Fresh Ice

by Sarah J. Bradley

  “Because he has never had a completely platonic friendship with any woman,” Collier put his hand on her shoulder.

  “Yes, well, we’re friends. He asked for some help, and I’m going to help him.”

  “Does he know who you are?”

  Izzy focused her attention to a microscopic spot of dust on her skate blade. “Of course he knows who I am.”

  “Oh, so you’ve shared with him your impressive skating credentials, and that’s why he wants your help?”

  “Not exactly…” Izzy rubbed the skate blade with her thumb, wishing Collier would stop staring at her with his steel gray eyes. “Okay, no. He knows I’m a mom, and a widow, and he knows I’m from Wisconsin. He knows I work at Waffle House, and he knows I give free coffee to homeless people when it’s cold outside. He’s been to a couple Vanderbilt games with me.”

  “Tell me again how you don’t think you two are dating.”

  “I swear, first Cat, now you. We are friends. If we were more than that, which we are not, I might share more with him, but we are not, so I will not.”

  “Hey you don’t have to defend yourself to me.” Collier held up his hands. “You can tell people or not. We can let it be our secret. I sort of like having a secret with you. It’s like we were kids again. Only maybe,” his voice had a wistful tone, “maybe we get it right this time.” He shook his head. “So when is this event?”

  Izzy checked her watch. “He’s supposed to pick me up in half an hour.”

  “Can you still skate?” Collier’s eyes twinkled. “I mean, it has been a lifetime.”

  “I can skate rings around you, Collier James.” She grinned. “I’ve kept myself in shape. I might not be able to pull off a long program, but I can skate a few laps with some hockey players.”

  Collier laughed again. “There’s my girl! Pop always said you were the best natural talent he’d ever seen. He’d say that to your parents all the time.”

  Izzy tried to ignore Collier’s mention of her parents and hoped he didn’t see the flush warming her face.

  “Tell me you’ve contacted your parents.”

  Izzy shook her head. “I haven’t had the guts. I keep telling myself I want to wait until I’ve done something. I’m this huge failure right now and I don’t want them seeing me this way.”

  “Who says you’re a failure?” Collier slid off the bed and sat on the floor next to her. “Do you feel like a failure?”

  Izzy looked around her apartment. I love my life right now. “No.”

  “Are you happy?”

  “I’m very happy.”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  Izzy rubbed her skate blade again. “You tell me. I’ve managed to work myself up to a waitress who lives in an efficiency apartment over a coffee shop.”

  “Yeah, true. They probably wouldn’t appreciate the finer points of your new life. They were always sort of high strung.”

  “That’s an understatement.”

  “Still, you need to talk to them, even if just to introduce them to Jenna. I mean, it might be okay.”

  Izzy studied Collier’s face, not understanding the shadow darkening his normally expressive features. “It might be okay. And it might be horrible.”

  “That’s true, too. But you are never going to know until you know.”

  They do have to love their granddaughter, right? Izzy closed her eyes, her father’s final words ringing in her ears. No, they don’t have to love anyone. They didn’t have to love me. They just had to pay the bills until I won a gold medal. “Fine. Fine, I’ll do it. I’ll go this next weekend. Happy?”

  “Happy-ish. It would make me happier if you came on the road with me right now, instead of hanging out with Captain Grab Ass and his band of hockey misfits. That would make me happy, and I would make you forget all this talk about being a failure.”

  “Very tempting.” Izzy laughed out loud and punched his shoulder lightly. “But, I gave my word.”

  Collier let out an exaggerated sigh and looked at his watch. “In that case, you should get going.”

  “Yes, but first, I need coffee.” She set the skate in the box and closed the latch.

  Collier reached the bottom of the stairs. “About your parents: I sort of hate that I brought it up and I won’t be there. I could rearrange a couple things. Do you want me to stick around for moral support?”

  “Since when are you moral?”Izzy playfully shoved him. “Thanks, but I think I’ll be okay.”

