Page 15 of My Best Bet

Breathe. Just fucking breathe, Meredith,I ordered myself.In three, out three, it’s not that hard.

I could not afford to fall apart just because I saw an ex-boyfriend from forever ago. I was a 31-year-old woman, for crying out loud, I needed to get my shit together.

He wasn’t just an ex though,a small voice argued.He was… the love of my fucking life.

I wanted to fall down in a heap and cry for three to five business days. I wanted to–

“Ms. Bennett,” a raspy voice cut into my mental tailspin. I knew who it was from that title alone. Hans had been calling me “Ms. Bennett” since I was a little kid learning to skate in tiny new-to-me Riedell boots back at Centre Ice in Michigan.

I slowly looked up to see Hans’ old frame leaning against a mop. He was the rink manager here, so I knew his job description did not include mopping, but no job was ever too small for him. He moved here to Chicago a few years ago, then hehelped my best friend, Piper, get a job coaching here, and then me. He was a grumpy old man, but he had a heart of gold, and I think he always had a soft spot for me.And for Colt. My poor tattered heart.

He regarded me with a stern look. “You got this,” he said softly, then he pointed with a shaky finger to the other little girls’ mothers. “You got a job to do, Ms. Bennett.”

Blowing out a shaky breath, I nodded at him.

He was right.

I needed to get my ass moving if I was going to be able to stay working here… if I was going to be able to stay in Chicago at all. Then again, maybe I didn’t want to stay here anymore. Maybe this was a sign that I should pack up my shit and hightail it to a different city.

With the heel of my hand, I wiped the corners of my eyes and quickly boxed up all thoughts of Colt and his serious eyes for later.

But when I walked back into the warm lobby, Colt was already talking to the two other mothers.

I couldn’t make out everything they were saying, but I heard murmurings of “trying a new rink.”

And that hurt.

It was one thing to not want me coaching his own daughter, but to take other potential students away from me was just cruel. Not all of us had the luxury of securing million-dollar-contracts from the hard work we put into the rink. Some of us had absolutely nothing to show for our blood, sweat, and tears.

My body shook with rage. I wanted to march up to him and yell at him, put him back in his place, throw the $100 back at his stupid chest and argue that what happened between us wasnotall on me.

But… I was rooted to the spot.

Balling my hands in fists, I tried one more time to build myself up.Go over there, stand up for yourself, Mer.

Colt’s eyes slowly drifted to mine.

He looked expectant, like he was ready for a fight… Like hewanteda fight.

But…

I couldn’t do it.

I just couldn't.

My shoulders deflated.

God. I was pathetic.

Blowing out a shaky breath, I turned on the heel of my blade and quickly marched back to the coaches’ locker room and punched in the key code.

Lockers and benches lined the small room. Only Piper was currently in here, thank God, because I didn’t want to share my big fat loss of a day with anyone else. While it was rare for figure skaters to even talk to each other outside the rink, I’d been lucky enough to make two lifelong friends back at Centre Ice– Piper, an ice dancer, and Ali, a freestyle girl. I think it helped that we never viewed each other as competition because we were focused on different disciplines.

“Any bites?” Piper asked in a hopeful tone while unlacing her skates.

“Doubtful.” I plopped on the wooden bench and leaned back against my locker, not wanting to unlace my skates just yet. My eyes shuddered closed against the memory of Colt’s serious gaze.

How the hell did it still hurt to see him after all these years?

---