Fire on Ice (Fire on Ice Series)

by Madison, Dakota

  Too bad that caring only went one way.

  When I saw white cotton flowing in the distance, I knew it had to be my sister. Who else would wear a white skirt and blouse to a hockey game? Not that I was dressed much better. Everyone else seemed to be wearing hockey jerseys and jeans. I did the best I could to blend in with my black jeans and black tank top under a flowered blouse. It wasn’t exactly hockey attire but it was the closest thing to casual I had in my closet.

  “I can’t wait to see your hockey hunk,” Zelda said as she grabbed my elbow and we headed into the stadium.

  “He’s not my hockey hunk,” I corrected.

  “But he is a hunk, isn’t he? Otherwise, why are we even here?”

  “I guess you could call him a hunk,” I said already exasperated.

  “And you want him to be yours, don’t you?” she prodded.

  “I suppose,” I admitted.

  “Well, there you go.”

  Our seats were close to the ice and right behind the players. It was kind of intimidating to be so close to everything.

  And a lot colder than I expected.

  I should have trusted my gut instincts and brought a jacket with me. I crossed my arms over my chest in an effort to keep myself warm.

  “Do you want me to get beer?” my sister asked. “I think you need to loosen up a bit.”

  I didn’t drink very often but I wasn’t against it. I just didn’t have much opportunity. I wasn’t exactly a social butterfly.

  “Okay,” I agreed finally and my sister grinned.

  “I’m really starting to like the new Taylor. Whatever your hockey hunk is doing, he should keep doing it.”

  “I told you he’s not my hockey hunk,” I repeated.

  She actually rolled her eyes at me. “Whatever you say.” Then she rose and headed toward the concession stand.

  I didn’t want to tell my sister that I was uptight, because being in the arena, looking out at the ice, reminded me so much of Austin. He was the star of our high school’s hockey team and every girl in the school had a crush on him. Boy, did I think it was something special when he asked me out. He could have had any girl in the high school and he chose me.

  I didn’t realize until much later that he chose me with a very specific purpose in mind and I fell right into his trap.

  I shivered at the memories being in a hockey arena evoked. Would I always link hockey with the hell that Austin put me through? If so, what would that mean for ever having any kind of relationship with Kian?

  Music started playing and an announcer said over the loud speaker: Ladies and Gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to the Wildcats. There was mild applause for the opposing team with a few boos and heckles thrown in for good measure as the Wildcat players skated on to the ice.

  Then the announcer said: And now give it up for your home team, the Firestorm! The entire audience jumped to their feet in wild applause. There was hooting, hollering and whistling as the Firestorm players skated out.

  My eyes were immediately drawn to the jersey that read Kavanagh (# 23). When he skated by me, he made a point to give me a big grin, which made my heart flutter a bit.

  When my sister returned, she handed me a small cup of beer and I noticed she had an extra-large cup for herself.

  “Don’t look at my beer like that,” she said defensively. “I’m not driving.”

  I frowned. “We both walked over here.”

  “And last time I checked you can’t get a ticket for drunk walking. Not that I’d get loaded on one beer.”

  “One enormous beer,” I corrected.

  She moved her eyes to the ice. “So, which one is he?”

  “Number 23, Kavanagh.”

  She scanned the ice until her eyes fell on Kian. “He’s huge,” she said. “He’s even bigger than…”

  When I glared at her, she didn’t finish her sentence but I knew she was going to say he was bigger than Austin. My one and only ex was massive at 6 feet and nearly 200 pounds but Kian was even taller and more solid. Kian dominated the ice like a rock star dominates the stage.

  I could feel my heart start to race and my pulse started to work overtime as my thoughts kept drifting back to Austin. It had taken me three years to stop thinking about him and everything he did to me and now it was all flooding back.

  The first few times Kian was on the ice, he looked relaxed, like he owned the ice; he seemed a lot more relaxed than I felt sitting there watching. Then about halfway through the first period he made a play that brought the fans out of their seats and the atmosphere in the arena turned electric. The crowd had come to see Kian perform and he didn’t disappoint them. Even though he failed to score, the speed and grace he displayed with the puck put the opposition on the defensive.

  During the second period, the entire arena seemed brimmed with tension. Things on the ice were heating up. An old man seated next to me started listening to a play-by-play on a small radio as the action was live before us on the ice. The announcer said the Firestorm went on the power play and that Kian quarterbacked several good scoring opportunities. Apparently his ability to thread the needle and make tape-to-tape passes through defenders was unparalleled. Just when the fans thought a play had been defended Kian made a seeing-eye pass to an open player.

  Late in the second period, I heard the announcer state that Kian showed a strong two-way play by winning a neutral zone draw then working the forecheck to strip one of the opposition defenders of the puck off the dump in. Kian picked the pocket of the defenseman coming from behind the net and caught the goaltender flat-footed for what looked to be an easy goal. I heard fans sitting behind me as they raved about the tenacity, skill and hard work it took to make the play, and then the soft goal scorer’s hands it took to beat the goaltender high on the short side.

