Page 28 of Rush the Edge

I’m sure Kane will manage to get a video of me falling on the ice and send it to him anyway, so I won’t have to worry about it.

“Oooh, lucky me,” I mutter as I pull the top of the costume on. “My own Blue Devil jersey.”

The woman taking my measurements snickers. It doesn’t take long for her to get everything pinned in the correct spots. When she’s done, I slowly eye the Blue Devil head again before making my way over to it.

I can’t help but burst out into laughter a moment later as I stare down at it.

Am I seriously taking this job just to prove a point? The pay is good, but is it really that good?

Cindy and the seamstress both turn to look at me like I’m crazy, which at this point, I think I am.

I grab the head, expecting it to be a lot heavier than it is, and slip it onto my shoulders.

It takes all of three seconds for me to burst out into laughter again. It echoes around the bobbling devil head, and I laugh so hard I clutch my stomach.

“Someone please take my photo for my best friend,” I call out.

Natalia asked me how Chicago was during our FaceTime call yesterday, and when I send her this photo, she’ll understand my reluctance.

I pull the head off my shoulders after I hear the shuttering of the camera, my hair a wispy mess. “This is too funny not to share,” I say with a laugh.

“Funny or not”—Cindy shows me the photo, and I laugh harder—“I am so thankful to have filled this spot. You’re literally saving my ass. I was afraid I was going to have to do this.”

“Well…” I smile. “I guess you’re welcome.”

After pulling the outfit off so the seamstress can sew it for tomorrow, Cindy and I go over some of the details before handing me a pair of skates.

“Size eight, right?” she asks.

I nod and begin trying them on.

It’s been a while since I’ve ice skated. I’m certain I’ll be fine, but a few practice rounds might be beneficial, especially with my joints aching a little more than usual today.

“Do you mind?” I nod in the direction of the ice.

Cindy glances at her watch. “Practice just ended. It’s shorter the day before a game, so the ice should be yours.”

Thank god.

Carefully, I make my way toward the arena. The closer I get, the stronger the crisp ice scent is. A pinch of nostalgia hits me, and I smile to myself with the reminder of evenings spent in the stands with my parents, watching River…andKane.

Kane was the one who taught me to skate, which is really just annoying now that I think about it.

The moment my skate lands on the slick ice, energy zooms to my heels and travels all the way to my hips. There isn’t a sound to be heard except for the tiny hash marks I’m cutting into the rink. I start off slow, allowing my body to remember the feel of it, but it doesn’t take long to skate the outer edge of the rink.

Easy peasy.

I can do this.

The nice thing about being the mascot is that no one will even know it’s me.

Except for Kane…but he doesn’t count.

“Uh, who are you?”

I do a half-turn and make eye contact with a tall guy wearing a Blue Devils practice jersey.

“The new mascot,” I say.

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