Home Ice (5 page)

“Well …” Was it the praise? It seemed like everyone from his coach to his team to the fans had been letting him know how great they thought he was. More than usual. And the real season hadn’t even started yet. “Maybe, but I don’t understand why that would kill my game. Shouldn’t it make me play
better
?”

“If it were anyone but you.”

“Okay. I need a Twizzler.” He picked one off the plate and bit it in half.

She laughed. “Listen. You are one of the humblest people I’ve ever met, which is at odds with … the nature of your life. You know you’re a good hockey player. Top ranking. You’ve gotten compliments from some of the best people in the sport, and while I think it means a lot to you, it’s a lot to live up to. You set a pretty high standard for yourself, and now people expect that all the time. But athletes don’t work that way. We have bad days, bad months, bad seasons
.
Even the best of us. It’s still early in your career, but you made it a few years without a slump.”

“So you’re saying I’m due? Is this supposed to make me feel better?”

“
Why
does everyone think I come with that guarantee? I do want to help you feel better. But it’s probably going to suck getting there. I should make a disclaimer for my door: ‘You need to embrace the suck.’”

That almost got a smile from him, but a sigh pushed it out of the way, and he slid a hand through his hair. “Embrace the suck. Okay. So you really think it’s just my time to tank, and I’ll snap out of it? Like, before the season starts?”

“Not exactly.”

Of course not. Too easy.

“You need to work though it. You’re under a lot of pressure. And I’m willing to bet you never thought of it that way. You achieved everything you worked for and wanted. You asked for all of this and got it, so you feel guilty not only for the slump, but for hating all the compliments coming your way recently. Am I right?”

It had to be more than intuition. Sometimes her mind reading was downright creepy. “Have you talked to the TLC Network? They’d totally give you a show with the ladies who talk to ghosts.”

“The human brain isn’t so mysterious when it’s not your own. The distance gives me some perspective. Not to mention my nine years of study.”

“Right. Sorry.”

She waved it off with a smile.

“So … what’s the first step?”

“Unfortunately, the first step is the hardest. You need to forgive yourself for the slump and know it’s okay to have one. That means tuning out analytical criticism from commentators, teammates, fans, and, most of all, you.”

His mouth dropped open, but he closed it and sat up straight. “Isn’t it my job to listen and improve?”

“Your job is to listen to Nealy. She sent you to me. And I’m telling you to turn off the loudspeaker in your head broadcasting guilt and doubt. You
know
you’re a good player. Think of it as athlete’s block.”

“You mean like writer’s block?”

“Exactly. The skill didn’t go away. It’s just blocked by the pressure.”

Somehow, that made him feel better and worse. “How do I get rid of the pressure?”

She pursed her lips, and her pen paused on the paper. “You don’t. I’m sorry, kiddo. Your accomplishments and talent are going to keep you in the scrutiny spotlight for as long as you play. You have to learn to live with it.”

“Easier said than done.”

“I know. And you probably don’t have many people you can talk to about it. Have you tried Madden?”

“Uh …” The thought of talking to another guy—even his best friend and roommate—about what he was feeling made him nauseous. It was one thing to talk about girlfriends, but what was he supposed to say now?
It sucks having so many people think I’m awesome. It’s hard being so good at what I do.

Yeah, right.

“So that’s a no. Well, you might give it a shot. I know better than to suggest someone on the team. Isn’t there anyone else who might understand?”

No
was on the tip of his tongue, but the image of Lori came to mind, sitting across from him at the ice cream shop. Lori. The nickname came out so naturally the other night in his car, and she didn’t correct him. In his experience, everyone else called her Lorelai. Did that mean something?

“Maybe one person.”

Kally smiled. “Anyone you want to talk about?”

“Not … right now.” He tried to squash a smile. Didn’t entirely succeed. What if talking about Lori jinxed things? They were just getting to know each other.

“All right, well, if you ever want to, door’s open. Meanwhile, talking to her could help a lot.”

“Didn’t say it was a her.”

“Didn’t have to.” She winked and flipped the notepad closed. “Okay. Go forth and prosper. Come back when you need to. Or want to. I can always make time.”

