Boyfriend Bargain - Ilsa Madden-Mills Page 0,74

knee injury.

She watches as I take off. Getting in the zone, I bend low and put my shoulders forward as I skate from one end of the rink to the other, gaining momentum. My legs move effortlessly across the slickness, and the cold air in my face, the flash of the glass as I fly past…it makes me high. Being on the ice has never felt like work. It’s a religion and I was born to play. I pick up my speed, gliding faster until I’m flashing by her, taking in her parted lips.

There’s no doubt, I have everything it takes physically to be the top player in the country. My oneness with the ice, my sixth sense about players, and my shooting game are stellar.

A twinge of darkness tugs at me.

It’s my mental side that might be the end of me.

I shove that down deep and skate over to where she is, shooting up small bits of ice.

I jerk to a stop a few inches in front of her and almost impulsively, she jumps out at me, flailing a little in her skates, and throws her arms around me.

Her arms tighten around my neck, and at first I laugh, thinking maybe I scared her, but then she crawls in closer and her face is resting on my neck as she clings. We stand on the ice, holding each other, and I tighten my arms around her waist.

“Sugar?”

She inhales a deep breath, refusing to let me go, and when I attempt to separate us to look at her, she won’t let me. I stroke her hair, my gut telling me something isn’t right; the funny girl with a smart mouth that I’ve come to know would have spoken up by now.

“What’s wrong?”

Her hands tangle in my hair, and I think I hear a small sniff.

“Hey, I’m here. Just talk to me.”

Her arms tighten around me.

“Did something happen? Is this about Bennett?” Fuck, the thought of him makes my blood pressure skyrocket, but… “Should I have let him talk to you?”

She shakes her head.

I close my eyes in relief and play with her long hair, rubbing my hand up onto her scalp and massaging. “Then what? Can’t you tell me?”

Her nose buries in my shirt. “My dad is dead. I found out Friday.”

Shit. And I didn’t even call her. I wanted to, but part of me was frightened by how badly I wanted to see her again, right then. But my hockey game is shit right now and I have to focus. Plus, I’m not sure where all this emotion for her is coming from, and I’m just trying to figure us out. I have baggage, and shit, I don’t know if I’m ready to show someone the true me.

“I’m so sorry.” I’m at a loss, but I react on instinct. I pick her up in my arms and skate off the rink, removing her skates and mine without speaking. I keep giving her little looks as she wipes her face, but I mostly stare down at our laces, feeling that she needs a minute. Once those are off, I pull her back into my arms as we sit on the carpeted floor in the hallway that leads to the offices and locker rooms. I lean against the wall and place her in my lap, straddling me.

She inhales a shaking breath and bites her lip. “I guess…I didn’t even know it bothered me that much, and then you were skating…so beautiful…and your dad taught you that, and I never…” She looks up at the ceiling of the arena.

She clenches her fists and unclenches them, vulnerability on her face. “You’d think I wouldn’t care that he’s dead, but I do. I’m sad. I’m sad for everything I never had.” She blinks rapidly, trying to stop the stream of tears, and I tell her I don’t care, to let it all out, and she nods.

My thumbs wipe at her cheeks. “I’m sorry you went through that. If I had known—”

She puts a hand to my lips. “No, don’t apologize for him or for you not knowing. I haven’t even told Taylor and Poppy. I’m still figuring out what to do.”

“I’m here.” I lace our hands together and we stare at each other. It’s so quiet in the arena and I feel close to her, so close because she’s sharing this with me.

She shakes her head and looks away as if gathering her thoughts, but I read her face, taking in the downturned lips,