  Things were happening quickly and there was a lot going on I didn’t understand but between the other fans comments and the radio announcer’s commentary, I tried my best to keep up with the game.

  During the third period Kian seemed to really be in a zone. The announcer said that he scored off a broken play at his own blue line, where he beat the opposition defense man to a loose puck and was ahead in the foot race to the goal. Kian teed up a slap shot at the top of the circle that completely overpowered the goaltender. I heard the coach of the Firestorm say to his assistant that the shot was a big league blast that no one would have stopped. Just past the fifteen minute mark of the third period Kian decided to take things into his own hands and wow the crowd.

  I listened more intently as the announcer said the Wildcats had dumped the puck into the Firestorm zone to make a change allowing the Firestorm defenseman to set up behind his own goal for the breakout. Kian skated behind the net taking the puck. He beat one forechecker just inside his own blue line, then another around the center line. He skated to the off wing boards where the last forward attempted to check him then slid the puck through the defender’s skates and ducked the attempted check. He regained the puck and cut across the blue line as the first of the two defense men attempted to chase down the puck. Kian put the puck out in front of himself, hoping the defenseman would bite and go after the loose biscuit. As the defenseman made his move toward the puck, Kian reached out with one hand on his stick and expertly pulled the puck into his skates. As the defenseman changed tack and attempted to hit Kian he used his skate to kick the puck past the stunned defenseman and break in on the goaltender. The off side defenseman came diving across, attempting to break up the play, but Kian used a toe drag move to elude the sliding player.

  With only the goaltender to beat, Kian’s eyes were on the prize. He unleashed a wicked wrist shot that rang off the post and into the top corner of the goal. The crowd went crazy and hats rained down from the stands, recognizing Kian’s third goal of the game. Apparently, they were acknowledging the tradition of the hat trick.

  After being mobbed by his teammates Kian retrieved the puck from the net and skated toward the Firestorm bench to high fiv
e the rest of his teammates. As he approached the glass where Zelda and I were seated he tossed the puck over the glass to me and winked on his way by. He had sent the building into a state of frenzy but that wink let me know he was still thinking about me.

  By the time the Firestorm lined up for a defensive zone faceoff, I felt dizzy from all of the craziness and excitement of the game and needed to get some air. Between the overwhelming anxiety I felt as my thoughts drifted back to Austin and the awful end to my senior year of high school, and the fervor Mr. Fire on Ice was creating in the arena, I had had enough.

  “I need to get some air,” I said to my sister, who to my surprise was engrossed in the game.

  “What?” she nearly screamed. “Now? There are only a few minutes left in the game.”

  “Yes, now.” I insisted. Not only was I a bundle of raw nerves, I was starting to feel like I could pass out at any moment.

  “Do you want me to go with you?” My sister looked at me with concern in her eyes.

  “No, just meet me out by the ticket window. You should watch the rest of the game.”

  “Okay,” she said but her eyes were already back on the ice.

  I pushed my way past the people in the seats between me and the aisle and then headed up the stairs toward the exit. I didn’t see what happened but I heard the crowd moan as the Wildcats scored. I could hear the broadcast on the radio at the popcorn stand and the play-by-play guy said Kian had stood up in the face off dot allowing the Wildcat center to win the draw cleanly. According to the commentator Kian remained standing like a statue in the faceoff circle as the Wildcat scored. As I made my way through the crowd, I could hear guys shouting. “What the hell was that?”; “What are you doing Kavanagh?” and “Get your head in the game, 23.”

  I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that Kian had seen me get up to leave and it had distracted him.

  I nearly fell over a few peoples’ feet as I rushed out of the arena in an attempt to escape. By the time I got outside, I could feel sweat pouring down my face as I tried to take a few calming breaths of the fresh fall air.

  Tears began to stream down my face as I realized I was still trying to run from my past. I was still trying to escape the pain of my senior year and Austin’s betrayal. Being in the arena seemed to trigger all kinds of emotions in me that I had tried desperately to bury deep inside.

  As the crowds started to file out of the arena, I scanned the sea of people looking for Zelda. By the looks on their faces, I assumed that whatever happened with Kian when I left had been rectified. The fans were all smiles.

  Finally, I spotted my sister’s white skirt and I waved so she could see me. As soon as she spotted me, she hurried over to my side.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, worry lining her face.

  “Honestly,” I replied. “I’m not sure.”

  “Well, you better get sure because Kavanagh almost lost the game because of you.”

  “What?” I stammered.

  “Kavanagh must have been watching you because the minute you got up and left, he totally fucked up. Luckily, he got his head back in the game and scored the final goal and they won. Some of these fans might have taken out their anger on you if they had lost.”

  “I’m sorry. I just had to get out of there. I kept having flashbacks of everything that happened with Austin.”

  “For someone who wants to be a psychologist, you don’t do very well when it comes to your own mental health.”

  “You know the motto: do as I say not as I do. I plan to practice that approach. Besides, I’m not going to be a clinical psychologist. I’m going into experimental psychology.”

  “Is it bad that I don’t even know what that means?”

  “No,” I said and hugged my sister. “Thanks for being here with me.”