“Any parting advice?”

“Your name isn’t Atlas.”

It took a second, but then he smiled. “World isn’t on my shoulders.”

She touched her nose. But she didn’t entirely look like she believed that.

How was he supposed to?

Monday, October 6th

Lori skated over the choppy, snowy ice with purpose, going through her old routine. If she could do it after hockey practice, she could do it when the ice was pristine in front of judges. Things had actually been getting better at the circus after that horrible night using Francesca’s skates. Maybe they all finally realized her monster truck willpower would roll right over whatever road bumps they threw her way, and they gave up. Not that she’d be letting her guard down any time soon. Not with them anyway.

She turned a corner, and even though she’d been expecting him, her heart did a couple of lutzes of its own at the sight of Dylan Cole leaning against the glass, watching her with that smile. The one that’d been appearing in her dreams on an almost nightly basis. As if ignoring him, she continued with her routine, dancing and jumping around the ice to the music, concentrating on the beat and moving with it. For the first time in a very long time, it was …
fun
. Dylan was her only spectator, no Val. That meant no judgment, no pressure.

When the triple came up, she took off without a thought and landed without a hitch. She laughed and spun to a stop, holding her sides. When it got so bad she snorted, Dylan chuckled, too.

“What am I missing? If the punch line was that jump, you’ll have to explain it to me because all I saw was awesome.”

She wiped the tears from under her eyes and skated to a stop by the glass. “Thanks. I don’t know why it’s funny. That ‘jump’ was the one I’ve been working on. The bane of my existence. And for the second time, thinking about you, I landed it like it’s never been a problem.”

“You were thinking about me?” He grinned, and it made his baby face even younger.

Good thing she’d already been flushed from the routine. He probably couldn’t tell that new heat rushed into her face. “I …” Couldn’t deny it now. “Well, you’re standing here.”

“Now. You said this was the second time. That means you thought about me before, when I wasn’t here, the first time.” Then he hit her with, “I think about you, too.”

Silly excitement prevented an immediate response. Was it smart to get involved with
anyone
right now, let alone another professional athlete? Probably not. They’d talked off and on the past week when they’d seen each other around the arena, and it’d been nice. Really nice. She’d started to look forward to it more than she was comfortable with. She should let him down easy, stop things before they really started.

“Do you mind if I skate with you a little? Just laps around the rink. I don’t want to—”

“Put on some Spandex and toss me in the air?”

“Right.”

She smiled in spite of herself and hesitated. There was some distraction in those chocolate eyes, but it was the underlying anxiety that got to her. “Sure. Lace up.”

He must have anticipated her agreement because he scooped his skates off the floor and sat on the steps to switch his shoes out for them. He joined her on the ice, and they skated side by side. They weren’t touching, but his warmth seeped into her. It was like standing by a bonfire. The silence would have been comfortable if it weren’t for the subtle tension drifting off him. He couldn’t be breaking up with her—they hadn’t really been going out. Still, his unease was contagious. She waited.

On their second lap, he took a deep breath. “So … I haven’t been on my game lately.”

Oh
. The Sinners hadn’t won a single preseason game. She’d caught a sports show on the radio while driving to the arena in the mornings, the first time by accident. Then they made it a habit of discussing Dylan, so she’d started tuning in but didn’t take it seriously. They seemed harsh, and she may have had some one-sided arguments with her car stereo, but she’d refrained from calling in. These games didn’t officially count anyway. On the off chance he didn’t listen to the radio, she kept it to herself. “Anything going on?”

“Personally? No. I don’t think so. I don’t know. Coach made me see the team psych doctor. She thinks I put too much pressure on myself.”

“How much is too much? I mean, aren’t we supposed to hold ourselves accountable? Perform the best we can?”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

“The pressure does get intense sometimes. I guess I always just thought that was part of this life. Figure skating, hockey … to be at the top of any sport, you have to work hard and never back down. Wow. I sound like Val.” As that sunk in, doubt crept up. “
Are
we being too hard on ourselves?”