  “Collier James as I live and breathe. When did you get here?” Cat looked up from her book, a delighted smile lit her face.

  “Cat Countryman. You get prettier every time I see you.” Collier hugged Cat. “Let me guess. Blue Pirate is the flavor of the month?”

  Cat tossed her head and laughed. “What brings you here?”

  “Oh, I…” Collier shot a glance at Izzy.

  “He came to see me. Collier and I went to school together. You know, when I was growing up.”

  A sharp expression flashed across Cat’s features. “Oh yeah, you grew up here.”

  “Yeah, so he stopped by to say hi. How do you know each other?”

  “Oh I used to play here all the time. Cat was good enough to give me an audience when I was just starting out.”

  “Yes, but now you’re Mr. Big Time, aren’t you? Too good for our little coffee shop.” Cat punched his shoulder.

  “What is it with you women and punching today?” Collier pretended her punch hurt. “I don’t know, I might have an opening in my schedule. Fair season is about over and I think I need some time at home.” He let his gaze settle on Izzy for a beat too long. “But now I should go.” He hugged both women before leaving through the back door.

  As the screen door slapped closed, Cat frowned. “You have to move out. Now.”

  “What?” Izzy was shocked.

  “You’ve got some kind of voodoo workin’ over all the eligible men around here.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Cat. Collier and I are just friends.”

  “Right, just friends. I’ve heard that before. Meanwhile, Collier’s willing to come and sing in this dumpy coffee shop after filling places like Second Chances. And there’s Quinn pulling up outside. Now what could possibly bring two such talented, busy, hot single guys here?”

  Izzy shrugged. “Your cinnamon rolls are world famous.”

  Cat laughed and smacked her rear with a tray. “It’s a good thing I like you. Otherwise, I would have to hate you so bad.”

  Izzy watched Quinn get out of his car, and smiled. “Well, I’m glad you like me. Quinn’s just here to pick me up for his charity event.”

  “Charity event? That is the worst euphemism for sex ever.”

  “Cat! Stop.”

  “You still owe me an image, Izzy Marks. Boxers or briefs. You owe me!” Cat called over her shoulder as she returned to her duties.

  “You owe her what?”

  Izzy blushed, thankful Quinn hadn’t heard the entire exchange. “I…uh…I owe her for my monthly coffee tab. You know, getting to be the end of the month.”

  “Okay don’t tell me. Are you ready?”

  “Yeah. Let’s go.”

  “You’ve got your skates, right?”

  “Right here.” She took them out of the box and draped them over her shoulder.

  He nodded. “I was half afraid you’d chicken out on me.”

  “Of course I’m not chicken.”

  Quinn walked her to the car. “Wait until you meet this kid. He’s so sweet. It’s almost hard to believe he loves hockey as much as he does.”

  Quinn continued talking all the way to the rink. What he said, Izzy had no idea. Her focus was on the skates in her lap. The feel of them, the familiar cold of the blades, whisked her back to her childhood. Her father, rattling on about something, as they drove to Coach’s rink. Her skates in her lap, just as they were now.

  Maybe Collier’s right. Maybe I should tell Quinn about my past.

&nbs
p; She glanced at Quinn, who continued his monologue about the event as if she were an active participant. His face was alive, more animated than it normally was. He’s such a hero for those kids.

  He’s been my hero, too.

  Maybe he could be more.

  ***

  On the ice, Quinn’s heart was always light. But today it floated as he watched Izzy move around in the small group assembled at the rink. Her warm smile made everyone feel welcome, and, though he’d done dozens of events larger than this one, Quinn wondered more than once how he’d managed to do any of them without her.

  It was easy to love her. It was almost easy to forget the sight of Collier James emerging from her building as he pulled up to get her.

  Almost.

  Trying not to obsess about what Collier meant to Izzy, Quinn spent the afternoon trying to catch her eye as she helped someone lace their skates. He wondered what memories stirred in her mind. Her royal blue eyes sparkled, but gave away nothing. If she’s nervous about anything, she’s not showing it.

