Broken Hearts

by Rebecca Jenshak

  Nothing. Maybe he’s dead.

  “Are you alive?” I ask.

  The rise and fall of his chest continues in a slow and steady rhythm. Okay, not dead.

  While I contemplate how to handle the situation, I take in his features. Full, pouty lips, big, straight nose, and an angular jaw.

  I’ve never been this close to him. While I often cross paths with the hockey team since we practice in the same building and share the ice, I’ve never met this particular hockey player. Some of his teammates, yes, but I don’t know much about Rhett, aside from his name and now how handsome he is when he’s sleeping.

  “Hello?” I try again to get his attention. He’s the only thing standing in the way of an hour of ice time with no one watching.

  His brows pull together just a fraction, but otherwise, he doesn’t move.

  “Hey!” I shout and give him a harder poke with the stick still in my hands.

  He startles. Piercing blue-gray eyes snap to mine, but he’s slow to sit up. His shoulders hitch, and his back arches as he looks around the empty rink. “You’re the second girl to wake me up today by screaming.”

  When he stands, I hand him his stick and skate backward. “I didn’t scream. I raised my voice to get your attention.” To get you the hell out of my space. Rarely do I get the ice to myself, and he’s ruining it. Also, I resent the implication that somehow I’m at fault here. This is my time.

  “Yeah, well, at least I wasn’t naked this time.” His lips fall into a thin line, and he looks embarrassed by his confession like maybe he didn’t mean to share that with a stranger. He comes onto the ice. He’s tall, and standing in front of me he seems much bigger than he did sitting down.

  “I’m not done skating. I have the ice for another hour.”

  “You woke me up to tell me I can’t skate?” He pulls one of the hockey nets into place and drops a few pucks onto the ice. “I checked the schedule. There was nothing after four.”

  “Technically, that’s correct, but no one ever comes in late on Sunday afternoons.”

  “Technically, that’s not correct. I did today.” He smiles like he knows he’s got me. He does, but I’m still not ready to give up the fight.

  I want all the voices to hush—external and internal. And for that, I need peace and quiet.

  “I need to go through my routine without any distractions. I have a show in three weeks.”

  “And I have the most important game of my life in six days.”

  I purse my lips. I should have let him sleep.

  “I won’t say a word, and I’ll stick to this half. That good?” He fires a puck into the net without looking at me.

  “Yeah, okay.” I give in. It isn’t the solitude I was looking forward to, but at least he won’t be paying me any attention. He seems even less interested in chatting with me than I am him. “Whatever.”

  He faces me, and those stormy eyes bore into me. I think he might cave or at least offer an apology. Instead, he nods once, drops his gaze back to the ice, and starts skating around and shooting more pucks into the net.

  I find my earbuds and turn up the volume to drown out the sound of him, but it’s incredibly hard to forget he’s here. He got me all riled up when all I was looking for was calm.

  And why is Rhett Rauthruss hanging out at the rink by himself on a Sunday afternoon anyway? Not just any Sunday afternoon. They won the quarterfinals just last night. He should be out celebrating with all his teammates, just like Josie assumed.

  I’ve seen Rhett before. The same as I’ve seen most of the guys on the team around campus and the rink.

  Even if we weren’t sharing a practice facility, I’d probably be able to identify them. They’re well known and liked on campus. Since the hiring of Coach Meyers four years ago, he’s slowly built a team of insanely talented players. Several of them have already been drafted by NHL teams.

  We often practice directly after the boy’s hockey team, but they’re usually in full practice gear, complete with helmet, and a lot harder to check out. And it turns out, Rhett is nice to check out. Not my type, like at all, but still undeniably hot.

  The hockey guys are known on campus for two things—being fun to look at and hooking up nonstop. I guess three if you count the talent but honestly that gets a lot less chatter than the other two items.

  I’ve never seen the appeal that other girls do. It isn’t that I’m opposed to casual sex, but I like there to at least be the delusional hope of it being more. Hookups can lead to relationships if the situation is right. Right?