Dylan grunted. “How are we supposed to tell? I don’t think my teammates go through the same thing. Sure, when we lose, Nealy tells us how much we suck and everything we’re doing wrong that contributes to the sucking, and we all feel like shit after that. But I don’t think they take it home. We’ve had losing streaks before. We weren’t happy, but we lost as a team and snapped out of it as a team.”

“Do you think these recent losses were your fault?”

He paused and then nodded. “I know they were. I made stupid mistakes, and I couldn’t stop making them. It was like the more I focused on being better, the worse I got.”

“Yeah. Totally get that. You saw me last week.” The harder she’d tried to land that axel, the more she’d fallen.

“How’d you get past it?”

“I don’t think I am. Just got lucky a few times.”

“Thinking about me.” His smile was back. Cocky on the surface, but the slight tremble in his lips gave away the insecurity he seemed desperate to hide, maybe even from himself.

The urge to deny it was there, but so was the urge to make him feel better. His confidence had been annoying at first, but now that it was gone, she wanted it back. Even if she didn’t have it all together, it was comforting to know that someone could. Dylan had been that someone. If
he
had the same doubts she did, what hope was there for anyone?

“Yes, thinking about you. Maybe you should try thinking about me mid-game.”

“Uh, pretty sure I’d miss every pass and shoot on my own goalie if I did that.”

She giggled and threaded her fingers through his, picked up his arm, twirled under it then skated backward facing him. Her grip loosened, but he held on, keeping them linked.

“I feel better. You have that effect on me.”

“Yeah … you, too. On me.” Was that coherent? All that conviction to make a nice, clean break slipped further away the longer they skated.

“So, we can’t tell when we’re putting too much pressure on ourselves. What if we tell each other? If I’m taking a loss too hard, you let me know. If you’re skating yourself to death, I give you a heads up.”

“Doesn’t it seem like we
should
know those things? But you’re right. I guess we don’t. It would help to have an objective observer.”

“Then it’s a deal. In the spirit of taking this duty seriously, maybe we should schedule some time to blow off steam.”

That sounded a lot like a date. God help her, it also sounded very tempting.

“What do you have in mind?”

Wednesday, October 8th

Vegas Indoor Skydiving. Okay, there were probably a hundred creative dates he could have planned, but somehow this one still caught her by surprise. Lori had been in the city for about six months and had seen most of what it had to offer. How could she have missed this? Granted, it was a little far from the Strip, and she spent most of her time in the arena.

Maybe she
did
need to give herself a break. That thought had never occurred to her and might never have. Good thing the man beside her, who was grinning like a little kid, had suggested it. She felt lighter already, but it was hard to tell how much of that was due to pretend skydiving and how much was credited to Dylan himself. The guy was like a walking endorphin, a natural high with kind, teddy bear eyes and a contagious smile. That type of personality didn’t survive long in figure skating, and since everyone in her life had orbited in or around her sport for as long as she could remember, it was sort of throwing her. In a good way.

They’d sat through the training video, suited up, and strapped on helmets before entering the wind tunnel, a cylinder-shaped room with padded blue walls and a giant fan in the middle of the floor. It sounded like a jet engine. Earplugs protected her hearing, but she still felt the vibration through her whole body. Matt, their instructor, shouted final instructions, and then it was time.

Dylan swept an arm toward the fan; she could go first. Always a gentleman. Or maybe a coward in this case, but she’d give him the benefit of the doubt. Her pulse picked up as she stepped onto the fence-like grate covering the fan. Matt positioned her over the center, and then she was airborne, her arms and legs spread like a starfish. The wind caught beneath her and pushed her up. Not too high, but at least seven or eight feet in the air. It was amazing. Exhilarating. The feeling of a free fall without really falling.

Each first-time jumper got only three minutes. When Matt signaled that her time was almost up, she tried a front flip and slid out of the airstream, then fell onto the padded floor of the exterior. This was way better than falling on ice. She laughed, but the sound was lost in the fan blast. What really made her feel weightless was the way Dylan looked at her. Guileless admiration and amusement as he clapped, none of the anxiety from Monday. That alone was worth the price of admission, but owning up to that, even just to herself, was scary as hell.