Page 33 of Collide
My head snaps to the clock, and I curse, springing out of bed. Kilner would have my head if I missed today’s practice.
Running a hand through my hair on my way inside the arena doesn’t help how disheveled I look. As for the pain that shoots through me with every stride, I can’t focus on it too much because I’m going to have sixteen kids slamming into me for the next hour.
“Every minute adds a lap around the rink.” Kilner has the superpower of materializing where you don’t want him.
My eyes squeeze shut. “I overslept.”
The crease on his forehead deepens. “Don’t give me an excuse. You know the consequences.”
Glancing at the time, I groan. “That’s five laps.”
“Six now.”
I should know better than to complain. My smile is plastic when I look at him. “Have I told you lately that you’re my favorite coach?”
“Get on the damn ice before we make it to seven.”
Holding in my groans as I tie up my skates proves to be a challenge. I slip on my instructor jacket and beckon the kids into a line on the ice. Today, I appreciate how long it takes them to form a straight line because I’m still trying to stretch out the soreness in my body.
“Okay, who's ready to show off what they’ve been practicing?” Tiny cheers erupt. “We’ll skate and learn some stick handling before we finish off with a game.”
By the time I get a few trainers on the ice we’re in full swing.
***
Summer
WHEN I WILLINGLY drove to the rink today, I didn’t think I’d be sweating while seated so close to the ice. But I guess that’s what happens when you’re watching a burly hockey player teach six-year-olds how to play defense. The zip-up he wears hugs every dip of his muscles. I try to stop the bubbling reaction that climbs to the surface. Aiden’s so secure in himself, in school and in hockey. It’s insanely attractive, and I’m not too proud to admit that.
When a kid slips and starfishes on the ice until Aiden sets her back on her skates, I can’t hold back my laugh.
My cheeks heat when green eyes find me.Get it together, Summer.
The buzzer sounds, and the kids high-five the instructors before clattering off the rink. By the exit, Aiden talks to the parents, his gaze cutting to me every few seconds.
Finally stalking over to me, he pulls off his helmet. “What alternate universe did I fall into that you’re willingly at the rink?”
“Apparently, the one where you’re still impossibly annoying.”
“And lovable?” he asks with a boyish grin.
I laugh despite myself. “Maybe I just wanted to see if you’re actually helping these poor kids.”
“Ah, so you’re assessing how good I look as a DILF.”
“That was you as a dad? I saw you push them to the ice.”
“I was checking their stance. It’s all a part of being a good teacher. Though, I don’t expect you to know anything about that.”
“Keep talking, Crawford, and I might just tank your evaluation.”
His gaze narrows. “Evaluation?”
“Coach asked me to write you one,” I tell him. “It could get you out of community service.”
“And you said yes? Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” His face etches with fake concern.
“This is another thing I can hold over your head to make you do what I want.” I flutter my lashes.
