Page 27 of The Fine Line
His face is unreadable now. No teasing grin. No smirk.
I blow out a shaky breath. “Rhett?—”
“Thanks for the pep talk, Cub,” he says flatly, tossing his stick up and catching it before turning away.
The arena announcer calls the team to the ice.
Rhett starts to walk off, then glances back. “Congrats on getting the job,” he says. “I knew you would.”
And then he jogs down the tunnel, joins his teammates, and steps onto the ice—smirk sliding right back into place like a perfect mask.
seven
RHETT
Fourteen Years Ago
Lake Placid, NY, USA
The mask falls the second the door opens.
The weight of it all hits me as I cross the threshold.
All the bullshit I’ve swallowed for the last hour—or maybe the last week, the last year—rises like a wave I can’t stop.
I turn, slam the door shut with both hands, then kick it.
Once. Twice. A third time, hard enough to make my shin scream.
“Fuck!”
That’s going to make practice even more pleasant tomorrow.
After about ten seconds, the pain dulls and my pulse starts to settle. I drop my head, blow out a long breath, then square my stance and turn toward the full light of day for the first time today.
And goddamn, it’sbeautiful.
Just like it has been every summer for the past decade of my life.
I suppose there are worse places to get shipped off to for two months than Lake Placid.
This town pulls in the best of the best. Every serious player would kill to train at the Olympic Center—the same place that birthed the Miracle on Ice in 1980—even for just a day.
I mean, it’s the opportunity of a lifetime. No one would turn it down.
Not even an eight-year-old kid who was scared out of his mind when his parents suggested (and by “suggested,” I mean told him) that he’d be spending his entire summer in another country at an elite hockey camp here.
And that same kid kept coming back. Every single year.
My parents said if I wanted to be the best, this is where I needed to be. No distractions. No excuses.
Not even…them. No visits. No calls. Just focus.
I used to question it. Not anymore. No point.
So I do what I came here for. I train. I play. And I kick ass doing it.
I can’t say they were wrong. Spending my summers in peak form while other guys my age took time off? It’s a big part of why I’m the star forward I am now—and why I’m heading to the University of Toronto this fall on a full-ride scholarship I locked down at fifteen.