  It never has for me, but I’m holding steady in my belief that it’s possible, and I just haven’t hooked up with the right person. I know one thing for sure—Rhett and his teammates are not the kind of guys you hook up with hoping for more. That would be dumb even for a semi-believer such as myself.

  I practice my spin for a while and then go through my short program twice. I’m taking a break and watching Rhett (while trying to play it off like I’m not watching Rhett) when two more hockey players join him. They must be freshmen or transfers because I can’t place their names. One has surfer blond hair styled so neatly I never would have pegged him for a hockey player, and the other is his polar opposite with dark hair sticking out around a backward hat.

  Where Rhett was quiet and attempted to be courteous, these new additions are loud. Even with my music turned up, I can’t block out the noise.

  Josie should have stuck around. It looks like the hockey team is celebrating here today. She’ll be mad she missed this. Me? Not so much.

  I turn on my favorite song and step back onto the ice. Rhett glances over with what might be an apologetic look. I can’t decipher it through my frustration. The other two turn and blatantly stare. They speak to one another, but I can’t make out their exact words thanks to the song blasting in my ears. As I skate, I do my best to push them out of my thoughts and focus.

  In three weeks, I have my final collegiate competition. The last chance to skate, really. Sure, I could seek out local shows after graduation, but I know that once I get a real job this summer, the likelihood that I’ll have the time to dedicate to practicing, as I do now, is slim.

  So, Rhett and his hockey buddies cannot distract me. I won't allow it.

  I finally find my flow again after a couple of angry girl songs put me in the right headspace. There are few things that Lady Gaga and Taylor Swift can’t make better. I put on my program music to go through my routine once more. My legs are tired, and I'm beyond hungry, but I have to push through.

  One of the guys yells loudly—really loudly. It’s incessant, and he shouts the same thing over and over until I cannot ignore him. Gritting my teeth, I stop so I can yell back when a hard body collides with mine. I bounce backward like I hit the wall and sprawl out on the ice. My left side takes the brunt of it, and while I think I’m okay, it freaking hurts.

  When I open my eyes, Rhett is standing over me. His blue eyes are wide as he stares down at me. His mouth moves, but I can’t hear him.

  I sit up and take out my earbuds. “What the hell?”

  “I’m so sorry,” Rhett apologizes. His mouth moves in the same way it had moments ago.

  “She okay?” One of the other guys asks. He and his buddy stand back a little way, watching but keeping their distance.

  “She’s fine.” I stand and wobble. My heart races. Although, that may have more to do with my anger and the adrenaline still coursing through me.

  Rhett takes my elbow to steady me. “Maybe you should sit for a minute.”

  I rip my arm away. “I told you I’m fine.”

  Except, I’m still wobbly and I almost eat it. Wordlessly, Rhett takes me by the arm and helps me off the ice.

  “I think Jeff is here.” The guy with neatly styled blond hair says. He comes to my other side, and the two of them all but carry me off the ice with tight grips on either elbow.

  “Can you go let him know we’re coming back?” Rhett asks him. He takes over, walking i
n front of me with his hands at my waist. His large palms span my ribs, and the heat of him seeps through the thin material of my tank. He guides me onto the bench just off the ice.

  “Jordan, go with Liam. If Jeff isn’t here, call the front desk and see who’s around. We’ll be right there.”

  “I said I was fine,” I insist, although ouch, my hip throbs where I landed.

  He crouches down in front of me and hands me my blade guards. “You hit pretty hard.”

  “Yeah, I know. I was there.” The edge to my voice is lost in his concerned gaze and the pain shooting down my left side. Damn, that hurt.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  I wince as I put on the guards and stretch out my legs in front of me. “So much for staying on your side.”

  “Do you feel like you can walk, or do you want me to carry you?”

  “You can’t be serious.” A small, manic laugh slips from my lips. “You're not carrying me.”

  He nods once and stands tall. Ignoring the pain, I get up and walk ahead of him toward the trainer’s office. Every step makes my hip ache.