  The event involved a young boy who dreamed of playing hockey in the NHL. Quinn knew, from his conversations with the parents, that it was unlikely the child would reach his mid-teens. So today, with the help of many of Quinn’s former teammates and the boy’s own hockey team, they were going to scrimmage on the perfect ice of the Bridgestone center. He would then be the honorary captain at the evening’s Predator’s game.

  It was a great day, though days like these were always bittersweet for Quinn. This kid wants nothing more than a tiny piece of the life I’ve lived. He’ll never see it, given his prognosis. He’s dying to live one minute of the life I threw away with both hands.

  This dark thought threatened to sour his mood, but a quick glance toward Izzy, who was showing some very young girls how to skate backward, cheered him. If she was trying to hide her true identity, she’s not trying terribly hard.

  Maybe she’s ready to be honest about her past.

  Am I ready to be honest about mine?

  A puck whizzed past his ear, and the buzzer signaled a goal. The boys from the youth hockey team celebrated, but Quinn’s teammates scowled at him as they skated by.

  “Geez, Quinn, at least look like you’re into this. Otherwise, I swear I’ll take over as goalie.”

  “Guys, come on, it’s for the kids.” Quinn followed them to the bench for a break.

  “Yeah, but you’re at least supposed to try.” One of the guys elbowed him. “Then again, that little blond is a distraction, isn’t she?”

  “She looks familiar,” someone noted. “What did you say her name was?”

  “Izzy Marks.” Quinn nodded at her as she waved to the bench. “She skated some in college, I think.”

  “Is she in town with the Icecapades?”

  “If she’s with Quinn, she’s already had an Icecapade or two, right Quinn?”

  Quinn let the general good natured ribbing pass by him without more than a nod and a weak smile. Even here, among friends, my reputation is too much to ignore.

  Why on earth would someone as kind and perfect as Izzy want me in her life?

  SEVENTEEN

  The day was over far too soon. Everything about the event gave Izzy joy, and she felt a certain twinge of loss when the last child gave her a parting hug.

  Not everything had been easy. The urge to fly over such perfect ice was difficult to ignore. She kept up a deluge of cheerful chatter with the parents and an impromptu skating lesson for the siblings of the youth hockey team, hoping to drive the ache in her heart away. She skated slowly, trying to calm the nervous energy in her legs. I might as well try to reign in wild horses.

  She’d never seen Quinn as comfortable as he was on the ice, with his friends and the kids. The cloud that always seemed to follow him lifted. His smiles held no echo of sadness. Funny, I never thought of him as sad until I saw how different he is today.

  What fascinated her most was his easy rapport with everyone. So often, when they talked at the Waffle House, he seemed distant, as if some huge space lay between him and everyone around him. But here, on the ice, he’s present and connected.

  He’s not looking over his shoulder.

  Briefly she wondered what past spirit haunted him.

  Now, sitting on the bench, staring absently at the empty ice, Izzy envisioned herself skating as she once had. Had I known I was going to give it up forever, would I have made a different decision? Would I have slept with Jason?

  She knew the answer. Sleeping with Jason lead to Jenna, and Jenna was the one thing in Izzy’s life she never regretted.

  “You look a million miles away.”

  Izzy startled at Quinn’s touch on her shoulder. “I was just remembering when Jenna was little. I’d take her to skating parties and school outings. It’s been a long time.”

  “You were pretty awesome with those kids. I owe you.”

  “No, I think we’re even.”

  He sat down and nudged her shoulder with his. “Nope, see, I forgot that there would be all these little kids, with nothing to do. You saved the day. I owe you big.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. Having Quinn Murray owe me a favor might come in handy at some point.”

  He checked his watch. “Look, we’ve got a couple hours before the ice crew comes in. I usually just spend the time skating. I don’t get the opportunity too often. You don’t mind hanging around for a bit, do you?”

  “No, not at all.” Her heart beat a bit faster. Some free time on the ice?

