Page 148 of Jaded

I don’t think I’ve seen this many people for an open skate in years. Maybe ever.

Shit.

I tilt my forehead against the glass. Breathe in the cold air, watch those whirling skaters. This is because of Olli. Because ofSyd. Hell, it’s even because of Jesse. And here I am . . . trying to stop them, even as I tell myself I want to save this rink.

Syd says I’m scared of the past—but the reality is, I’mstuckin it.

And I’m keeping everyone around me stuck in it too. Holding everyone back because I’m afraid to move forward. Afraid to upset the delicate balance I’ve struck with my world.

So . . . what do I do? Skate in this fucking tournament? Let the world see me for what I truly am—just like Olli said? LetSydsee me? And Avery, Olli, all the people who now know me as this grumpy, taciturn has-been?

I sigh, my breath fogging the glass.

I don’t know. I really don’t.

So I watch the skaters. Watch the adults laugh as they struggle to stay on their feet—their years of childhood debauchery on the ponds clearly left in the past—the kids whizzing around, racing and chasing each other. Watch the toddlers sit and eat snow off their mittens.

I smile, remembering how Syd used to do that. I put her on the ice as soon as she could walk, and she never wanted to get off. So I signed her up for league after league, took her to early morning practices and late night games. Brought her to the ponds, to open skates, stick and puck, open hockey.

Anything for my baby girl.

I watched her grow, watched her blossom, watched her learn to love the game as I once had. Loved that she loved it, loved that she had what I couldn’t. But it was always different for her, wasn’t it? When you’re a five-foot female, even surrounded by boys you know you can beat, it’s different.

Syd’s dream has always been different from mine.

Just like it is now.

So why do I care so much about this tournament? About Jess?

I turn away from the glass, head to the Zam to cut the ice as the skate draws to a close. The machine hums to life beneath me, dark and comforting, a low rumble that’s accompanied me through many years of cold mornings and black nights.

There’s still four hours before the tournament starts, but with nothing else scheduled in between, this is the last cut before the big showdown. Dingoes players will start arriving soon. And I’m sure Olli will be the first through that door. If he’s not already here.

As if on cue, my phone chimes with a text, and I look down.

Olli: Ready, Mouse?

My stomach churns at the sight of his name, but I’m not sure why.

I’d be pissed if a stranger who used to be my brother took my kid.But if he knew how I’d dragged Syd away from Jesse, away from her future, would he still have supported me?

I shove my phone back into my pocket and grab the shovel to scrape off the excess snow. I’ll head to the back room after, stay sequestered while the players arrive and I decide whether I’m skating.

I’m just hauling off the last of the ice when my phone buzzes. Ringing.

I freeze. Wouldn’t be JB, because he knows I’m working today. Brenda does too. Syd’s mad, Avery’s never called, Olli . . .

I rip my phone from my pocket.

Syd’s name flashes, and my stomach drops faster than a rocket in freefall, like gravity’s suddenly wrapped its cold fingers around my insides.

“Syd.” My voice is a croak as I jam the earpiece against my cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“Dad.” Her voice shakes. I can’t tell if it’s fear or anger or injury, but there’s so much emotion laced through that one word, my entire body goes cold as ice. “Dad, I—”

She chokes on a sob.

“Sydney.” I’m already heading for the door. Doesn’t matter that I’m at work, that the tournament is coming, that Olli will be here soon, that I haven’t decided—everything else fades to fucking black. “Syd. Talk to me.”

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