Rhodes is leaning back on his palms, smirking. The sweatshirt he peeled off my body is sitting in his lap. “Welcome back.” He nods. I let out a heavy exhale. “You weresoclose,” he says. “But you still gotta finish the lap.”
I snap my eyes to him. He can’t be serious.
“What the hell, Rhodes?” I say, incredulous. “I skated. I got on the ice. I had a pa—” I don’t finish the words, just gesture to the space around me, letting him fill in the gap for himself.
“You did. Good job on the half lap. But that wasn’t the deal.” He shrugs. It’s infuriating. “The deal was that you finish the lap, no exceptions, or I call Elsie and trade you in for Natalie.”
“I did the lap, you dick!”
He just shakes his head, pushing himself up to stand, dusting ice off his hands.
“Nope. You got,” he tracks the rest of the rink with his eyes, “three-fourths of the way done, maybe.”
He holds his hand out to help me back up. I groan loudly and take it reluctantly, shifting my weight back onto my blades. His fingers fold around mine, dwarfing my hand. I never noticed just how big his hands were before.
I stare at our fingers for a moment before pulling mine away. His lips twitch with amusement.
He’s still holding my sweatshirt, so I yank it back, pulling it on. The glare I level at Rhodes is lethal, but he isn’t even fazed. He just stands there on the ice, arms crossed, an infuriating grin on his face.
I push off my skates, determination seeping through my body, andwhooshforward. “Here’s the rest of your lap, McKnight,” I snarl at him, flipping him off with both hands.
He barks a laugh and slow claps. “There she is.” He tracks my movement as I skate past him, completing my loop.
“Asshole,” I seethe. When I get to the doorway, I stomp off the ice.
I ignore Rhodes as I rip my skates off, shove them in my bag, and continue my temper tantrum all the way to my car.
I’m pissed at him for pushing me tonight. I’m pissed at Elsie for forcing me into the clinic. I’m pissed at my life just in general.
But I have to admit, a tiny part of me is relishing the feeling of having been back on the ice, panic attack aside—like the part of me that’s been missing for the last year might not be gone forever. Like maybe I could get part of that girl back.
Chapter Ten
Rhodes
It was exhilarating watching her skate, and devastating watching her spiral. She still moved like her blades were an extension of her body. Her injury had wrecked her confidence, and maybe her difficulty level, but she didn’t have to give up on skating for the rest of her life.
I had mulled over the skating victory in my head for the last week. After she’d stomped off, leaving me alone on the ice, I’d gone home tired, but feeling hopeful for the first time in months. Not for me or all my shit, that was all still kind of a nightmare, but…for her.
Monroe got back on the ice like a badass.
I knew I had been tough on her there at the end, and I knew it had had the possibility of backfiring, especially after the panic attack. I had toed the line of understanding and asshole really closely. She’d beenabsolutelypissed when she left. I don’t really expect anything more than that toward me from her.
But she got on the ice.
I try and fail to stop my grin from spreading in the dark of my bedroom. We hadn’t run into each other over the last few days at the rink, and I’d be lying if I said that didn’t bother me. I was coming to expect her there. Between practices with Coach Abrams, PR meetings with Kelsey, and brainstorming ways to connect the team, I was running on fumes.
And I was running out of time.Fuck.
The playoffs were looming closer, and we were barely on the bubble right now. Thank God my suspension was lifted after our last game and I’m back on the ice.
The games were becoming more crucial to qualifying, and we barely had two months to pull our heads out of our asses. Sixteen teams make it through, and we weren’t even in a wild card spot right now. We barely have time to turn it around, and that window is getting tighter.
My phone buzzes loudly from my nightstand, breaking me out of my thoughts. I flinch, my automatic reaction these days, before flipping it over.
An unknown number flashes across the screen at me. I squint my eyes to read the message.
Unknown (9:43pm):Can you skate right now?