Page 101 of Breakaway

I skipped over to Scar, threw on my shoes and hoodie, and grabbed my coat. Christmas break started tomorrow, and the weather had turned frigid. There was so much snow that the guys had to shovel the driveway each morning before we could leave. I secretly liked to watch them, enjoying how their muscles moved to toss the snow, but I’d never admit it.

“Where are we really going?” I asked Scar as we exited the kitchen. Susie was in the car, waiting when she spotted us.

“Tradition, woman!”

“No way?” I gasped, stopping and staring at her with my mouth open.

“Yep.” She grinned evilly, and I debated running back inside.

“Nope.” Scar steered me toward the car, Susie also wearing a shit-eating grin.

“I’m not feeling the greatest. I should go back and lay down,” I tried to no avail.

“It’s tradition!” Susie cheered, grinning wide at me. The Junior team had made it to the playoffs but lost in the second round.

Groaning, I buckled up my seatbelt and slunk down in my seat as they drove me toward my torture, both of them giggling in the front.

Pulling into the shop, I sighed in resignation at what was about to happen. The first year we all played together for the Cardinals, we made a pact that if we made the playoffs, then we’d do something crazy together, like dye our hair the team colors, get a tattoo, or paint our bodies and run naked through the streets. Wild guess whose idea that one was.

We’d already dyed our hair and run naked through the streets, leaving only getting a tattoo left and something I was deathly afraid of. Needles were not my thing.

“Can’t we just dye our hair again?” I asked, keeping my seatbelt on.

“Nope. It’s my turn,” Susie said from the front, giving me a bright smile.

“Ugh. Fine.”

Walking into the tattoo shop with my two best friends, I wondered how far back it was to the house and if I could make it in my condition.

“You wouldn’t,” Scar teased, giving me a look. I swear, the woman could read minds.

Susie sat down first, rolling up her sleeve and showing the tattoo artist where she wanted it. I was confused when he got out a sponge and rubbed something on her arm before telling her she was good.

“What?” I asked, blinking, afraid I was hallucinating and actually had a concussion now.

“It’s just temporary ones, goof.”

“What the hell! You guys had me freaking out for nothing.”

“It wasn’t for nothing. It was fun,” Scar said as she sat down. “Though we will get tattoos one day, but not of the school mascot.”

My heart slowed as I realized I wouldn’t be going under the needle today. Scar demanded I get my tattoo on my cheeks, so they ended up that way. One said LUX, and the other had the Blizzard logo on it. It worked to get me into the team spirit, so I counted that as a win.

Scar drove me back to campus, letting me out at the door. Walking in alone, I took in the arena that had become my second home. Things were still up in the air for next semester, depending on how many players made the J18 team for Worlds. The elite schedule ran differently than other hockey programs, allowing the players who were good enough to be drafted to teams the opportunity to play and not leave their home team mid-season.

A second-season schedule was played at a lower rate for all the players who didn’t make it. Instead of twenty-four games, there were only sixteen. It helped showcase players for college teams while reducing their risk of injury with fewer games and stricter rules on aggressive plays.

Dmitry had extended the job offer to me if I wanted it, but I wasn’t sure yet what the future held, so I couldn’t decide, which made walking in here today bittersweet. It could be the last time I coached in this arena, and that was a heavy thing to feel.

Taking a moment to breathe in the smell of the fresh ice, I savored the quiet of the rink before everyone showed up. No matter what, this had been a life-changing experience, and I owed so much to Lux.

“There you are,” Fletcher said as he approached around the corner. He stopped and looked at my cheeks, a smile gracing his lips. “When they said tattoo, that wasn’t what I expected.”

“Me either. But I’m glad. I kinda hate needles.”

Fletcher smirked as he neared, pulling me into his arms. He lifted my chin carefully; most of the stitches were gone, just a few lingering. At least my tooth was fixed quickly. That was one look I didn’t want to have.

“In a weird way, these are kinda working for me.”