CHAPTER 21
SKYLAR
“His office is this way, babe,” Scott says, giving my arm a gentle tug, encouraging me to keep walking, but something catches my eye.
“Hold on.” I slow my stride and pause in front of a large glass display case. “I want to look at this.”
The case is arranged in a timeline, depicting players and various pieces of hockey gear that have changed throughout the years. I move through the earlier years and smile when I reach Scott’s freshmen year team photo. He looks exactly like the boy I remember.
“Look how young you were,” I call over my shoulder before moving on to the next case.
Scott has always been an amazing goalie, sharp in the crease and quick on the ice. His position doesn’t require him to skate up and down the ice to chase after the puck, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t capable of it. I’m fairly certain he could play any position on the ice. Then again, maybe I am a little biased.
“I look like a baby,” he scoffs from the other side of the room. Undeterred, I continue following the journey of his college career.
There’s a photo of him taken during his sophomore year and he’s on the ice. Brantley is with him and they’re talking. Scott’s mask is up, so I have a clear image of his face. He looks pretty angry, but at the same time I think he looks incredibly handsome in his game jersey; the same jersey that bears a big C on the left side of his chest. It appears he was appointed captain that year. That doesn’t surprise me.
“I was so pissed that night. We were down two and our defense couldn’t get their shit together. I reamed Cage over it, and we came back in the third period to win by one.” He tosses me a wink. “Come on, I want you to meet Coach.”
“One more minute,” I murmur as my eyes land on a photo taken of him earlier this year when he received the Richter Award. A lump forms in my throat when I realize I’ve missed out on all the big moments of his life. For two years, he had someone else by his side to share in these moments. Someone else was there to cheer him on. Pleasure him after a big win. Hold him after a disappointing loss.
He comes over and hugs me from behind. “What is it, Blondie?” His hand goes to my hair, brushing it aside so he can get a better look at my face. “Why are you sad, babe?”
“This.” I stretch my hand over the expanse of glass and lower my voice to a choked whisper. “I’ve missed so much.”
“Hey.” He spins me around to face him. “Try not to think about those things. All that is in the past.”
“No.” I brush a wayward tear from my cheek. “I should have been there.”
“You’re here now,” he says softly, “and that’s what matters.” He tips my chin up to meet his steely gaze. “We both have regrets, but we also had our reasons.”
My heart is beating with so many emotions right now. It’s filled with regret for time wasted. It’s bursting with happiness for the second chance we’ve been given. But it’s also laden with fear over what’s going to happen when my time here comes to an end. In four short days, I return to Atlanta. Where will that leave us? The look on his face tells me he knows exactly what I’m thinking. For all I know, his heart may be giving him the same kind of scare, because he does his best to reassure me.
“Hey. We’ve still got four days.” His grip around my waist tightens. “I don’t want to spend them worrying about all the what ifs and what nows.”
“Are we crazy?” I shake my head. “I mean, how are we going to make this work?”
His hands fall to his sides as he steps back and cocks his head, the smile dropping from his face. “You’re serious?”
“Think about it. We live two separate lives. I’m in another state and my job is there. How does this even work?”
Scott’s arms go behind his head, and he looks toward the ceiling and sighs. He doesn’t say anything for a few beats, and then he finally answers. “Skylar, people have long distance relationships all the time and they make it work. I can’t tell you what tomorrow holds. All I can do is promise that whatever it may be, I want us to face it together. For now, let’s just try and focus on today, see where that leads us, and tomorrow will figure itself out.”
“Okay.” I nod, voice ready to crack because of the impact his words have on my already unstable heart. I’m not sure if I’m the luckiest girl in the world or the most gullible. He’s made promises to me in the past and broke nearly every one of them. But this time it feels different. He’s no longer a boy spouting promises to try and win me over. Whether he knows it or not, he won me a long time ago; I’ve just been patiently waiting for him to realize what he so thoughtlessly threw away.
Something in his eyes tells me he has no intention of making the same mistake twice.
***
“Coach, got a minute?” Scott asks after knocking on the open door. The man behind the desk smiles then rises to greet him.
“Son, for you I have at least two.” They both laugh, and I stand back and watch as the two men share an embrace in a way a father would greet his long-lost son. He steps back and his eyes meet mine over Scott’s shoulder. His smile broadens. “Well, who do we have here?”
“Coach Bishop, I’d like you to meet my girl, Skylar Dennison.” Scott beams proudly. The phrase ‘my girl’ rings loudly in my ears.
“Hi.” I grin as I throw up a hand in a wave.
