Page 106 of ICED
By the third set, my legs are burning and my lungs are clawing for air like I’m drowning in invisible tar. Ollie wheezes beside me, muttering, “I hate everything,” under his breath.
“You say that every Monday,” I pant.
“And I mean it every time.”
Jonno blows the whistle again, and we collapse against the boards, chests heaving.
“Catch your breath. We’re running battle drills next,” Coach barks. “Pair up. I want full-contact zone work. You’re fighting for puck control like your life depends on it.”
Which, given our current playoff standings, isn’t far off.
I partner with Dylan first, which is basically asking to get murdered. The guy’s an animal on skates; fast, ruthless, built like a freight train. He checks me into the boards with enough force to rattle my teeth, and I bounce back up with a grimace.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Didn’t feel a thing,” I lie.
He grins. “Liar.”
We trade hits and poke checks for ten brutal minutes before switching partners. I end up with Murphy next, and we go harder. Not because we don’t like each other, we’re good, but because we know how to push. I need the edge, and he’s happy to give it.
By the end of the drill, my jersey’s soaked through, my shoulders ache, and my thighs feel like they’ve been filled with wet cement.
Jonno doesn’t care.
“One more round! Then we’ll do power play work.”
Ollie drops his stick and flops onto the ice like a dying fish. “Tell my family I love them.”
“You don’t have family,” Dylan says.
“Tell Jacko, then. He’s basically my common-law husband at this point.”
“Romantic,” I mutter, hauling him up.
The rest of the morning passes in a blur of drills, systems work, and skating until I’m seeing stars. Coach keeps barking about the away game this weekend, how we’ve got to treat it like a playoff scenario, how we can’t rely on home-ice advantage, how it’s time to lock in.
I’m trying to listen. I am.
But my mind keeps drifting back to Maya and Lila. To the way Lila curled up in my hoodie on the sofa last night, insisting I readThe Gruffalotwice. To the way Maya tucked herself under my arm this morning while the kettle boiled, her sleepy smile still clinging to her lips.
I want them with me this weekend.
It’s a long drive to Manchester, and a two-night stay. Not the most glamorous trip, but the hotel’s decent, and if I can get a suite, it’ll give them both space. I’ve already cleared it with Jonno, he’s fine with me bringing them as long as I’m not distracted. Which I won’t be. If anything, knowing they’re in the stands will sharpen my focus.
I’m still thinking about it when practice finally ends and we’re released like prisoners from hell. I strip down in the changing room, sweat-soaked pads hitting the floor with wet thuds.
Ollie flops onto the bench beside me, towel around his neck. “I think my soul left my body during those suicides.”
“Join the club.”
He leans over, lowers his voice. “Hey. Meant to ask, any more issues with the alarm?”
I shake my head. “Nothing since those couple of nights.”
He nods, but his brow furrows slightly. “How’s Maya feeling about it probably being a tamper?”
“Yeah. Didn’t want to worry her, but I was honest. She changed the locks the next day.”
