Page 26 of Iowa Intellect
Deciding that Brock will be busy watching the last period of the game, I wiggle out of my tail, lock myself in the bathroom adjacent to my office, and take my time showering and drying off.
By the time I’m fully warmed up, dried off, and feeling human again, the game has ended. When I emerge from the bathroom, Shayna assures me that she has already taken care of the few, minor injuries that occurred during the last period of the game. I thank the efficient woman for covering for me and suggest that she take tomorrow morning off. She readily agrees and breezes away.
It takes me a while to find Brock, even though it probably shouldn’t. The last stragglers from the crowd are exiting the arena when I spot him sitting in the penalty box next to the ice.
Without looking over when I sit down beside him, he places a warm hand on my knee and says, “I certainly spent my fair share of time in this sin bin.”
His tone is wistful, but not necessarily sad.
Deciding to address it directly, I ask, “Was it super hard to watch your teammates play tonight and not be able to join them on the ice?”
“You know, I thought it would be practically impossible,” he answers, staring out at the rink. Turning to look at me, he adds, “But it wasn’t really that bad. I mean, sure, I miss it. But I can’t be bitter because I have so many blessings and so much to look forward to.”
“The announcer thing?” I ask him.
“Yes, that’s a big part of it. I think announcing is going to be really fun. I love talking about hockey and calculating statistics, so I think it’s the next-best thing to actually being on the ice. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about it sooner, but it was kind of a last-minute decision when I heard that Boomer is retiring.”
I stare down at my black leggings. “It’s okay. You don’t owe me a heads-up.”
“But I do,” he immediately counters. Reaching out to gently turn my chin toward him, he murmurs, “Look at me, Caro.”
I obey, smiling at the nickname I already love.
“I want us to be together. Always.”
Tears well in my eyes at his dreamy words. “I want that, too.”
“Good, then it’s settled.” He says with finality. He bobs his head once, then asks me, “Are you ready for your surprise?”
I clap my hands together, unable to contain my excitement as I say, “I love surprises!”
He’s beaming a wide smile at me when he reaches down to lift up a pristine pair of white ice skates.
Despite my best efforts to the contrary, I fear my disappointment in the gift is obvious when I say, “Oh, wow. Thank you. I’ve never ice skated before.”
“Then it’s high time you start,” Brock says firmly, leaving no room for doubt.
“They fit perfectly,” I admit as I pull the laces tight and tie them.
When he stands and holds a hand out to help me up, I take a deep breath and move to join him. Unfortunately, I know before we even start that I’m not going to be good at ice skating. The one time I went roller skating was an absolute disaster where my friends zoomed around the rink, while I flailed and fell down multiple times doing one loop of the rink before giving up and going home. My attempts to learn to ride a bike and snow ski were even less successful than that.
Deciding I better warn him I say, “I tend not to be very good at anything that requires balance.”
He holds my hand as he leads me out to the ice. In a reassuring voice he says, “You’ll be fine. I’m right here, and I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you.”
I’ve always hated doing anything that I’m not naturally proficient in, but Brock’s calm confidence makes me brave. He skates backwards and holds both of my hands to steady me. I’m shaky and my ankles wobble, but I do manage to make an unsteady loop of the rink with Brock’s firm guidance.
“I’m doing it!” I squeal, beyond excited.
“You sure are!” Brock’s voice is filled with pride.
Just as I’m beaming up at him over my new talent, my feet disappear from beneath me and my butt crashes down on the ice before I even realize what is happening.
Brock joins me on the ice. As soon as he makes sure I’m okay, we both laugh together about my short-lived win.
He leans in to brush his warm lips across mine before saying, “I guess you can’t be perfect at everything.”
“It may take me a while, but I will conquer this,” I say with determination edging my voice.
