Page 50 of Cold As Ice

“Relax, old man. I’m only going to do a few laps.”

The Lakers facility had been my home for the last three and a half years. I knew this place better than the house I’d grown up in.

The ice was solid under my skates as I hopped through the gate. I’d worked out consistently over winter break; it wasn’t like I had much else to do. But this was different.

Skating required everything from you: strength, endurance, flexibility, and power. It was a complete mind and body workout, pushing you to your limits and testing your resolve. But I’d been skating since I was a kid. It was muscle memory now—as easy as breathing.

I closed my eyes and took a leisurely lap of the rink, breathing in the crisp, clean air.

Out here, during practice or a game or even just right now, alone on the ice, everything stopped. To skate your best, you had to empty your mind and focus on every glide, every breath, and every turn.

After a couple of days’ laps, I picked up speed. Pumping my legs hard, I flew around the rink. It wasn’t enough, though. I needed more. So, I added in some turns, zig-zagging from one side of the rink to the other.

Being a goalie, I had to have excellent game awareness, a strong gloved hand, and impeccable puck-handling ability. But what a lot of people didn’t realize was that skating was key for my position.

I had to be able to move quickly in all directions; I had to react and recover, to make abrupt, balanced transitions from one move to another, all while being ready to make the save… wearing fifty pounds of protective gear.

But I thrived on the pressure. On knowing that it was my responsibility to keep the opponent’s puck out of the back of the net.

Coach Tucker constantly told us not to bring our personal lives onto the ice, and I was an expert at compartmentalizing.

Not today, though.

I couldn’t get Madison out of my head. I couldn’t stop thinking how the initial shock and betrayal I felt at discovering her secret had quickly morphed into something else.

Something that felt a lot like disappointment.

But that was only because it had cut short our little arrangement, right?

It should have been a blessing in disguise. I knew the truth now, and I could stay far, far away from her.

I hadn’t replied to her apology text. What was there to say?

But I wasn’t doing a very good job of forgetting her either.

I didn’t like it.

Having my thoughts consumed by piercing blue eyes and a gorgeous smile.

I thought coming to the facility, getting out on the ice and skating my ass off would clear my head, let me refocus on what was important. But as I whipped around the rink, pushing myself to the limit, the frustration only intensified.

Which only made everything ten times worse. Because if I couldn’t forget about her. If I couldn’t get Madison out of my mind, then I wouldn’t be able to play our first game back with a clear head.

Maybe I needed some closure—a face-to-face conversation.

Or another thought hit me out of left field.

Maybe we could just be friends.

* * *

It wasn’t difficult to track down the bar that Madison worked at. Olin Bay was a small town and she’d mentioned she worked at a local bar.

Probably not my best idea ever, turning up at her place of work unannounced. But after three days of radio silence, I had to see her, and I wasn’t sure she’d welcome my offer to meet.

So here I was, like some creep, stalking her at work.

Jesus, I really had stooped to a new low. But I was a Laker, a hockey player who wanted to win. And winning didn’t come without the kind of single-mindedness and dogged determination that flowed through my veins.

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