Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 113072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
“Let’s see a spin!” I call.
“Yes, Coach! Whatever you say, Coach!” He moves his strong arms into a T position and executes a tight upright spin.
It looks ridiculously good on his powerful body. The fans are going to foam at the mouth if we pull this off in time.
I join him on the ice and we warm up separately. I ease into it, not wanting to strain anything. It takes me longer to activate my body these days than it did when I was eighteen.
“All righty,” Chase says, skating up to me after a while. “Cue ’er up, Coach. Let’s just rip the Band-Aid off and try again.”
“Nope,” I say, working some deep lunges on both legs. “We’re not tackling ‘Wicked Game’ today. I have another plan.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “What? Aren’t we running out of time?”
“Not just yet,” I say. “Let’s work on something else first—help me choreograph the final bow with all the players. I chose some music. We can listen to it while we do some crossovers together.”
“Yeah?” He looks intrigued. “Hit me.”
I skate over to the wall and wake up my phone and my speaker. After hitting play, I skate back to him while the gentle opening of Sia’s “Unstoppable” pours through the speakers.
Chase tilts his head, nodding along at my choice. “I like it,” he says as the song picks up steam. “Power move.”
I nod. “It’s got those winning-team vibes. And the rhythm of the chorus is unmistakable. It basically punches you over the head.”
“Agreed.” His chuckle is warm, and I feel it settle low in my stomach. “Okay, Ice Princess. Show me what you’ve got,” he says, holding out his hand, palm up.
Warmth spreads through me as I slide my fingers into his. His grip is steady, reassuring. For a moment, I just let myself experience the strength in his hand, the glide of my skates on the ice, and the way the music vibrates through the arena.
We ease into a crossover. The strong beat of the chorus kicks in, and before I even realize it, Chase and I are gliding backward in perfect sync, strokes carving clean arcs into the ice.
This. This is what skating is supposed to feel like.
“Hey, check us out!” Chase cackles. “We’re back.”
“Don’t get cocky yet.” I squeeze his hand and nod toward the far end of the rink. “C’mon, camel spins?”
“Sure.”
“You call it,” I offer as we curve toward the straightaway.
“Nah. You’re the boss, Ice Princess. At least when we’re on the ice.”
“All right. Brace yourself.” As the music pounds on, I squeeze his hand. On the next beat, we separate and push off into side-by-side spins. I can’t watch him much, because I’m spinning myself. But I know he’s hit that sweet spot of centrifugal force and balance when he lets out a whoop that echoes through the rink. And we’re in sync again.
Chase is laughing as he slows to a stop. “Not bad,” he says, his confidence undimmed.
“True,” I agree, catching his hand again. “This might work after all.”
We loop the rink again, nice and easy. I call for a change of direction, and we pass each other smoothly and catch hands again. Like we’ve been doing this for years.
Chase’s powerful stride takes us halfway around the rink again at exhilarating speed. “Arabesque sequence?” he suggests, his voice daring.
“Somebody’s ambitious.”
“This is our comeback tour. Call it.”
When I squeeze his hand, we separate and he glides off on one leg, the same way I do. His form is unpolished but full of raw energy.
When the song ends, we come to a stop, both of us smiling. “Okay, Coach. Now what?”
I gesture for him to follow me toward center ice. “So, what can I make those hockey players do? You know them better than I do. How about a kickline?”
Chase shakes his head emphatically. “Too risky. If one goes down, they’ll be like falling dominoes.”
I bite my lip to keep from smiling. “Fair point.”
“You can stick to hockey skills, but it will still look cool if they stay on the beat,” he says. “Like—two lines that cross and recross. And timed hockey stops, where they spray ice toward the crowd.”
“Yes!” I can see it. “Okay. I’m going to start the song again.”
“From the chorus,” he agrees.
I do it, and we fall into an easy rhythm, skating laps around the rink, brainstorming ideas.
And somehow it’s easy again. Just the two of us.
Chapter 41
March
Winter bleeds away. And on an ice rink somewhere outside Vancouver, I watch Chase stumble through one of our snazzier footwork passages. “That was almost it!” I cheer, shutting off the music. “So close!”
He looks less enthused. “This is what you get when you make me skate before I’ve had coffee.”
“Uh-huh. If you’d gotten up earlier, we wouldn’t be in this predicament,” I point out.
Chase gives me a guilty smile, reminding me why he didn’t get out of his hotel bed earlier. Yesterday, I flew out here to watch a junior hockey showcase, joining the team in the middle of their West Coast road trip. As soon as I landed, Chase informed me that veteran players don’t have roommates at the team hotel.