Page 32 of On the Line

I grab the railing next to her seat as I look up at her. “Compared to?”

“Compared to when you used to wear the Rebels jersey.”

“Why don’t you throw on your figure skates and show me your triple axel,” I tease right back, but there’s a look that crosses over her face—part pain and part longing.

“Never going to happen,” she says quietly, still looking down at me. And that’s when I remember that her competitive skating career ended at US Nationals, back when she was still in high school, with a botched landing on a triple axel and a concussion that lasted for months. She’s never talked to me about it, but I’ve seen the video.

“How about a double, instead?” I give her a little wink so that she knows I’m teasing, but she looks away, her eyes drifting over the ice. Now that our hockey practice is over, the learn-to-skate classes are starting. When she looks back at me, her face is unreadable—which never happens.

“You’ll have to do some digging into old videos if you want to see me on the ice.”

There’s no way she can mean what it sounds like she means.

“You haven’t been on the ice since you stopped competing?”

Her eyes are focused somewhere beyond me. A small shake of her head back and forth, lips held together between her teeth, is her only response.

“Lauren,” I say, because I want her to look at me. I keep my voice low so no one else will overhear our conversation, though her girls are between her and Jules, and Audrey is helping Graham get his gear off, so there’s no one actually listening. “Why not?”

She glances at me, then back at the ice. “I ... I just never could quite force myself to put my skates back on.”

“Not even for fun?”

“Nope.” She looks back at me, her smile falsely bright, and says, “By the way, I took the job with the Rebels.”

“I heard.”

“Word travels fast.”

“So, when do you start?”

“I’m going in for two days at the end of next week for orientation and some training, and then I’m starting part-time the following week.”

“What are you doing with the girls while you’re at work?”

“I’m still figuring that out, hence the part-time status to begin with. Morgan’s going to help me out—she’s moving back a bit ahead of schedule so she can watch the girls for me on the days I’m at work, just until I can find full-time care.”

“I thought she was Petra’s personal assistant? That sounds like it would be a full-time job.”

“It is. But it’s flexible. Petra’s great like that.”

“Hey,” Jules says as she stands and leans over toward us. “Are you guys talking about Morgan? When’s she coming back?”

Lauren looks over her shoulder, and I focus on my sister so Jules doesn’t comment on me being too focused on Lauren. “She’ll be back next week. She’s going to nanny for my girls until I find something full-time for them.”

“Good! Will you give her my number? I know she’s from Boston and probably knows plenty of people, but in case she ever wants to hang out, I’m around.”

“I’m sure she’d love that,” Lauren says to Jules. “Especially since the last time she lived here, she was in high school.”

They start chatting about where Morgan went to high school and college, and as they do, I walk around to the front row of seats, where Audrey’s finishing packing up all of Graham’s gear.

She gives me the side-eye as I approach, right as Graham runs up the row between the seats toward Lauren’s girls. I watch as he slips into the row and gives Iris and Ivy big hugs, tickling them, then kissing them on their heads.

“You said you’d be responsible for all this if I let him play,” Audrey says, the distinct tone of annoyance hanging from every word as she drops his sweaty hockey gear into the bag one piece at a time, accounting for each thing separately as I taught her.

“Sorry, I got sidetracked.”

“You’re always sidetracked when she’s around,” Audrey says, and smiles up at me. “It seems like she makes you happy.”

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