  Jordan and Liam are waiting for us, standing next to one of the trainers I don’t know, but I recognize the blue polo shirt they all wear.

  “Hey, I’m Jeff. Heard you took a spill on the ice.”

  A spill? I glance at Rhett, who looks down at his skates as he speaks, “I skated into her.”

  Jeff's brows raise. “That had to have hurt. There are guys on the team that couldn’t collide with Rauthruss and walk back here on their own.” He motions with his head for me to come back. “Hop up here and let me take a look.”

  Rhett and the guys linger as I awkwardly sit on the trainer’s table.

  “You three can go,” Jeff says.

  Jordan and Liam don’t need any more encouragement, but Rhett is slower to leave.

  “I'm going to wait just outside,” Rhett says. I’m not sure if it’s meant for my benefit or Jeff’s.

  I hope it’s not mine. I want him here even less now than I did an hour ago. And that’s saying something.

  “Anything hurt?” the trainer asks once they're gone.

  “My hip, mostly. Also, the left side of my face, but I’m okay, really. I’ve been hurt worse.”

  “Then there is no harm in taking a look. Lie back and roll onto your right side.”

  I do as he says, and he feels around, tenderly pressing on my hip and then raising and lifting my leg, asking if it hurts as he moves me at different angles.

  “Well...” he says finally. “I think you’re going to live, but I’m going to grab some ice packs and have you sit back here for fifteen or so.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “It is necessary. You took a nasty hit. Ice it and hang around for a bit.”

  When he walks off, I lie back and press my fingertips to the tender skin under my eye. I can hear the guys out in the hallway. The door is open, and they aren’t even attempting to whisper.

  One of them says, “How many more girls are you going to make cry today?”

  “She didn’t cry,” Rhett snaps back.

  I try to follow their conversation as they continue to poke fun at Rhett. I don’t have enough backstory to make complete sense of it, but I can understand enough to determine that Rhett is exactly the type of guy I pegged him for—a complete player. Not to mention an inconsiderate brute.

  Pity. He really is nice to look at.

  3

  Rhett

  Adam and Maverick walk down the hallway toward Jordan, Liam, and me. We’re still waiting outside of the trainer’s room.

  “What’s going on?” Adam’s worried expression darts between us.

  I bypass his question to ask my own. “What are you guys doing here?”

  “I texted them,” Liam says. “I wasn’t sure how serious it was.”

  “Having a real bang-up day, aren’t you?” Mav asks, shaking his head with a grin.

  “She’s fine.” I think. I hope. I’ve never seen someone fly through the air like that. She probably weighs a hundred pounds, and I hit her skating fast to reach a puck Jordan knocked toward her side of the rink. I was afraid it would hit her, or she’d trip over it. I should have let it go. Hindsight is a real bitch.

  “Is she still in there?” Adam points toward the open doorway.

  “Yeah.”

  “You two can take off,” Adam tells Liam and Jordan. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

  I push off the wall and slap hands with Jordan and then Liam. “Thanks for staying.”

  “Try not to make anyone else cry today,” Jordan says and then juts his chin toward the trainer’s room. “But, uh, if she needs consoling like Layla did, I’m wide open.”

  “Yeah, yeah, you’re a real Prince Charming,” Adam says and shoves at his shoulder. “How about you get some rest tonight so you can get your ass back here at six in the morning?”

  Jordan salutes him with his middle finger. “Aye, aye, captain.” He looks to me. “Later, lady-killer.”

  Adam keeps up his tough-guy act until they’re gone. His serious expression melts into a wide smirk. “Tired? Sleeping okay?”

  I glare at Maverick.

  “I didn’t tell him,” he insists, raising his hands in front of him.

  “Actually, it was Heath I overheard telling the story of your narcoleptic hookup.” Adam leans against the wall, smiling at my expense.

  “Does everyone already know?” It’s rhetorical. Of course, they do.

  Mav answers anyway. “Kind of hard to keep a story like that to yourself.”

