Page 23 of Goalies Don't Date Ice Princesses

“You just did.”

I rolled my eyes. “Seriously.”

“Shoot,” he said.

I hesitated for a moment, the question that had lingered in the back of my mind for years finally bubbling to the surface. The desire to know the truth about Archer’s indifference towards me during our younger years became too strong to ignore any longer.

“Why did you always ignore me before this?” I blurted out, unable to contain the vulnerability in my voice. Archer’s expression shifted, his playful demeanor fading into a more serious one. He skated closer to me, his movements fluid and effortless as if he were dancing on the ice. “I mean, I came over all the time with Adelynn and you just... never spoke.” He would never acknowledge my presence, as though I were invisible.

He slowed down, gliding gracefully beside me as we skated along the edge of the rink.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice gentle. “I promise it wasn’t anything against you.”

“You mean you didn’t just hate me on sight?” I asked, nudging him a little with my elbow. He stared at me for a few seconds, long enough for me to wonder what was going through his brain.

“Quite the opposite,” he whispered. He cleared his throat and looked away before I could process what he meant. “You came around at a... bad time for me.”

Choosing not to mention that he was still like that until a couple of weeks ago for the time being, I tried to push a little bit deeper. “Your dad?”

“Yeah,” Archer said. “After he died... I guess I put up walls around me. I didn’t know how to deal with the grief and the pain, so I shut people out. It wasn’t just you, though it may have seemed that way. I shut everyone out, even Adelynn and Avianna.”

I listened intently, my heart aching for the young Archer who had faced such loss and had chosen isolation as a coping mechanism. It suddenly made sense why he seemed so guarded all those years ago and why he struggled to let anyone in.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. Despite all those times I had helped Adelynn with her grief, I hadn’t thought about the way it affected Archer too, even after our conversation the other night. Of course, I knew all four of the kids would have been devastated by the loss, but the long-term effects of grief were different. Sometimes, they were so subtle that it could be hard to see—especially when it was someone like Archer, who just shut down.

We continued to skate in silence for a while, the sound of our blades gliding across the ice creating a soothing rhythm. It was as if the rink had become our sanctuary, a place where we could both let down our guards and be vulnerable with each other.

The air around us felt charged with an unspoken tension, as if we were teetering on the edge of something more than just friendship.

As we skated side by side, our movements were synchronized as if we were performing a carefully choreographed routine, and I couldn’t help but steal glances at him. Lost in my thoughts, I almost missed the moment when Archer’s hand brushed against mine. The touch sent an electric shock through me. His fingers lingered for a brief moment before he withdrew his hand with a slight hesitation. The air crackled with a new tension and I wondered if he could feel it too. He must have, because he came to a stop. Not wanting to leave him in the dust, I did too.

In that moment, time seemed to stand still. It was so quiet, I almost thought I heard the sound of our hearts beating in sync. Archer came towards me, his intentions clear as I day. Anticipation coursed through my body as I looked at him, ready for this. But just as I leaned in, my heart harder than I ever had before, we were abruptly interrupted by a loud crash coming from the hallway.

Panic surged through me, and I pushed Archer away with a sudden force I didn’t know I possessed. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, hurt lingering in his eyes for a fraction of a second before he masked it with a cool expression. I hated to see it, especially now.

“I guess it’s getting late,” he said in his usual flat voice. “We should probably go.”

I nodded, unable to find my voice as I tried to process what had just happened. The magic of the moment shattered, replaced by the harsh reality of what had just happened. Something had changed between us, something that couldn’t be easily ignored or brushed aside.

As we made our way off the rink, I couldn’t shake off the lingering feeling of what could have been. The interrupted moment left a taste in my mouth, like a promise that was suddenly ripped away.

Archer’s strides were long and purposeful as he led the way out of the rink, his shoulders held stiffly. I followed closely behind him, stealing glances whenever I could. His face was set in a mask of indifference again, back to the boy I was used to seeing around.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said softly as we came to the spot where we had to split up. Archer nodded silently. I swallowed thickly, hating the pool of disappointment settling in my stomach. I took a couple of steps down the hallway, but then spun back around.

“Hey,” I said. Archer looked at me. I hesitated, not sure what I could say that would make this situation better. “Thank you. For…” How did I put my feelings into words? “For talking to me now.”

It was a lame reason to give, but the way that Archer smiled back at me as I said it made it feel better, anyway.

fifteen

The personwho found the whole “having to spend the weekend with a bunch of hockey players” the funniest was Adelynn.

“You’re really going to have a celebration party with them?” She asked, giggling her herself. I glared at her half-heartedly as I continued grabbing clothes from the closet and throwing them into my duffel bag.

“It’s not that funny,” I said. “We probably won’t even talk to each other. They’ll stay on their side of the room and we’ll stay on ours, no mingling required.”

“Yeah, right,” Adelynn said. “I guarantee someone will end up kissing by the of the night. Who knows, maybe it will be you. Any hockey boys interest you?”

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