Page 29 of Desperate Pucker
She offers a sad smile. “I know, but you do a lot for us. You bought me and Nick brand new cars when we graduated high school.”
I let a smile break free. “Because you spent your childhood in hockey rinks supporting me. It’s a fair trade-off.”
I climb out of the car and help her out. As soon as we’re inside, I flip on the lights and lead her to the couch. She flops on her side and closes her eyes.
I grab a big glass of water and aspirin and bring them to her. I help her sit up and make her take both.
Her eyes are half open when she looks at me. “Do you have Coke? I’m craving one really, really bad.”
I walk over to the fridge, grab her a can, and crack it open. When I hand it to her, she guzzles half of it before setting it on the coffee table and lying back down on the couch.
When I look at the can, I can’t help but think of Maddy.
I grab an empty trash can from the hallway bathroom and set it next to her, in case she has to puke again. I cover her with a blanket and head to bed, wondering if Maddy ended up liking the drinks I got for her.
Chapter 12
Maddy
“I’ve seen quite an improvement in Camden’s skating ever since he started working with you,” Coach Porter says.
I smile as I sit in his office. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“He’s way faster on the ice. The players on the opposing team can barely keep up with him,” Coach Porter says. “I’m eager to see what you can do for Ryker once you start working with him too.”
Just hearing Ryker’s name makes my tummy dip. I think back to the other night at Spanky’s, at how…nice he was to me when he found out that my fiancé had cheated on me.
How he trashed him for being critical of my weight. How he made me try Coca-Cola for the first time. How good it tasted.
How, for the briefest moment, we didn’t feel like enemies. We felt like friends. And it felt really, really good.
My skin tingles when I think back to how he ran his gaze over my body after I told him the things my ex said…and how much I liked it.
I was curious if that moment of friendliness was a one-off or maybe the start of something different between us. But when Iwalked back to our table, he was gone. I was surprised at how disappointed I felt that he’d left.
I focus back on my meeting with Coach Porter.
“I think after one more week of rest, Ryker will be ready for me to train him,” I say.
Coach Porter nods once. “Good. I know he probably gave you a hard time about making him rest for so long, but I think you made the right call. At his age, he can’t be rushing his recovery.”
“I’m glad you agree.”
“You’re the skating expert. You clearly know what you’re doing. I’ll always look to you for guidance on this.”
There’s a tiny burst of pride inside of me at what Coach Porter has said. No one’s ever taken my advice seriously—or even asked for it. As a figure skater, I’ve always been the one to receive advice and criticism from coaches, judges, commentators, and fans. It feels good to be the one that people come to for a change.
“A bunch of the guys on the team want to train with you,” Coach Porter says. “I know your main focus is designing a plan for Ryker’s recovery, but I’d like to you to make time to work with them as well.”
That burst of pride grows. “I would love that.”
“I’ll send you their contact info so you can start setting up sessions.”
The meeting ends, and I head out of his office down the hall to where my office is.
I sit at my desk and get to work reaching out to the guys on the team. For the rest of the day, I compile info on their past injuries and watch footage of how they play, so I can come up with the best training plans for each of them.
Before I know it, it’s almost six in the evening. I was so engrossed in my work that I lost track of time. I smile, loving the feeling of being so focused on my work. It reminds me of when Ifirst started figure skating. I’d spend hours at the rink, practicing my spins and jumps.
