Page 51 of Fear of Love
As I watched the little kids stumble across the ice, I was reminded of Lydia. She couldn’t skate for the life of her. When we had our girls versus boys game, I learned just how bad she was. She was a wobbling mess and could barely put one blade in front of the other. During the first half of the game, she was either clinging to the wall, Mila, or me. I couldn’t help but smile, remembering her cocky attitude despite the way she held onto me.
I hadn’t seen her since Wednesday morning and was trying to come up with a way to spend time with her tonight. I waswrong in thinking one night with her would be enough. Instead of getting her out of my system, it was like she buried herself deeper.
I wanted more and more every time I saw her.
Before I could dwell on that thought any further, I caught sight of Rosie. The cute seven year old clung to the wall of the rink as she watched the other kids. While we got quite a few girls coming in, Rosie was one of the only ones who seemed interested in hockey. I saw the way she watched the boys playing with the pucks and sticks like she wanted to learn but was too scared.
Skating over, I squatted down in front of her.
“Hey, Rosie,” I greeted with a soft smile. Some kids were scared of my big frame, but Rosie just looked at me with wide curious eyes. “Why aren’t you out there skating with the others?” She knew how to skate just as well, if not better.
“They’re playing with the sticks.” The way she looked at the others made my chest hurt. “They said girls can’t play.”
At that, I looked at the group of four boys with narrowed eyes. They were about seven or eight, laughing as they passed a puck around.
“Don’t listen to them. Girls can play hockey.”Guys who claimed otherwise were misogynistic assholes,I mentally said to myself. I didn’t think any parent would appreciate me saying that out loud. “Want me to teach you?”
“I can?” The way Rosie’s eyes lit up felt like a punch to the chest.
“Of course. Let me go grab some sticks and pucks.”
When I got back Rosie was practically bouncing in excitement. This part of the ice was fairly empty, so she was going to have plenty of room to try it out.
“Here we go.” Dropping down to one knee, I held out the hockey stick for her to grab. She held it like a baby kitten,looking at it like it was the coolest thing she ever saw. I smiled at the reaction.
“Here’s how you hold it.” As I started teaching Rosie, I couldn’t help but grin at how serious she was watching me, her eyes tracking every movement. I didn’t think I ever had another kid, older or younger, pay such close attention.
I spent the next half hour teaching her how to correctly hold the hockey stick and how to hit the puck to send it down the ice. The look on her face was everything.
As the ice started to clear with kids heading home, I led Rosie over to the net. With multiple pucks in hand, I stepped to the side so she had plenty of space to hit.
“See if you can get it in the net.”
Wiggling with excitement, Rosie perfectly lined up the puck. She stuck her tongue out in concentration as she brought the hockey stick back, just like I taught her.
The puck sailed across the ice right into the net. Granted, we were only a few steps away, but it was impressive. For a little kid, she sure had some power. She picked up everything so fast, I wondered if she would join a team in the next few years.
A loud cheer from our side had us turning our heads. Rosie’s mom stood by the boards, beaming.
“Mom!” Rosie yelled, taking off toward her mother, dropping the hockey stick. She stumbled a few times before slamming into the wall and gripping it tightly. “Did you see that?!”
“I did, baby.” Her mom grinned down at her daughter as Rosie animately talked about what she did today.
I was so engrossed with Rosie, I hadn’t noticed all the other kids were gone for the day, even Nathan.
“Thank you, Landon!” Rosie’s mom called after me as she ushered her daughter off the ice.
“Anytime,” I replied, sending a wave to Rosie as she got ready to leave. The cute little girl bounced around, her voice carrying through the place as they left.
The clock said it was a little after five o’clock as I slowly skated around the rink, picking up pucks as I went. As I came around by the benches, a figure caught my attention, the familiar blonde hair making my eyebrows raise.
“Blondie?”
Coming to a stop in front of her, Lydia looked at me with a small smile. She had the tiniest dimple on her right cheek. It was slowly becoming my favorite thing to look at.
“Hey,” she greeted.
“Willingly coming to my place of work? Is the world ending?” I teased.
