“Well aware,” Elsie says with a sigh. “I’m trying to get her to teach the clinic in a few weeks.”
Rhodes barks a laugh. “Huh,” he says, side-eyeing me back, then looking toward Elsie. “I don’t think she’s even gotten back on the ice yet. You sure that’s a good idea?”
What the hell is happening right now?
“I’m literally right here,” I grind out. They ignore me.
Elsie ponders for a minute. “You haven’t been on the ice at all, Mo?”
I’m silent. “No.”
She grunts and turns back to Rhodes. “Get her back on the ice,” she says to him flatly. To me, “You’re teaching the clinic or you don’t have a job here anymore.”
“What the fu—” My voice raises, but I’m cut off by her hand flying up to stop me in my tracks.
“You were told to do any job I required of you at the rink,” she snaps. “I require this. Get out. Go finish your work for the morning.” I let out an exasperated sigh. “You have eight weeks to figure it out.”
“Rhodes.” She turns away from me again, to the hockey player to my left. “You still good to teach the clinic?”
“Yeah, no problem, Els.” To me he says, with a grin playing around his mouth, “Looks like we’ll be partners.”
“Can’t wait,” I mutter through gritted teeth. I stand and turn on my heel, stomping out of the office. I am not surprised to hear footsteps behind me. He simply doesn’t know when to fuckinglet up.
I swing around, nearly causing him to trip over me, and I stab my finger into his chest. “Stop following me.”
“I’m not, Jesus,” he says, removing my finger. “The locker room is this way.” Rhodes rolls his eyes andsteps past me, then pauses for a moment and walks back.
“You’ve gotta get on the ice before the clinic, Abrams.” He’s not teasing. He is very serious, and it’s a little overwhelming to have all his attention on me at once.
My stomach bottoms out as the memory of the last time I was on the ice hits me. We weren’t even performing yet, it was just a warm-up. Aaron and I were throwing a quad Salchow, and we’d done it dozens of times before. It was an extremely hard lift and nobody else was competing with it. It raised our difficulty level, and if we landed it perfectly? Gold every time.
I felt it the second my rotation came too fast. I knew it was wrong before I even hit the ice. My blade had caught on the edge, my ankle snapped—and it had actually echoed through the rink. The crowd went instantly quiet as I lay there on the ice. I didn’t scream, I didn’t even cry. Aaron had panicked, screaming at people to call an ambulance. Then my coaches were there. The medic. I was placed on a stretcher, the reality of what happened crashing over me in waves.
Injuries like that weren’t supposed to happen to athletes like me.Except it had.
Now, standing here, my lungs tighten, breath shortens. My sweatshirt feels too hot, too heavy. My vision narrows, my pulse hammering against my ribs.
I can’t breathe.
The walls of the hallway press in on me. I suck in a breath, but it’s too shallow. Too fast. The edges of my vision go tight, like I’m watching this happen to someone else, not me.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to stop the panic attack before it can really take hold. Rhodes is still standing in front of me. I don’t have to see him because I canfeelhim.
“You good, Monroe?” he asks softly.
“Leave me alone, Rhodes. I’ll figure it out.” My chest is still too tight. My pulse pounds in my ears. I take a breath. Then another. And another.
“You can keep running from the ice,” he says, and I hate how gentle it is. I like it better when he’s mean. “But it looks like you aren’t getting out of this clinic.”
He checks the time on his phone. “I’m here for the next hour. I’ll skate with you.”
“What part ofleave me alonewasn’t clear to you?” I’m deflecting.
“I’m not the enemy here, Abrams,” he replies. “But I’m not going to force you. Good luck.” I watch him walk away toward the locker room, the pit gnawing at my stomach growing bigger by the second.
I look at the rink, my eyes trailing over the ice.
Fuck, I’m going to have to skate.