.
I couldn’t help but smirk. "Whatever you say, sugar," I said, handing her a pair of hockey skates.
I watched Everly fumble with the laces, her frustration evident. The leather was stiff, resisting her attempts to tighten them properly. She glanced up at me, her eyes narrowed in defiance.
"You're doing it wrong," I repeated, stepping closer. "Let me show you."
She hesitated, then reluctantly handed me one of her skates. I knelt down in front of her, taking the laces in my hands. The cold air stung my face, but I focused on the task at hand.
"First, you need to make sure the tongue is centered," I explained, adjusting the tongue of the skate. "If it's off to one side, you'll never get them tight enough."
She nodded, watching intently as I worked.
"Next," I continued, "you need to pull the laces tight from the bottom up. Don't just yank on them all at once."
I demonstrated, pulling each lace tight in sequence, starting from the bottom and working my way up. The leather creaked under the pressure, but it began to mold to the shape of her foot.
"See?" I said, glancing up at her. "Now they're snug."
Everly nodded again, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She took the skate back from me and began to lace up the other one, mimicking my movements.
"Remember," I said as she worked, "it's all about even pressure. If one part is too loose or too tight, it'll throw off your balance."
She finished lacing up her second skate and looked up at me expectantly. I nodded in approval.
"Good," I said. "Now stand up and see how they feel."
She stood and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Then she nodded and suddenly beamed like the fucking sun had just risen inside this dim rink. Her smile was blinding, striking me in a way I hadn’t anticipated.
I stared for a second too long before shaking myself out of it. "Don't smile like that yet," I warned her, my tone rougher than intended. "We haven't even started."
"I know," she said, her voice steady. "But I did it. I tied my skates the right way, Mr. Sinclaire."
I scowled. "Don't call me that," I snapped. "And who the fuck cares? Ten-year-olds can tie their skates too. You don't see them wanting a medal for it."
To my surprise, Everly didn’t flinch. She just gave me a calm, steady look, as if my words had bounced off her.
"All right," I said, turning toward the ice. "Let's see what you can do."
We stepped onto the rink, the cold biting at my face. The familiar scrape of blades against ice filled the air as we glided to the center.
"Start with a simple drill," I instructed. "Skate to the blue line and back."
Everly nodded and took off, her movements hesitant but determined. I followed at a distance, keeping a close eye on her form.
"So how long have you been playing hockey?" she asked as she skated back toward me.
"Since I was a kid," I replied curtly.