Coach makes his way over with laughter still dancing in his warm, brown eyes. “Skylar, it’s a pleasure to meet you. This guy calls me Coach, but you can call me Kevin.” He takes my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “So, how do you know this troublemaker?” Kevin winks at me, while Scott’s eyes roll toward the ceiling.
“We used to date back in high school.” I smirk.
“Aha, so you knew him when?” Kevin chuckles and leans against his desk. “Tell me, Skylar, do you live in the area?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I live in Atlanta. I’m a writer for PLAY magazine, and I’m in town doing a feature on Scott and Brantley Cage.”
“She doesn’t just write for the magazine,” Scott chimes in. “Skylar’s also an amazing photographer. Her photos are featured in every issue.” When he catches the surprised look on my face, he merely shrugs his shoulder and smiles.
To say I’m flattered would be an understatement. I had no idea he’s seen any of my work, let alone that he felt this way about it.
“Is that so?” Kevin asks, turning his attention back to me. “Are you coming to the charity skate this Saturday?”
I walk over to Scott and thread my hand in his. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. It’s been a while since I’ve seen this guy in action; I’m anxious to see if he’s still got it.” I give him a nudge with my hip, and he responds by pulling me in tightly against him.
“Oh, I’ve still got it. I’ve got moves you’ve never seen,” his voice growls, and I can’t help feeling we’re no longer talking about his skills in front of the net.
Coach clears his throat, and I feel like we’ve just been caught doing something naughty. “Are the helmets going to be done in time?”
“Oh, yeah. I took them to Gary at Wicked Saves Designs. He promised to have them ready by Friday afternoon,” Scott informs Kevin.
“What design are you having done, and what exactly are the helmets being used for?” I ask with great interest.
“I’m having three helmets custom painted to be identical to the helmet I wore while I played for GLU, only these ones will also bear the Richter Award logo. Two of the helmets will be auctioned off at the event on Saturday.”
“Scott has a huge following of younger players. These kids look up to him and all the other players who dedicate their time running summer clinics and helping to raise money so these kids can afford to play. Hockey is an expensive sport for parents to take on. Those helmets could easily bring in five thousand a piece, which will go a long way to helping these kids,” Kevin adds.
“That’s amazing, Scott.” I beam with pride. “But you mentioned three helmets. What are you doing with the third?”
Scott takes a deep breath and gives my hand a warm squeeze. “I’m giving it to one of the kids we’re trying to raise money for. He used to play and shared the same dream as me, only he was injured in an ATV rollover accident earlier this summer. His leg was badly crushed, and he’s already undergone two surgeries to repair it. As it stands, he may never have the chance to see that dream come true.” His voice goes off to barely a whisper, and my heart aches so badly for him in this moment that I find myself hugging him right in front of Coach Kevin.
“You have a mighty big heart, Scott Rivers. In my opinion, that young man couldn’t have chosen a better role model.” He cups my face in his hands and lowers his lips to mine. The kiss is sweet but laced with need, and when we break apart, his eyes open and it’s hard to miss the dampness trapped in his lashes.
“Coach, you think I can get some ice time with my girl?”
***
Kevin arranged it so we could get an hour on the ice before we make the drive back to Detroit. It’s been a few years since I’ve worn a pair of skates, but Scott assures me it’s just like riding a bike. That’s easy for him to say seeing as how he’s spent his entire life on a narrow blade. Even though I’m not a seasoned pro, I think I can manage to get around the ice without breaking a leg.
At the moment, Scott is kneeling at my feet, lacing up a pair of skates he borrowed from the equipment room.
“See,” he says, looping the laces around the hooks, “the trick is to make sure you get the laces nice and tight. But not too tight. If they’re too tight, not only will they hurt your shins, but you also won’t be able to move across the ice properly. On the other hand, if the laces are too loose, you’ll have too much wiggle room, and that’s not good, either.”
I chew on my bottom lip while watching him work. “I guess it’s a good thing I have you to do it for me. I’d hate to have too much wiggle room.” I giggle.
He finishes the task and walks forward on his knees, filling the space between my legs. Calloused hands toy with the hem of my shirt before slipping inside to tease up my sides. “It’s definitely a good thing I’m here. I take your safety very seriously.” Our lips meet, and he wastes no time sliding his tongue inside to dance erotically with mine. Within seconds, the heat between us shifts from warm to dangerously high levels as the kiss intensifies and we both moan. With one hand under my ass and the other cupping the back of my head, he pulls me forward until we’re both on the floor and I’m straddling his lap. At first, it’s not very comfortable because of the ice skates, but the moment he rocks his pelvis up and into me, I forget all about the discomfort in my knees and focus on the sensation building between my legs.
“Scott,” I whisper, grinding shamelessly against his erection while his hands work beneath my shirt, fondling my breasts.
