Page 72 of Lost on Ice
JAKE
Gliding across the ice,I let out a little sigh. This is good. Relaxing. Skating is as easy to me as walking at this point in my life. Hanging out at the Ivy Glen rink has become a habit of mine since I’ve been here. It’s a good place to go and chill with Carter and Tom, and Jordan and his friends love having me around to watch them as they practice their hockey skills.
“So, what’s going on with you and Abbie?”
I glance over at Tom, who’s leaning against the outside of the rink, watching us. Carter and I are idly skating back and forth, the three of us keeping an eye on Jordan, Theo, and Bohdi, who are racing each other on the other side of the ice. We’re having a bit of a guys’ day because all the women, Abbie included, are attending Sophie’s baby shower.
I move closer to Tom before answering, “I took her to see my mom and Kevin yesterday and she ripped into them about how they treat me and it was actually really hot, so I’d say things between us are pretty solid.”
Carter furrows his brow. “So, is it different from the last time you two were hooking up? Because we all know how that ended.”
Shooting him a glare, I feel immediately defensive of my relationship. “We aren’t putting a label on it, but it’s different this time. I don’t know how to really explain it, but it is.”
“I mean, I suppose it has to be different if you’re taking her home to your mom and stepdad.” Carter skates a backward figure-eight. “Really a rough experience though, huh?”
“Yeah,” I grumble, spinning in a slow circle. “I mean, it was a typical time in the Williams’ house for me. Mom and Kevin not giving a shit about me, praising the other kids, blah, blah, blah.”
Carter slides to a stop and frowns. “It must have been awful for Abbie to snap at them like she did. I didn’t realize things with your family were that bad. I knew things were rough, but I guess we don’t really talk about your family much.”
I shrug. “It’s whatever, dude. They’re assholes… nothing I can do about it.”
Carter skates closer to me and grabs my shoulder. I arch my brow at him.
“Hey, I understand what you’re going through. I didn’t exactly grow up with the Cleavers, after all.”
That’s an understatement. As bad as Kevin is, he never committed major fraud, robbing the town, then went on the run only to reappear to try and fuck up my entire life like Carter’s dad did. If anyone could sympathize with having a shitty parent, it’s Carter.
“I’ve got your back, man,” he continues, his words completely sincere. “You don’t have to keep anything hidden from me.”
Oddly enough, I’m really touched by his words.
“Uh, thanks,” I murmur. “I really appreciate that.”
He smiles and pats me a little awkwardly.
Suddenly, Jordan skates to a stop, ice spraying from the edge of his blade.
“Watch this!” he shouts, breathless with excitement. His cheeks are flushed red from the cold, his hair damp under his helmet. Theo and Bohdi, flanking him on either side like they’ve done this a hundred times, exchange a quick grin before the three of them take off.
They glide into formation with the kind of ease that only comes from hours of repetition. Jordan controls the puck with swift, confident flicks of his stick, weaving through a line of cones they’ve set up. Theo mirrors his pace just behind him, ready for the pass. Bohdi holds back for defense, crouched low, his stick sweeping side to side like a pendulum.
Jordan fakes left, spins right, and fires the puck across the ice. Theo catches it cleanly without breaking stride, then slams a slapshot into the boards, sending an echo ricocheting through the empty rink.
“Let’s go again!” Bohdi calls out, already chasing down the puck. This time, they switch positions. It’s messy in places - Theo stumbles a little on a tight turn, and Jordan loses the puck for half a second - but their energy is relentless and electric. They shout encouragement and give each other quick stick taps after every good play, their laughter cutting through the air.
I watch them, arms folded, eyebrows raised. For a bunch of kids, they’re pretty damn impressive. The teamwork, the instinct, the hunger - they’ve all got that natural talent and drive that could potentially take them far with this game.
“Ooh, look at those boys go,” a gruff voice declares behind us.
Tom, Carter, and I turn to see Benson walking toward the wall of the rink that Tom’s still leaning against. He’s not alone, though. A tiny woman with a lithe, athletic figure is with him. She gazes around with forest green, almond-shaped eyes that don’t seem to miss a single detail of her surroundings. She’s dressed in tight athletic pants and a purple pullover, her honey blonde hair pulled into a neat bun on top of her head.
Carter and I skate over to the wall.
“Fellas, let me introduce you to my granddaughter, Evie,” Benson says with a wide smile, his eyes shining with pride as he looks at her. “She’s the grandchild I actually like.”
Evie grins up at him and shakes her head. “I told you that you can’t say that kind of stuff, Gramps.”
He shrugs. “Who cares? I’m old and your cousins are all assholes.”
