Page 38 of Twisted Collide

JOSIE

Today ismy first day working with theplayers.

Sure, I’ve been working for the team for the past month, but since there’s been no official practice, my sperm donor thought it would be a good idea for me to rotate positions within the organization. That way, I could experience different jobs, and when my internship ended, I’d have a better grasp of what I wanted to do with my life.

The mailroom was fun. Accounting, not so much. Now, I’m working at the practice facility in a floater position until the season starts in three weeks.

Things are about to get real.

I’m going to see Dane again.

Something will go wrong.It always does.

Whenever I start something new, it’s usually awful. I’ve never gotten lucky enough to have things go right. All of my life, I’ve been destined for first-day failure.

Like when I started high school. I wore two different shoesto school, and if that wasn’t bad enough, my shirt was inside out. Double oops.

Then there was the time I started college and fell flat on my face in the middle of campus.

Of course, a group of hot frat boys were all watching. While I was mortified, I wouldn’t let them know, so instead, I stood, back straight, and bowed.

It was legendary.

So today, while I know I’m destined for something awful to happen, the plan is to wear the embarrassment with pride.

I take a step inside the practice facility, and I’m instantly met with the smell of ice. I never realized ice had a scent, but it does. It smells crisp and cool and like Christmas morning.

I don’t know what I was expecting, but certainly not this. Maybe stinky jerseys and sweat—something to make me hate hockey even more.

Eventually, after they play, I'm sure that will linger in the air, but for now, I close my eyes and imagine a big cup of hot cocoa and sigh.

That would be nice right now because this place is freezing despite the warm air outside.

Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s an ice rink, after all.

I wonder what I’ll be made to do today. I was informed by Laurie, the woman who’s technically my boss, that I’ll be doing errands for now, but what does that even mean?

Will I be carrying smelly jerseys around? Or maybe I’ll have to clean the skates.

No, that seems like a job for someone who knows what they’re doing.

“Hey! Coach’s kid,” some player shouts, and I narrow my eyes, trying to see if I can figure out which one called out to me.

When my attempts end up fruitless, a grunt breaks from my lips.

“Over here,” he calls again, waving his hand in the air, and I head toward him.

I lift my brow. “Coach’s kid? Seriously?”

“Wow. That’s a whole lot of attitude for an intern.” He chuckles.

“What can I do for you—”

“Hudson,” he says, cutting me off.Ah, the player.Coach, aka sperm donor, aka Dad, warned me about him.

Placing my hands on my shirt, I push the material down. “Hudson, what can I do for you?”

He eyes me up and down before returning his gaze to my lips. “Got any water?”

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