Page 174 of Hat Trick

“No.” Dad sits up in his recliner and fumbles with the glasses on top of his head. He shoves them up his nose and squints again. “You’re fucking with me.”

I look over the top of the phone and wink at Lexi before I take off again, hugging the curve of the rink like I’ve done millions of times before. I drag my fingers across the ice, a holler and a laugh falling from me as I change directions mid-push, finishing the rest of the lap backward and with my head held high.

“Holy shit,” Dad whistles. “And look at that blade. How does it work?”

“Attaches to the pylon.” I hold onto the boards and lift my right leg so he can get a better look. “It’s only a blade, not a skate, and it’s so lightweight.”

“Wow. Where’d you get that? It’s a genius piece of equipment.”

“Lexi.” I take the phone from her and flip the camera around so we’re both in the shot. “My athletic trainer.”

“Hi, Mr. Mitchell,” she says with a wave, and my dad’s knowing smirk has me six seconds away from ending our call. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“And you. Are you the one who’s been keeping Riley in line?” Dad asks.

“Yes, sir. We’ve been working together since September, and he’s come a long way.” Lexi puts a hand on my shoulder, and I don’t miss the way my dad’s smile grows. “I’m so proud of him.”

“You and me both. Get some footage so I can show your mother. She’s going to be so angry she missed this,” he says.

“I’m going to do a lot of recording, and I’ll make sure Riley sends it your way,” Lexi adds. “Everyone should see this.”

“I’m going to do another lap or two, Dad. I’ll call you later,” I say.

“Sounds good. Nice to meet you, Lexi. And Ri? I’m so proud of you.”

I smile and end the call. Lexi is looking at me, and I join her on the bench.

“I’m so happy for you, Riley,” she says.

“I’m happy too. And, hey. You were moving pretty quick out there when you were helping me along. When did you get so fast?”

“Oh.” Lexi blushes and knocks my knee with hers. “I wanted to be ready to join you if and when you wanted to get back on the ice, so I’ve, um, been skating with Maverick and Hudson a couple times a month. I can go backward—but I’m not great at it—and I know how to come to a complete stop too.”

“You did that for me?”

“All of this is for you.” She gestures at the rink then down to my leg. “I’ll make a hundred calls if it means finding something to get you back to the sport you love. I’ll stay here every day after practice with you if it means helping you feel closer and closer to who you were before. I’ll cheer you on even if you fall on your ass three hundred times in a row, because that smile of yours when you were out there was the greatest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

“I spent weeks wishing I could go back to who I was before the accident,” I start. “My new body didn’t feel right.Iwasn’t right, and I was so fucking depressed. But if someone popped out of a time machine right now and offered me the chance to go back to the old Riley, the chance to have my old life back, I wouldn’t take it. I might be down a leg. My spirit might be fucking bloodied and bruised, but look at what I have now: the opportunity to spread awareness about the need for accessible prosthetics for young athletes. The best friends a guy could ask for, who I’m closer with than before. And you. I have you, and that’s the best thing of all.”

“This isnotsupposed to be a sappy rom-com moment. It’s supposed to be an adrenaline-filled workout session that leaves you in a tired heap on the ice because you’ve pushed yourself so hard. We can cross another thing off your Life List.” Lexi wipes under her eyes then grabs a fistful of my hoodie. I laugh when she brings her mouth to mine, smiling when she kisses me once, then twice. “I’m glad I have you too.”

“You know, Lex,” I murmur, running my wet hand through her hair. She doesn’t seem to mind. “I’m starting to think you might be the one who likes me.”

“You have no idea how much I like you, Mitchy,” she whispers back. “Even I can’t comprehend it.”

“Enough of this sappy shit,” I say, and her exhale is a soft puff of a laugh against my cheeks. “Want to race?”

“You, the NHL superstar, wants to race me, the lowly athletic trainer who still has to reach for the boards to balance from time to time?”

“I’m down a leg, Lex. Pretty sure this is going to be an even playing field.”

“Yeah?” There’s a challenge in her eye when she elbows me gently. When she hops to her skates and stumbles forward, taking off for the goalie crease on the other side of the rink. “Loser is buying dinner.”

I give her a head start before I chase her down and wrap my arms around her middle. She lets out a scream that turns into a cackle when we both fall back onto the ice, out of control and a mess of limbs and blades. After, she records me doing two easy laps at a slow and steady pace and passes along the video to our social media team.

Ten minutes later, the video gets posted on Instagram. A tidal wave of comments and notifications come in, but I don’t give them any attention.

Today is day one. The start of something new, something fucking exciting, and I’m doing it with her by my side.

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