Page 73 of Pucked Up Plans
As soon as we enter the rink, my mood automatically changes, the stress of the week melting away. It’s why I always push through whatever I’m feeling and don’t give up the time on the ice. The rink’s always been a sense of peace for me, a haven. Even during grueling practices and games, there’s no better feeling than gliding across the ice. In the rundown rink of my childhood, it’s like coming home. I’ve left much of my blood, sweat, and tears on the ice, and I don’t foresee that changing anytime soon.
The unique smell of ice invigorates every one of my senses. The crisp, cool air carries a slightly musty aroma stemming from the accumulated moisture and dampness. I could do without the weak odor of sweat and body heat as the scent of exertion mixes with the frozen air, but it comes with the territory.
It takes five minutes to get Lennon’s skates on before she’s ready to go. I don’t put mine on right away, admiring how she enjoys it all, moving from one end of the rink to the other. With the ice all to herself, she relishes the space.
I snap some pictures and videos as she passes me, a huge smile on her face, laughing at whatever is going on in her head.
I could lace up my skates in my sleep, but I take my time, letting Lennon appreciate her calm. As much as I’m going to miss hockey after I’m done playing, I won’t hang up my skates as long as she loves it. Hell, even if she gives it up, I’ll find a way to be involved with the sport.
Like the clinic next weekend. Kenny sought me out specifically, and I was happy to volunteer.
As if the universe is trying to tell me something, my phone rings, KENNY displayed on the screen.
My eyes on Lennon, I answer the phone. “Hey, Kenny.”
“Walsh. Got a minute?”
Lennon’s in her glory, occupied and enchanted by the ice. “Yep.” Hopefully, he misses the hesitation in my tone.
“Unfortunately, we had to rearrange a few things at the rink next weekend, including the timing of the clinic. We have to push it to four. Does that still work?”
The earlier timing was perfect since Lennon would still be with Megan, but now I’ll have to see who’s available to babysit. I hate always asking Mom and Dad, assuming they’re free and want to keep her.
“That should work. I just have to make sure I have a sitter for Lennon, but it shouldn’t be too much of a problem,” I confirm, not wanting to let him down or not be able to attend.
“My oldest is home from college for the holiday and would love to hang with her.”
Possible crisis averted.
I’m fortunate Lennon’s so easygoing that she gets along with anyone, even new people. And it’s not like I wouldn’t be there if any issues arise. The incentive to sit in the stands at the university rink would probably be enough of an enticement to keep her entertained.
“Sounds good. We’ll come around 3:30 Saturday. She’ll be excited.”
“My daughter too. See you then. Bye.”
The phone disconnects in my ear as Lennon comes off the ice for a break. She chugs water from her thermos before appraising me. “You got snacks? All those laps are making me hungry.”
“I thought it was your turn to pack the snacks.” She narrows her eyes at me, eerily resembling her mother. From a five-year-old, it’s not as daunting as from my ex.
“I didn’t. Because I’m not the adult.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” I mutter, digging into my bag for an apple squeezie. Her entire body vibrates at the sight of it. “Will this do?” I ask, in case her actions don’t convey her genuine excitement.
“Oh yes. I was really hoping for this.”
I smile, wondering if that’s remotely true or not. Either way, it satisfies her, giving her just enough energy to power through the rest of our session on the ice.
Abandoning my phone, I join my daughter on the slippery surface, wondering how I ever got so fortunate for a kid who loved skating almost more than I do.
CHAPTER 18
TATE
My dreams revolve around Walsh.
Being alone with him.
Cuddling him.
