Page 18 of Loving Ladybug: Part One
Her look grew skeptical as she got my cookie from the case of baked goods. “You let Zia know if you change your mind. You’re not going back to him, right?”
“Never.” I shook my head.
“Good. Sit.” She handed me my cookie, and a bottled lemon soda I hadn’t ordered.
I took a seat at my favorite corner spot that gave me a view of the bustling street. This area reminded me too much of home–and Nonna–so I didn’t come here much. One of the good food banks was down the street.
Hmm. I checked my phone as I gobbled my cookie. The food bank was open today. Nice. The campus food pantry was closed on weekends during the summer, and I didn’t have summer meal privileges in the dining hall. But I did have Knights’ dining room privileges at the rink–and I got fed on shift, though it was more snacks than food. Okay, I’d use the meal boards more and go back to a regular food bank rotation. Yeah, I could make this work.
She brought me my sandwich and fries. “This is going to be your year. I can feel it.”
“Thank you, I hope so,” I told her. Zia knew all about my dreams of playing pro hockey. I dug into my sandwich, which always had the perfect ratio of meat to mustard.
After this, I’d visit the food bank. Then, I’d curl up on the couch with the laptop Clark lent me and figure things out.
Tony was right. I needed to focus on classes, hockey, and myself. If I was going to do that, I needed to see how much that would cost.
A good soothing spreadsheet would do the trick. I may have supported Austin’s big dumb ass for all these years. He may have broken my heart. But I wouldn’t let that stop me from reaching my dreams.
You’re a fucking nothing who will never fucking make it.
I took a bite of pickle.
Yeah, we’d see about that.
Chapter Six
Tenzin
Afeeling of calmness came over me when I arrived at the training center Monday morning. There was nothing quite like being on the ice to soothe a ragged soul.
The small rink was occupied. A machine rapidly fired pucks, and a goalie in full–and ratty–gear went after them with a vengeance. Cooter called that setting “death wish.”The small goalie thwacked the pucks away with their stick and caught them with their catching glove over and over again.
It was mesmerizing to watch her–I was almost certain the goalie was female. There was some excellent technique there, too. She struggled with her glove-side.
Still, she attacked everything with a ferocity that made me worry. Cooter only set the puck machine todeath wishwhen something was wrong.
The machine buzzed, and the pucks stopped. The little goalie slid into the splits on the ice with a sigh, leaning back into a stretch. She took off her catching glove, blocker, and mask. A pale pink ponytail tumbled out.
Oh. It washer. The goalie I’d seen the other day. Olive skin glistened with sweat. Short nails, painted purple with sparkles, reached for a towel, which she mopped her face with. Her nose, which winked with a piercing, was a bit crooked, and long dark lashes rimmed hazel eyes. An angry gash marred her forehead.
Tilting her head back, she took a long drink from her sticker-covered water bottle, which saidNYIT Hockeyon it. Bruises marred her neck and face, which made my hands fist. My alpha didn’t like the idea of someone hurting her.
Her hazel eyes widened as she noticed me. “Shit. I didn’t see you. Sorry.” She scrambled up off the ice. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Tell me to leave, even if it’s mid-workout. I don’t mind.”
“Are you alright?” I skated over to her.
“Me?” She picked up, then dropped her water bottle, then bent down to get it, and dropped her mask, like she was nervous. Her scent grew sour.
“My friend only uses that setting on the puck machine when something’s wrong.” I skated closer to her. Her scent was minty and dewy, fresh like an herb garden in the morning–not peppermint candy.
“It’s been a shitty few days,” she sighed. Her hockey skates–and she wore hockey skates,notgoalie skates–looked like the end was nigh.
“I… I understand. I’ve had a few days like that myself.” Over the weekend, I’d been setting up utilities, transferring accounts,getting a new driver’s license, selling what I wasn’t bringing with me, and all the other things that came with a cross-country move.
Each task was a nail in the coffin of my old life.
“Your boyfriend and you broke up after you spentyearssupporting his big dumb ass? I don’t want that fucker back, but it still hurts. I… I never saw it coming.” She frowned at me, absently running her fingers along the cut on her forehead, her scent going salty with sadness.
