Page 33 of Ice Me Baby

I bristle at his use of the nickname. I’ve always hated when guys called me princess, as if I need someone to take care of me or to pander after. “I’m not a princess.”

He kneels in front of me with a box of medical wraps, giving me a look that says ‘are you sure about that?’. He picks out the purple wrap and says, “That’s the only thing you took away from that sentence? The name princess?”

“I hate when people, men especially, call me princess. It’s like you're using a derogatory term.” I huff.

He rolls up my pant leg and begins to stabilize my ankle with K Tape. “Wait, how is princess a derogatory term?”

I’m quiet for a moment, taking in the normally grumpy man who is kneeling before me. Not only that, but he’s taking care of me. Did I make that much of an impression on him that it made him like me, and now he no longer feels the need to hide behindhis mask of anger? Though, now I’m curious as to why he’s so angry and how Mac, the gentle giant, and he became friends.

I must be quiet for too long because Lewi’s fingers pause on my ankle, and he looks up at me with a questioning look. “Liz?”

Shaking myself, I answer his original question. “When guys call me princess, they are usually trying to get into my pants. They think I’m weak and can’t take care of myself.” I lower my voice as I try to impersonate a guy, “Don’t worry,princess, I’ll take care of you.”

He hums but continues his task. He has clearly done this before because he does it like a professional. “I can see that. But I don’t mean it in that way.” Adding one last strip, he lightly squeezes my ankle. When he stands up, he gives me a lopsided grin and says, “You’re the princess of the ice. The queen actually. You’re strong and independent, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

He reaches out, brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear as he softly says, “But it wouldn’t hurt to let someone take care of you for a change. Letting people help and take care of you doesn’t make you weak.”

I huff out a sigh. “I’ve had to rely on only myself for so long; I don’t know how to let anyone help.”

He boops me on the nose before bending to pick up the box. “Well, it’s a good thing you’ve got us then.”

“Us?” I ask as he walks over to his bed to put away his supplies. After, he turns to face me.

“The guys and I are a team, and now you are a part of that team. We take care of each other. We’re not joking when we say you are our girl.” Lewi shrugs as if that should be obvious.

I shiver at his use of ‘ourgirl’. The way he says it makes me think he means I’m his and Mac’s girl, but he’s using it as a term of belonging among the guys on the team. Even though I’m ignoring the pull toward him and Mac, I can’t quite denythe butterflies that flutter around my stomach anytime I’m near them. The thought of belonging to the two of them, being theirs, would probably be the best mistake I ever made.

Lewi interrupts my spiraling thoughts when he moves toward the door. He stops, looking over his shoulder as he says, “You’re part of the family now, Lizzy. Once you’re in, you’re stuck for life”—he turns away, rapping his knuckles against the doorframe—even when you try your hardest to fight it.”

Before I can reply, he’s out the door. What did he mean by that? I stare out the door, trying to figure out the enigma that is Dean Lewis. He has a story, and I want to read it. I want to learn as much as I can about him and Mac, even the others. Because I’m starting to realize that he’s right; they’ve adopted me into their family. I need to learn to rely on them, no matter what. Because they’ll take care of me whether or not I like it.

Right now… that doesn’t sound too bad. My mind drifts back to last night when I found the note, and heavy hands pounded on my door. My fingers tighten in the blankets before I push my stalker from my thoughts and jump off the bed to change for the day. Thankfully, this room has a small en-suite bathroom, so I grab my clothes before heading to the shower.

I still need to wash yesterday off me. Maybe my disturbing feelings will wash down the drain as well. Once the water is warm, I hop in. As I stand under the shower head, I let the water cascade over my skin, and I slowly begin to relax. I look for body wash and find both Dean and Mac’s.

Biting my lip, I debate if I should use their soap, before huffing out a sigh. I grab one and open the cap to sniff. I hum at the smell of winter and pull it away to read what scent it is. It’s a combination of pine and peppermint. It must be Mac’s.

I put it back to pick up what I assume is Dean’s. I do the same thing and find that his smells like a warm summer night. A combination of earth and campfire smoke. I debate betweenthe two bottles and then sniff them together. It’s an odd combination, but it smells good because it reminds me of them.

Having made my decision, I wash using with both, so I’ll be surrounded by their scent all day. As I rinse off the last of the suds, I feel my mind calm and my muscles relax. I like the smell of them on my skin.

So far, I’ve done a horrible job of distancing myself from the pair, but I’m not sure how to pull away when they make me feel so… safe. Shaking my head, I turn off the water and get ready for the day. Just because I feel safe with them doesn’t mean I want to jump into a relationship with them. We can just be friends. There aren’t any rules against the staff being friends with the players.

I slide into a pair of dark-wash jeans and a pale, baby-blue blouse. I have paperwork to finish, so I’ll be in my office and don’t need to dress in my normal uniform of khakis and a team polo. I’m glad they don’t require us to wear anything super professional because I hate dresses and skirts.

Putting on the bare minimum make-up, I give myself a nod in the mirror. Time to get this long day started.

Chapter Thirteen

With a long, tired groan, I bang my head against the desk again. I love my job, but I hate paperwork. I also hate having to work on the weekend. Why did they have us come in again? It’s Sunday; I should be chilling on the couch reading or watching TV.

Exhaling a heavy sigh, I look at the stack of paperwork I still need to get through. The team held a voluntary practice, and the guys decided to go, but it mainly consisted of the guys who live in the common houses. The players with families usually wait until mandatory practices are held. I keep hoping one of the guys will randomly bust through my door. I never thought I’d wish for them to distract me from work, but I offered to come along because there’s always paperwork to do. Routine logs of the players are normal but mine? I’m extremely detailed and efficient, which is great when you are in charge of ten men, so you don’t forget things. Downside? There is paperwork for ten men. Which isa lotof paperwork.

I’ve ensured my boys are in top shape for the start of preseason. My notes are so detailed that I can pinpoint if therehave been any changes in how they navigate both on and off the ice. That also means I need to keep my notes organized in a way that makes them easy to find. Why must I girl boss so hard?

I put in my ear buds with the hope that it will help me get through the daunting task of organizing my horde of notes. Clicking the Spotify app, I let it shuffle through my main playlist.

The first song to play is What was I made for by Billie Eilish. I remember hearing this song for the first time. It reminds me of the day a shattered ankle destroyed my dreams. I had put every piece of myself into skating for so long, I didn’t know what else I could do. It’s hard to think of the future when your soul withers away alongside your dreams. When you watch everything you worked so hard for go up in smoke.

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