Page 40 of My Best Bet

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Hans?”

He fixed his glasses back on his face and picked up the skate he’d been working on.

I raked my hand over my hair, feeling completely exasperated.

My mind sifted back through the memories, back to that last winter we had together. Yeah, we were both struggling with things at the time, but I thought our relationship was solid enough to last through it. The breakup shocked me. And I never got the chance to fight her on it. I hadn't realized how much I still wanted that fight. How much I still needed that.

Hans was staring at me over the skate sharpener now, a small grin on his face. I hated histold-you-soface.

“Doesn't matter. It was a long time ago,” I muttered, trying to save face.

“If it doesn't matter,” he sighed, “then why aren’t you letting her coach your daughter? Because she’s the best coach you’re gonna get and you know it.”

Fuck.He had a point.

“And you made her cry. I didn’t like that.” He shook his head at me. “Not at all.”

He was rubbing it in. My chest felt like it was about to explode.

“Yeah, well, what do you want me to do about it?”

He fixed me with a dark look. “You know what you should do.”

Yeah, I knew what I should do, but I wasn’t ready to do it just yet. Heaving a deep sigh, I turned and stalked out of the pro-shop.

I went straight up the stairs to the workout room.

I needed to rid my body of this frustration, and the only way I knew how to do that was by working out.

For the next hour, I punished my body, working as hard as I could, trying to clear my head.

The only problem was that as the frustration left my body, it was quickly replaced by regret.

Because I broke another promise to her: I made her cry.

Balling my fists, I tried to reign in my emotions. I didn’t owe her anything anymore, so I'm not sure why I still cared so much.

But Hans’ voice echoed in my head–I think you have some things wrong, son.

What the hell was he playing at?

All I knew was that if I didn’t find out, I’d never be over her.

Before I could overthink it, I marched down to the front office on shaky legs and signed my daughter back up for lessons with Meredith.

My hand trembled as I penned Lucy’s name in for a 4:30pm lesson, then I shot off texts to the mothers of Charlotte and Sophia telling them that Mer was a solid coach and that we should give her another try. They’d probably think I was insane, but I didn’t give a shit.

8.Colt - Sweet Seventeen – 14 years ago – winter

I ran on autopilot through practice because my mind was so focused on the surprise we had planned for tonight. As soon as Coach blew his whistle three times to dismiss us, I practically ran off the ice to undress and shower.

While Coach rattled on about what we needed to work on, I packed up my hockey bag in record time, then hightailed it to the other side of the rink to catch the tail end of her practice.

Dumping my bag on the ground, I leaned on the railing and spotted her immediately.

Her smile was always so reserved and mechanical out there, almost like she was a royal in another life and she was too proper to fully exhibit her emotions. When she was with me, I always took it as a challenge to make her smile so big her face cracked. I secretly loved that her carefree smile reserved for me– well, for us, because Kappy and JP always got her laughing too.

She nodded at her coach, then skated off, her posture perfect. Her brown hair was parted at the side and smoothed into a low, tight bun. Wearing a stretchy top that could pass as a sports bra and off-black tights with little black shorts over top, her small muscles looked so powerful as she set up and then launched into another triple jump. Landing like a stealthy cat, she held the check-out before gliding back to the boards.

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