Page 33 of Skate the Line

We got our legs back, and they’re fucking strong.

“Swiper no swiping.” Malaki zips past, and adrenaline flies to my hands. It’s a stupid name for the play, but considering Malaki came up with it, he got to name it.

The line is tracking the call, and as soon as Malaki swipes the puck away, it goes right to my stick. I play with it for a few seconds before sending it to Kane, who sends it back to me.

A Hurricane player comes up on me quickly, and I slip it between his legs, and Kane is in possession.

He’s in the perfect spot.

Smack-dab in center ice.

I watch him wind up. He has phenomenal control of the puck. I’ve never seen anything like it.

At the last moment, I shout to Malaki, “Up!”

He jumps, and the little black puck hits the back of the net, going right between the goalie’s legs.

Kane skates off, acting unperturbed. The crowd is going wild as the team skates over to him, patting him on the back. Our helmets hit, and I feel myself grinning.

Kane snorts. “I got you to smile? Let me fix that.”

I squint, feeling my smile disappear right away. Kane wraps his arm around my shoulders, and before I can shake him off, he gets close and says, “I saw your new nanny.”

My spine stiffens. I know Kane can feel it through my pads. He skates off, laughing. We play a few more seconds before the buzzer sounds, and we head toward the locker room.

I watch Kane like a hawk. His attention swings to the box seats that I gave to Sunny for her and Ellie to sit in. I’ve done a good job at staying centered and focused during the game. After all, I owe it to my team after spending the first half of the season distracted.

There may be less anxiety that it’s a home game too, keeping me from constantly searching for Ellie.

Or is it because you know Sunny isn’t like the rest?

I push the thought away because one week of being my daughter’s nanny doesn’t make me trust her.

Emory comes up behind Kane and nudges him from behind. I see them talking to each other as I slowly skate toward the bench. Before I make it all the way, I watch Emory peer up at the box and then shake his head at Kane.

I groan and pull my mask away from my face. I look in the same direction toward the stands with a knot in my stomach. The last several times Ellie has come to a game, the nanny has abandoned her. A few have left altogether. The redhead, I learned, was getting fucked by one of the other team’s coaches in the locker room. Try explaining that to a five-year-old.

My jaw unclenches when I see that Ellie is perfectly fine. Her rosy cheeks are smashed onto the glass as she follows the ice girls who are cleaning the ice shavings for the third period.

Unfortunately, my jawreclencheswhen I see Sunny standing beside her...wearing my fucking jersey.

Jesus fucking Christ.

I’m spinning with emotions. I stand on the ice and glare into the stands, unable to skate forward.

“Excuse me.” One of the ice girls moves around me, and it shakes me out of my trance.

Why the hell is Sunny wearing my jersey?Did she just…go into my room and grab it? What would make her think that I’d be okay with that?

The disappointment is fresh.

My teeth click. I squeeze my jaw tightly.

Not only am I angry that she’s wearing my jersey, but I’m angry that I expected something different with her. As each day passed with Sunny as Ellie’s new nanny, my optimism grew. I’d watched her closely, and she seemed genuine, like she was there to fulfill her duties and nothing more.

Now look at her.

My fists tighten.

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