Page 45 of Your Pucking Mom

“Thank you, Mom. Aunt Emma and I will meet you in the car. I’ll have her pull it around to the back entrance for you so you don’t have to walk far.”

I waved and headed back to the arena. He assured me it would be empty and the cleaners would be inside.

As I made my way down the long, dimly lit hallway, the echoes of our celebratory cheers faded into the distance. The corridor, once bustling with fans, was deserted, save for the occasional staff tidying up the remnants of the game.

Pushing open the door leading to the rink, I was met with an eerie sight. The once-vibrant arena, alive with the energy of cheering spectators, was silent and empty. The only sounds were the soft hum of the cleaning machines echoing off the empty seats.

The stark contrast between the frenetic energy of the game and the tranquil stillness that enveloped the arena was surreal. The air seemed charged with the lingering excitement of the game, yet tinged with a sense of calmness as the night settled in.

Navigating my way around the rows of vacant seats, I skirted the edge of the ice, making my way toward the penalty box. In front of me was a close-up of the empty rink bathed in the soft glow of the lights.

As I approached the penalty box, my eyes caught sight of the jersey sitting atop the bench. I had to walk along the ice to get it, but if I held the side, I’d be okay in my shoes. As I reached out to grab it, a movement on the ice caught my attention.

There, gliding across the smooth surface of the rink, was a lone figure in a Ravens jersey. My heart skipped a beat. Ledger was out on the ice, lost in his own world.

I stood frozen, watching him move with effortless grace, his strides fluid and purposeful. The dim light cast a soft glow on his figure, accentuating the contours of his physique as he weaved through the empty arena.

It was a mesmerizing sight, seeing him in his element, completely absorbed in the rhythm of his skating. The echoes of the game still lingered in the air, but here, in this quiet moment, he seemed at peace, alone with his thoughts on the vast expanse of the ice.

As if he sensed my presence, he slid to a stop, his gaze sweeping across the empty stands until it landed on me. There was a moment of hesitation, a flicker of surprise in his eyes, before a warm smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

With effortless grace, he changed direction, gliding toward me with a fluidity that seemed almost otherworldly. Each movement was deliberate, every stride purposeful, as if he were dancing on the ice for me.

As he drew closer, a rush of anticipation coursed through me, and my heart pounded.

And then, in the space between us, a serene stillness enveloped us like a gentle embrace. It was as if time itself had slowed to a halt, allowing us to stay in this moment, suspended in the quiet beauty of the empty arena.

When he reached me, he extended his hand in my direction. “What’re you doing here, Sunshine?” His large body boxed me in, stopping me from stepping onto the ice.

“Aren’t you tired of skating? You played the whole game practically.”

His smile widened, showing off his dimple. “It helps me get the adrenaline out,” he said, his voice raspier and thicker than usual, likely from a game of shouting.

“Oh,” I whispered. A part of me wondered if Ledger was a playboy. I was naive when it came to professional hockey, but most of the players were literally just that…players. I watched Austin play when I could, but I was focused on watching him and not understanding positions.

“You don’t have an after-party to go to?” I wasn’t sure why I asked that question, but it flew out of my mouth before I could stop it.

He huffed out a chuckle and leaned over, invading my personal space. “No. The one person I wanted to see just arrived.”

My cheeks flushed before I pushed his chest, making him fumble on his skates a little.

“Come on,” I groaned. “You can’t say stuff like that, Ledger.”

He shook his head. “I saw the way you watched me, Sunshine.”

I shook my head, trying to back up, but was met with a seat. “No,” I insisted. “You were the one staring at me.”

He laughed before pushing off the edge of the rink, then making one quick lap before coming back. “Why are you here?”

“I-I was just grabbing Austin’s jersey. He left it when he was in the penalty box earlier, and I was just?—”

He skated over to the box, retrieving it for me, then skated back and handed it over the railing.

“It’s dangerous to step on the ice without skates,” he warned.

“Okay,” I whispered, taking the shirt before turning to leave. His hand reached out toward mine again.

“Sunshine?” His voice was strained and low.

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