Page 37 of On Thin Ice

So he was unbelievably surprised when he skated onto the ice to finish his warmups before practice started, and there Jacob was, in a lightweight gray zip-up and black track pants, skating around the ice like it was nothing.

Like his voice had never wavered, the other night, just talking about coming back.

That he hadn’t said he couldn’t, because now he was.

“Hey,” Finn said, skating over. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”

Jacob looked up at him. Shrugged. “Wasn’t sure I would be either. Wasn’t sure so I didn’t mention it.”

“Coach’s okay with it?”

“Yep. Even sent me the schedule. And he got me in touch with the facilities manager here. We’ll have some non-practice ice time, too.”

“Really?” Finn could barely believe it. “Are you sure? I don’t want to push you. Not if it’s something you’re not comfortable with.”

“I know my limits,” Jacob said firmly.

“Alright.” Finn smiled then extended his arms. “You gonna kick my ass again?”

Jacob chuckled. “You need your ass kicked?”

“Actually . . .” He’d wanted to text Jacob this more than once but then he’d worried it would be too pushy—or would make Jacob think he was trying to make this thing between them about more than just hockey. “It’s going good. Better.”

“Yeah? When’s the next game?”

Finn smiled even wider. Enjoying that he was totally going to catch Jacob pretending ignorance—but he knew better. Theybothknew better.

“Oh so you were just tellingsomeone elseCoach sent you the schedule,” Finn teased, nudging him.

There were so many layers of fabric and cushion between them, but he felt it like they were still naked in the sauna.

It would be so much easier if this electric chemistry faded but Finn was beginning to think that no matter how many times he reminded himself to focus on hockey, it would always be there, lurking in the background.

“I . . .well, yeah,” Jacob said, sounding flustered. “He did send it. But Gavin could be starting the other goalie.”

“Nick? He’s a freshman. He’ll get a start every so often, to give me a breather, but mostly . . .it’s on me.”

“How’d you feel about that?”

For a second, Finn considered lying. If Jacob was his dad or Coach or one of the other players, he’d have put on a confident front, talking some bullshit about what a great opportunity it was to get more work.

But Jacob knew. He’d been there. Surely there’d been some time in his career when a team had leaned on him maybe a little too hard.

“Not great,” he admitted. “You know how it is.”

“I do. If you ever need to take a break in practice, you tell me.” Finn was sure he saw approval in his eyes. For Finn’s honesty?

“I’m good,” Finn said and meant it. If Jacob was actuallyhere, and willing to help—he was going to give him every minute he could.

“You warmed up?”

“Give me ten,” Finn said, and Jacob nodded.

He went through his final stretches, making an effort to shift his focus from excitement—he’dcome, he washere—to the headspace he sank into every time he took the ice.

By that point, Coach had taken the ice, Zach skating closely behind him, and out of the corner of his eye, Finn watched as they greeted Jacob. When they’d finished with him, moving over to where the lines had started to arrive on the ice, Mal and Elliott snarking at each other and Ivan rolling his eyes, Finn headed over in Jacob’s direction.

He’d set up next to the goal. Had a stick in his hands now and was moving a few pucks kitty-corner to it.

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