Page 39 of O Goalie Night
I pull into the parking lot of the complex we’re skating at. There are three separate ices here and the parking lot is packed. I circle the lot as I look for a free spot to park.
“Exactly how many people are going to witness my downfall this morning?” Beth asks noting the number of cars.
“I prefer to call it your impending triumph.” I find a free space and pull in. “And just me. I know the manager pretty well and have helped him out several times over the years. We’ve got one of the smaller rinks to ourselves for an hour.”
Her head nods, but her lips remain sealed together.
“Hey,” I prompt, softly. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
She appears to consider my offer for a moment before nodding again, this time with conviction. “No. I want to do this.”
CHAPTER 17
BETH
Ido not want to do this.
Foster walks us through what appears to be a staff entrance at the back of the complex. I follow him through a series of concrete hallways that he seems to know well. With a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, he looks even bigger than usual.
He pushes through a set of swinging doors, holding one open for me so I can walk through. The temperature drops several degrees as I enter the rink which is foreign and familiar all at once.
I spent a lot of time in rinks growing up. Not only was Ben a superstar on ice from the time I was in Kindergarten, but both my older sisters played hockey as well. The unmistakable scent of burnt coffee fills my nostrils and I drag my feet along the thick rubber-coated flooring towards the stands where several pairs of skates are lined up.
“I didn’t know what size your feet were,” Foster admits as he sets his bag down on the bench. “I asked themanager to leave a few pairs for you to try. If none of these work, I’ll find a pair that does.”
I run my fingers over the sleek black skates. They’re all worn but in excellent condition. And they look freshly sharpened. “I think these ones should be fine.”
He sits down and pulls his own skates out of his bag and I join him on the bench, sitting a few feet away. I watch him take off his boots and slip his feet into the skates. His long fingers tighten and pull at the laces like he’s plucking a guitar. It’s mesmerising how quickly he’s laced up and ready to go, while I’m still pulling the skates on my feet.
I start to awkwardly pull at the laces with my gloved hands.
Foster settles in front of me, on his knees. “I’ve got you.”
He slides my right foot between his legs to keep it steady and proceeds to tighten the skate with impressive dexterity. His hold feels intimate, which is utterly ridiculous given the layers of fabric and fibres keeping us from actually touching.
He ties them in a loopy bow before moving his hands to my ankle and giving it a gentle squeeze. “How does that feel?” His voice is husky.
Absolutely incredible.
“Good,” I breathe. “Super good.”
He smiles up at me. “Good.”
Releasing my right foot, he repeats the same process with my left.
I know this should not be so stimulating, but Foster James on his knees in front of me is not a sight I’m going to get over any time soon. He’s all business, focused onthe task at hand. Unlike me, who can’t help but notice how long his eyelashes are from this vantage point.
When he finishes, he leans back and looks up at me, a tenderness in his eyes. “Can I ask you something?”
I beat him to the punch by answering, “You want to know why I never learned to skate.”
He nods, but adds, “Only if you want to tell me.”
I pat the spot next to me and he joins me on the bench once again.
“The rule in my house was that everyone learned when ‘the skates’ fit.” I make the finger quotes to emphasise “the skates.” “We didn’t have a lot of money growing up, so everyone in my family learned on the same pair of skates. ‘The skates’ fit me when I was five. I was so excited to learn so I could skate with my sisters. Up until then, I was only able to annoy them on non-frozen surfaces, which put me at a disadvantage every winter.”
He chuckles and I continue.
