Page 55 of My Last Dance

While I wasn’t lying when I said I forgave for ignoring me, I wasn’t stupid enough to go another round with him. I just…I didn’t trust him not to break my heart.

He cleared his throat. “All right, let’s see if you can repeat it,” he said, motioning to the net.

Lining up to try again, I flicked my wrists the same way he did it, but the puck’s speed wobbled out before it reached the net.

“We’ll work on it,” he said with a grin, but the smile didn’t make it up to his eyes.

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“Enjoying your finance classes?” I asked one morning while drying off my blades.

He snorted. “No.”

My eyes shifted to his. “Then why are you taking them?”

“Figured studying finance was the best way to not be poor anymore.” He must’ve seen the confusion on my face, because he said, “Oh c’mon, I’m literally broke, you had to know that.”

My forehead creased in confusion. “But hockey is expensive, how…”

“Hans.” He stared down at his skates for a beat, then bit out a humorless laugh. “It’s weird to say it out loud because it always felt like a stupid secret.” He swallowed hard. “My mom worked it out with Hans. I was the sponsored player at Centre Ice, so we had discounted bills for ice time and stuff. When I made it on the Hamilton team, I thought I made it just because I was getting paid to play, but it wasn’t a lot, and by the time my agent got his percent, it was barely enough to pay for groceries and expenses and shit.”

“Then how are you paying for school? Is your mom helping?”

“No.” He reared back like that was a crazy suggestion. “Hell no. I wouldn’t ask her to do that. Plus…” He shifted on the bench. “She’s not exactly happy with my decision to be here.” He smirked thinking of his mom. “She wanted me to play one more season.”

“Smart woman,” I quipped. It wasn’t the first time I wondered about his dad, but he’d never mentioned one, and it didn’t feel like my place to ask about him. “How are you paying for school then?”

“Nowthat,”he wagged his finger at me, “is a secret.” He gave me his signature lopsided grin.

My mind raced through all the reasons he wouldn’t tell me. “It better not be illegal,” I blurted out. “I am not bailing you out of jail,Richard.”

“No.” He barked out a laugh, then looked at me flabbergasted. “You really thinkIwould—”

“Yes!”

“Ah, you’re right.” He laughed and smoothed a hand through his sweaty hair. “But no, don’t worry about me, Miss Wyndell-Hamilton, it is not illegal,” he said in a teasing voice, and his mischievous eyes danced. “Let’s just say I’m using my…talents.”

What in the world?“But what does that mean?” I narrowed my gaze at him, trying to break the truth out of him. “Are you coaching hockey?”

“Absolutely not. Coaching is for when I retire. Plus, I don’t think I’d be that great at it. That’s more JP’s thing.”

He was probably right about that. JP was the responsible one with the patience of a saint. Kappy would probably join in on the kids’ shenanigans and end up getting yelled at along with them.

“Then…what are you doing?” I pushed. “Serving? Bartending? Bouncing?”

He rose off the bench and grabbed up his skates and stick. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.” His gravelly voice, that word, and the way his eyes roamed over my body had me heating from the inside out, throwing me all off.

He turned on his heel and sauntered to the exit. Right before he left, he looked over his shoulder and winked at me, shaking me out of my trance.

He totally threw me off on purpose.

“I’m gonna find out!” I yelled at his back.

His laugh echoed in the empty rink. He just lifted his hand in a wave before disappearing out the door.

And then his little secret haunted me the rest of the day.

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