  “Ah, relax,” Adam says. “I’m impressed in a weird sort of way. At least you’re getting back out there. And I’m glad we finally have some embarrassing stories to lord over you. God knows you have plenty on me.”

  “That’s a fact.”

  Adam crosses both arms across his chest. “So, you fell asleep hooking up with one girl, and then you came here to blow off some steam and took out another chick?”

  I rub my forehead with two fingers.

  “Is that an accurate summary of your day, buddy?” Maverick asks.

  “I fucking hate you guys.”

  Adam tosses his head back and laughs. “Who is she anyway? Liam just said a skater.”

  “I don’t know.”

  Jeff sticks his head out, holding on to the doorframe. “We’re done in here. You guys can see her if you want. Although maybe keep a foot of distance in case she feels like repaying you for the shiner she’s going to have.

  “You gave her a black eye?” Mav hoots with laughter as he and Adam walk in front of me.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket. Carrie again. Just what I need. Another girl to yell at me today. Though, to be fair, at least two of them had good reasons.

  “Sienna!” Mav calls, snapping my attention to the girl sitting on the trainer’s table. He envelops her in a hug. “Rhett didn’t say it was you, or I would have kicked his ass already.”

  “I’m fine. A little banged up.” Her gaze finds mine. She’s holding an ice pack up to her eye, and another rests on her left thigh.

  “You know each other?” I ask. Duh, obviously they do.

  “Yeah, of course.” Mav takes a seat next to her on the table. “Sienna is my favorite yoga teacher.”

  “You do yoga?” Adam asks him.

  He scoffs like he’s offended. “You should see my plow pose.”

  “No thanks,” Adam says.

  Maverick nudges Sienna. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, just a little sore.”

  “I could still kick his ass for you, if you want.”

  I glance between them trying to read the situation. Maverick is the friendliest guy I know. He’s never met a stranger and chats up anyone. He also hits on everyone, making it hard to tell when he’s really into a girl or just being his usual friendly self. For some reason, I’m hoping it’s the second in Sienna’s case.

  My phone rings again. Damn, Carrie is getting persistent.
r />   “That Carrie?” Adam asks as I silence it and put it back in my pocket.

  “Yeah.”

  “Another one of the girls you’ve tortured today or one you plan to torture later?” Sienna smiles sweetly.

  I balk. The guys laugh.

  “I like her,” Adam says.

  “All right, closing up for the day. Get out of here so I can sleep easy knowing you knuckleheads aren’t injuring yourselves or anyone else.” Jeff turns off the lights on one side of the room.

  Maverick stands and helps Sienna to her feet. She protests a lot less with him helping her, I notice.

  “Did you drive or do you need a ride?” he asks her.

  “I am fine. Honestly.”

  She hobbles, favoring her left side.

  “We’ll drop you at your dorm,” Mav says.

  And that’s that. The four of us walk out to Adam’s Jeep. I climb into the back with her, and Mav sits up front.

  “I’m really sorry.” I can’t think of anything else to say. Her left eye is starting to turn colors, and I feel like a damn asshole.

  “You mentioned that.” She smiles ever so slightly. “I’ll live.”

  I fall quiet. Mav peppers her with questions and fills us in on what a great yoga teacher she is and how she’s his favorite. I mostly tune him out and scope her out for the first time since we met.

  I must have still been drunk earlier because I hardly afforded her a second glance, and she’s worthy of a second and third glance. Even the yellow and blue starting to streak her face doesn’t take away from the bright green of her eyes. Her lashes are long and strikingly black against her skin. Her dark brown hair is pulled back into one of those messy buns girls wear and I can’t tell if it’s short or long.

  “I’m Rhett,” I say finally.

  “Sienna.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  She hums, and the smallest of smiles tips up the corners of her mouth. “Nice is not the word I would have used.”

  When Adam pulls up in front of her dorm, she opens the door.

  “Thanks for the ride.”

  “See you tomorrow in class,” Mav says out his window.