Page 67 of Lucky Shot
“It might help.”
“All I need is a hot shower and to not move for twelve hours.”
“All right.” I chuckle.
She lets out a groan as she attempts to bend down to untie her skates.
“Never mind. I’m never leaving this bench. Got any pillows around here?”
“I have some sweaty pads that might do the trick.”
She wrinkles up her nose.
I reach down and wrap my fingers around her ankle. “May I?”
She nods and I lift her leg up onto my thigh to take off her skates. I’ve done this dozens of times for Aidan and the kids at camp, but the intimacy of it hits me too late.
“How’s the book coming?” I ask as my fingers work at the laces, untying and then loosening them.
“I finished the first chapter,” she says in a cheery tone but grimacing.
“Isn’t that good?”
“I was hoping to be further along by now.”
“Ah.”
“I will figure it out,” she announces with a sigh. “I have to.”
“Anything I can help with?”
“No. Well, actually, this helped, I think. Getting out of my head, experiencing a little of what it’s like for you—minus all the falling of course.”
“Of course.” I smile back at her. “And I’m glad it helped.”
“What’s the equivalent of writer’s block for a hockey player?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe a scoring slump?”
“What do you do when that happens?”
“Take more shots, try not to let it get in my head too much.”
“More shots, huh?”
“What do you usually do?”
“Binge-watch reality TV and eat ice cream.” Her lips twist into a shy smile.
“That works?”
She thinks for a moment, gaze flicking up. I take the time to study her. Her blue eyes framed with long, black lashes, and thecold of the rink has her cheeks a bright pink. The gold four-leaf clover necklace she’s always wearing catches the lights.
“No, I guess it doesn’t really work except for eventually I get so disgusted with myself I finally force the words.”
“So writing gets you unstuck.”
“Take more shots,” she mutters as she repeats my words.