“Skylar. Fuck.” His hands slide down to my hips to still my movements. “Babe, you better stop, or I’m gonna blow my wad right here in my pants.”
I blush and clamber off him as best as I can given the fact I’m wearing metal blades as shoes. I wait until he’s finished lacing up his skates, then he leads me out to the ice.
“Wait here one sec.” He sets aside the puck and two sticks he grabbed on the way out of the locker room then skates over to a booth located behind the Plexiglas divider. Swinging the door open, he goes inside and fumbles with something I can’t quite see from where I’m waiting. A few seconds later, the overhead lights go out and I realize he’s playing with the control panel. He starts flipping switches, and one by one, designated accent lights flicker on. He flips one more switch, and music begins to play. I know the song. I love this song. Scott skates back my way and holds out a hand for me to hold.
“Skylar Dennison, may I have this dance?” he says with a very serious face.
A warm sensation pools in my belly when I slide my hand inside his. “I thought you’d never ask.” Together, we step out onto the ice just as Brantley Gilbert starts to sing “Fall Into Me.”
“You better not let me fall on my ass,” I warn as we move beside each other.
“Never.” He moves behind me, placing his hands on my hips and settling me in the safety of his strong arms. With my back pressed against his chest and his arms around me, I’ve never felt more protected as we skate around the rink in time with the music.
“I love this song,” I confess, feeling so very blessed to be sharing this moment with him. The second chorus starts, and Scott’s lips caress the shell of my ear as he very softly begins to sing to me.
The lyrics to this song are so powerful. So moving. I listen closely, and as they come to an end, I know without a doubt that I am deeply in love with this man. I’m still hopelessly and helplessly in love with Scott Rivers, and in four days, I’ll be leaving him again.
“So, you ready to take a shot on goal? See if you can get one past me?” he teases and skates over to retrieve the gear he stashed by the bench on our way in. He comes back and places a stick in my hands.
He takes me by the shoulders and guides me over to the blue line, where he proceeds to drop the puck before moving off to stand by the net. “You remember how this is done?” He smirks.
“I think I can manage,” I reply, adding a heavy dose of sass just to prove I’ve got this. “Let’s just hope I do it without falling on my ass,” I mumble silently.
He holds a hand to his ear and gives me a confused look. “What was that?”
“Nothing. I just said, get ready for me to kick your ass, Rivers.”
He laughs like he doesn’t believe I can do this but is trying to give me the benefit of the doubt. “I’ll let you take the first few shots on an empty net, just to let you warm up and then—”
I fire the first shot before he finishes his sentence, and it veers off to the right side of the net but still makes it inside.
“Goal!” I give the air a fist pump and do a little dance on my skates. I’m pretty sure I look like a complete goof, but holy shit, that felt good!
“Alright. Guess you don’t need a warm-up after all. But you better be ready for me, Blondie. You’re about to go up against the best, and I’m going to make you work for it.” He moves in front of the crease to take up position. Even from this distance, seeing him in jeans and his skates, legs spread in a deep crouch, I find myself wanting to tear off his clothes, drop to my knees, and take him in my mouth. Cold knees be damned.
Our eyes connect, and we have about ten seconds where we stare each other down. Right now, I could take the shot and it would probably bounce off his stick and he would gloat. But I have a better idea. I kick off with my skate and use the stick to guide the puck from side to side, moving slowly down the ice toward where he’s waiting for me. Shaking his head and laughing. I draw back my right arm like I’m going to take the shot, but instead, I keep skating straight into his arms, catching him off-guard. We both go down laughing, and I end up stretched out on top of him on the ice. I don’t give him time to react; I just sink my tongue into his open mouth and proceed to kiss that smug smile right off his sexy face.
When we come up for air, he doesn’t make a move to get off the ice. He merely glances over at the puck lying just beyond the net. “Looks like you didn’t get the goal this time, Blondie.”
I drop my lips back to his ear as a sexy smile spreads across my face. “I may have missed the net, but I still think I’m about to score big.”
I shimmy down his legs, soaking my knees in the process, and press the softest of kisses over the prominent bulge behind his zipper.
“Wait.” His hand goes to my head and he looks around and lowers his voice. “You hoping to score right here? ‘Cause that’s like number five on my list of things to experience before I die.”
“Oh, really?” I raise a brow. “You expecting to die anytime soon?”
The hand on my head tightens its grip as my lips brush over the denim. “I don’t know, but I’m willing to risk death from frostbite to cross that one off my list,” he answers on a groan.
I clamber up his body to whisper in his ear. “Well, Captain, get ready to have a red ass, because today is your lucky day.” I wink at him just before lowering his zipper.