Page 27 of On Thin Ice

Finn had been doing drills like this since he’d started playing goalie, but it had been a long time since he was pushed this hard or for this long.

His last coach and also Coach B both knew he had the basics down and both believed in quality of practice, not necessarily quantity.

But Jacob clearly believed differently. Because he left Finn in there longer than he’d ever dreamed, until sweat was running down his face, down his back, until he felt broken down, until all that was left was the puck and the goal.

Not even Jacob.

He didn’t even register anymore.

It became a test, one Finn was determined, with every aching muscle in his body, to pass.

Finally, the machine clicked on an empty chamber, and Jacob reached over, turning it off.

“Hundred pucks,” Jacob said casually. “Not easy, is it?” He wandered over to a mini fridge set against the wall and grabbed a bottle of water, tossing it over in Finn’s direction. He caught it with his free hand, because his other hand seemed permanently clamped around his stick. He tried to loosen it, but his fingers cramped, rejecting the idea it was over.

“No,” Finn said with a short, humorless laugh. He finally got his hand to loosen, letting the stick clatter to the floor. Pushed the helmet off and chugged half the water, set it down, and yanked his T-shirt up and off, wiping off his face.

When Jacob’s gaze traced over his abs, his chest, at least the pulse of attraction was easier to ignore since he was fucking exhausted.

They’d have a chance in hell of not acting on the heat between them if Jacob kept working him this hard.

“You weren’t terrible,” Jacob said matter-of-factly. “By the time we’re done, I want you to be able to make it through that whole stretch without a single goal.”

“Seriously?” Finn spluttered. He’d let in maybe a dozen or so shots. But considering the difficulties—the sheer number of pucks shot at him and the lack of pads he usually relied on—he’d been pretty proud of how low that number actually was.

“I do it a couple times a week, still,” Jacob said. Like that wasn’t completely fucking certifiable.

“You do realize you’re retired, right?” Finn said, annoyance coupled with frustration making him crueler than he’d ever wanted to be.

“Oh, I realize it,” Jacob said, not insulted, even though maybe he should’ve been. “But it keeps the mind sharp and the body primed and ready to go. It reminds me to lead with my instincts. You got there, towards the end. You let all that shit and your baggage drop and you justplayed. You gotta get into that headspace every single damn time you take the ice.”

“I—”

“I know,” Jacob said as he started gathering the pucks up into the machine’s hopper. “It’s gonna take time.”

“I was gonna say I can’t do that. It’s fucking impossible.”

Jacob shot him a look that spoke volumes. Like,you can’t say that word here.Like,you’re never allowed to give up that easily.Like,I’m not fucking giving up on you that easy.

“Yeah? Okay.” Jacob didn’t argue though. Not with words.

He skated over, and his big body moved with a state of grace that Finn could barely believe. Before Finn could react, he plucked the helmet right off Finn’s head, apparently not caring about Finn’s sweat slicked inside. He picked up the stick Finn had dropped and tested the weight.

“Not my favorite, but it’ll be fine. A challenge,” Jacob said, his eyes suddenly not flinty buthot. He hip-checked Finn out of theway and gestured towards the machine. “Turn it on, okay? And turn the speed up to full.”

Exhaustion was making him slow—not just mentally but physically. “Are you joking?”

Jacob made an exasperated noise. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

“Listen, I know you’re good, you don’t have to prove anything—”

“You think that’s what this is about?” Jacob laughed. “Oh baby, I’m not proving anything to you. Or to anyone else. I’m proving it tome.”

It occurred to Finn, as he found the speed switch, changing the setting, and then re-loaded the pucks, watching Jacob prepare himself out of the corner of his eye, that he couldn’t actually remember the last time he’d set out to prove something to himself. Tojusthimself.

His team, his coach, the hockey community, hisdad, they were always there, in his head, cluttering up his motivation until it was all twisted up.

That, Finn knew as he finished loading the pucks, was the biggest problem. And Jacob hadn’t even had to fucking tell him. He’d justshowedhim.

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