  “Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

  As soon as I let my sister go, I could see Kian in the distance. He was walking toward us. He looked freshly showered and he was wearing tight fitting black jeans and a white Henley that was tight enough to show off his bulging muscles.

  “There he is,” I said to my sister and I pointed toward Kian. “And his name is Kian. You don’t have to keep calling him Kavanagh.”

  “I kind of like it,” she smiled. “It makes me seem like a real hockey buff.”

  I shook my head. “There’s nothing about you that makes you seem like a hockey buff.”

  “Don’t be a hater,” she joked.

  As soon as Kian spotted me, I could see a huge smile overtake his face. He was beaming at me and his glow warmed me from the inside.

  “Oh, my God,” my sister whispered as Kian got closer to us. “He could be the most gorgeous guy I have ever seen.”

  I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as Kian approached. My sister was right. Kian was gorgeous. He seemed to get better looking every time I saw him.

  Kian opened his mouth but just before he could say anything, a petite red head bounded over to his side and grabbed him by the elbow. She was wearing the tightest and shortest pink skirt I had ever seen on a girl. The material barely covered her butt cheeks. And she had on a pink v-neck sweater that was so tight and so low cut, there was absolutely nothing left to the imagination.

  Kian immediately tensed when the red head touched him and I could see him swallow hard. The girl was hanging on Kian so possessively, I knew immediately that they were intimate with each other.

  “Who’s that?” the red head spat as she flipped her head in my direction. The girl would have been attractive, pretty even, if she didn’t have on so much make-up. It made her look like a kid playing dress up with her mom’s face paint.

  I could feel anger boiling up inside of me and I immediately knew it was more than just this situation. It was everything that had happened before, with Austin that I had never released.

  I took a step toward the red head. “Who are you?” I spat right back.

  I could feel my sister’s hand touch my elbow in an effort to rein me in but I was already too far gone to be pulled back.

  I could see Kian try to pull away from the red head but she was strong and held her grip on him. She even moved in closer to him and made sure to stick her ample chest out for my benefit.

  “Kian and I have a date tonight, don’t we, babe?”

  Kian looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die and part of me wanted to push him into that hole and throw dirt on top of him. I didn’t need his crap and I certainly didn’t need someone, who was clearly already taken, especially if he was taken by a girl who looked like she looked.

  I didn’t want to be judgmental but the girl looked like a tramp.

  I glared at Kian. His normally brilliant blue eyes looked dull and deadened. And the smile he had when he saw me was reduced to a hard line on his face. It was as if the tramp had sucked all of the life out of him in one fell swoop.

  “Is that true, Kian? Do you have a date with her tonight?” I made sure to emphasize the word date to make it sound as dirty and sordid as I had a feeling it would be.

  He didn’t respond. He just kept staring at me with his empty eyes. As mad as I wanted to be at him, the look on his face and his empty eyes broke my heart.

  “When I agreed to come to your game, Kian, I didn’t realize you had a girlfriend.”

  “I don’t,” he muttered so softly I could barely hear him.

  “You don’t?” I repeated and looked at the red head. “Does she know that?”

  “We’re not exclusive,” the red head said as if she was proud of the fact that she was sleeping with Kian and probably the rest of the team.

  The thought of Kian being with her, touching her and kissing her the way he had touched and kissed me, made my stomach churn. I wanted to run and hide in the hole I had dug to protect myself from just this kind of thing. But I still had a few things I wanted to say to Kian.

  “Are you sleeping with her?” I caught Kian’s gaze and glared at him. He didn’t
look away as I expected him to. He took everything I was dishing out like a man.

  Kian nodded in response to my question.

  “When was the last time you slept with her?”

  “Last week,” Kian said hoarsely like the words were getting caught in his throat.

  When I looked over at the tramp, she gave me a self-satisfied little smile.

  “Before or after we met?” I asked.

  “Before,” he said.

  “But she thinks you’re still going to sleep with her. Why is that?”

  The red head turned so she could see Kian’s answer to that question.

  Kian heaved a small sigh. “Because I led her to believe I might.”

  I nodded. Even though I could have easily slapped Kian I was so angry, I could see by the look on his face he was in enough pain. I decided to take the high road instead.

  In the sweetest voice I could muster, I said, “Thank you so much for the tickets. My sister and I enjoyed the game. I hope the two of you enjoy the rest of your evening.”

  I turned to walk away but then I heard Kian say, “Wait.”

  When I turned back around the tortured look on Kian’s face nearly made me gasp. “Why did you leave the arena before the game ended?”

  “I was hurt by a hockey player and being in that arena tonight reminded me of him. I thought you might be different but I was wrong. You’re just like him.”

  I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes and I quickly turned away before the waterworks started. I could hear my sister’s voice as she said, “You’re a fucking asshole. Stay the fuck away from my sister, do you understand?”

  Then she grabbed my elbow and led me back toward my dorm.

  Seven

  Kian

  I ripped my arm from Shawna’s grasp.

  “Ouch,” she cried but I didn’t care. Everything was completely fucked. I wanted to blame her but it was totally my own fault. I should have told her at the bar on Thursday that I didn’t want to be with her anymore.