Page 21 of Breakaway Hearts

Uncle Owen

“Will you teach me how to skate as fast as you?” Patrick, my ten-year-old nephew, asks as I let him into the arena. His borrowed hockey bag dwarfs him, but he insisted on carrying it himself, and he’s smiling like this is the best day ever. My brother-in-law is filming a series in New York, so my sister immediately signed the kids up for skating and hockey lessons. It was weird having them on the opposite side of the country while I’ve been at Wynchester, when they used to be a ten-minute jog from my house, so it’ll be nice to see them more. And give them a head start for those lessons.

“I can teach you how to skate,” I counter-offer.

“Me too!” Emmy, his eight-year-old sister, exclaims, gently tugging on my arm to make me go faster.

“Of course,” I assure her.

“I saw none of this enthusiasm when I wanted to teach you soccer,” Katie points out, hopefully pretending to be offended. My eldest niece, who is three years older than me, is waiting for us in the lobby, her figure skating outfit paired with flip flops.

“I hate running,” Emmy explains.

“Really?” I ask of Katie’s outfit, shaking my head at her.

“Sorry Uncle Owen, is this not proper attire for the ice?” The ‘uncle’ is her way of mocking me, when the littles don’t even use it half the time.

“You’re such a brat.” I reach over to ruffle her hair, but she evades me and uses Patrick as a human shield. It looks like she’s tickling him more than anything, but he seems to be enjoying it.

“Someone else rented the arena before us, so we have to wait for them to clear out.” She redirects the kids when they head for the locker rooms. “Come on, let’s watch.”

She wraps an arm around Patrick’s shoulders and leads him to the glass windows, knowing Emmy will make sure I follow.

There are two people on the ice; a guy in full goalie gear, and a girl in leggings, a baby blue hoodie, and a pink helmet. Her blonde hair is in braids that stick out on either side.

I’m thinking she almost looks like Madison, until she turns…and it’s her.

On the ice.

Skating.

Shooting pucks like she knows what she’s doing.

The goalie lets in a couple, but it’s like he wasn’t even trying. I’m vaguely aware of Katie explaining something to the kids while Madison and her friend gather their pucks, but then she goes again, and I don’t think the goalie lets a single puck through.

I’m not the least bit surprised when the goalie takes off his helmet and it’s Hargraves.

“Fuck,” I say under my breath.

“Language, dude,” Katie reproaches while Emmy looks at me with wide eyes.

“Shoot, I’m so sorry.” I’m normally better at cleaning it up when I’m with the littles, but we need Jason. He’s not injured, or rusty, he’s…fuck.

“Can you watch them for a sec?”

“I don’t think you can recruit players off the street, even if your team needs help,” Katie warns.

“You know we’re awesome, except for our goalie,” I defend us. “And that guy goes to Wyn U.”

“Seriously?”

“Can you…” I nod to the kids.

“Of course, go charm his skates off.”

I roll my eyes, but that’s exactly what I intend to do.

“That was incredible,” I say when I catch up to Jason at the concession stand, after he orders hot chocolates.