Page 95 of As You Ice It

Bailey:I’d happily help with Liam. I have school, but I’d have some time to stay with him.

Naomi:I can’t leave work or Liam. So, I’m stuck here.

Parker:I have an idea!

Amelia:Why am I not surprised?

Greyson:Parker ideas are the best ideas!

Summer:They’re the best ideas when they’re run by the legal team first.

Parker:Ha ha.

Naomi:What did you have in mind?

Amelia:I can’t wait to hear this.

Greyson:I volunteer to help with whatever you need!

Parker:Sadly, the FHL can’t help this time. But how would you feel about a little help from the guys?

Naomi:If it would get Camden to talk to me, I’ll do anything.

CHAPTER22

Camden

I do not workon it.

In fact, from the time we leave the next morning until our second game in a series against Omaha two nights later, I do the opposite. I continue to push aside any thoughts of my family, and now, I’m avoiding Naomi as well.

Despite winning tonight, the mood in the locker room is subdued. I’m not sure if everyone’s just exhausted from back-to-backs, or if the dark cloud of my mood, which turned black the night Mike cut my hair, is spreading.

Maybe it’s less of a dark cloud and more of an infection.

See? I am a little ray of pitch-black melodrama right now. I can’t even stand the sound of my own thoughts.

Everyone gives me a wide berth. Even Coach barely said anything about me dropping gloves in the third period with one of their fourth liners who was clearly trying to provoke me. Fighting, something I rarely do, means five minutes in the box, putting strain on the other defensive pairs.

It was stupid. And now my cheek is swollen. I’m not sure I ever landed a blow. It’s harder to land a punch on skates than one might think. Mostly, we held each other by the jerseys while taking wild swings. His connected. Mine didn’t.

And I felt no better about it or anything else while watching my team play from my spot in the penalty box.

Knowing I need to repair things with my family and knowinghowto do it are two different things. How can I pick up the phone to call when I stopped answering their calls years ago? Maybe they don’t want to have me back in their lives. Maybe reaching out will make things worse.

All I know is that I feel like I’ve been pinned down under an avalanche of unwelcome emotions. I don’t want to subject Naomi or anyone else to it, so I’m just … quietly imploding, I guess.

Or, as Mike said years ago—I’m fighting ghosts. Still.

Now, some brave soul pauses in front of my stall, where I’m still sitting in my gear.

A towel. Water dripping onto the floor. Bare feet, wet from the shower. One kicks me in the shin.

“Yo, Cole. Are you coming out to dinner?”

I glance up at Van with the kind of look that would wilt spring flowers. “Do I look like I’m coming to dinner?”

I expect him to scamper away, like everyone else has who’s been subjected to me on this trip. But Van doesn’t budge. He frowns and crosses his arms over his bare chest and the massive dragon tattoo he has.

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