  “You could join me.” His beautiful eyes glowed hopefully.

  Calm down. He’s just being nice. “What, like be the goalie?”

  Quinn smiled, mischief glowing in his eyes. “That would be great for my ego!”

  “Oh, you think I’d be a push over?”

  “I think I’d score on you easily. Oh wait…that didn’t come out right, did it?” His cheeks reddened, something Izzy found endearing.

  Izzy laughed. “Not really. But I like a challenge.”

  Cat would be so proud of me.

  ***

  “Give me a minute, okay? I’ll be right back.” Quinn started up the stairs to the announcer’s booth. Behind him, he heard the smooth swish of blades on ice and knew that Izzy was skating slowly around the rink. “Nick, good, you’re still here.” Quinn greeted the young music coordinator who was locking the announcer’s booth.

  “I gotta lock up Mr. Murray. You and your friend should probably get going.”

  “Nick, do you know who that is?”

  Nick squinted at Izzy’s small form on the distant ice. “Nope. She’s a decent skater though. Is she with the Icecapades?”

  Probably best not to let him in on it just yet. There’s a reason she’s hiding. “I’m not sure. But look, Nick, I’d really like to spend a little time with her, on the ice. Okay?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I’m supposed to get everyone out of here. The ice crew is coming in a couple hours to get the rink ready for the Preds game tonight.”

  “Look, Nick, how about this: I have two keys in my pocket. One is for the owner’s luxury box. The other is for the bar in the owner’s luxury box.” Quinn watched Nick’s expression transition from doubt to interest to glee. “I’m sure a guy like you has a friend you’d like to maybe impress for an hour or so?”

  “You have no idea!” Nick clapped his hands together. “Won’t the owners get mad?”

  Only if we get caught. “It’ll be fine. Just be sure you leave everything the way you found it.”

  “Oh, I will!”

  “How about if you return my keys in an hour?”

  “I can do that.”

  “And Nick?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Keep the curtains in the box closed. Neither of us wants an audience.”

  Nick nodded. “You want the lights up?”

  Quinn glanced at the shadowy ice and shook his head. “No, I like it dim. Oh, you could put some music on, something mellow?”

&nb
sp; “I’m not sure what I have.” Nick rifled through a stack of CD’s. “Oh, wait, how about this?” He held up a CD marked, ‘Boring 80’s tunes chicks dig.’ “I think the guy who used to have my job used it, you know… to get chicks.”

  “Where’s he now?”

  Nick shrugged. “I’m pretty sure he got caught with a girl in one the Preds’ cushy locker room chairs. They fired him.”

  “So let’s not get caught.” Quinn spoke more to himself than to Nick. Leaving the booth, Quinn heard the first strains of Toto’s “Won’t Hold You Back” and smiled. It’s like it’s meant to be.

  He sat on a bench and tightened his laces, watching as Izzy moved to the music that would have won her a gold medal. She was hesitant, at first, as if only vaguely recalling the steps. As the music continued, she moved more confidently, her body floating over the ice. Her motions and jumps, though simplified, were clean, effortless. The years melted away. There were moments in the routine where Jason would have lifted her or sent her whirling into some fluttering, perfectly landed, throw element. Only because he’d memorized the routine did Quinn miss the elements. Anyone else would have thought her footwork was part of the routine.

  She’s still breathtaking.

  The song faded and another started to play. Quinn skated out to center ice where Izzy stood very still.

  He put his hands on her shoulders. “That was spectacular…Miss Landry.”

  She shuddered as if waking from a trance. “How?” Her voice was light and breathy from the exertion. Her eyes darkened. “How long have you known?”

  Don’t freak her out by telling her you’ve stalked her. “Call it a suspicion I’ve had for a while. The bigger question,” he circled her, “is why you’ve kept it a secret.”

  “I haven’t been really ready to talk about it. It’s been a long time.”

  He didn’t miss her hesitation. “I understand if you don’t want to share with me.”

  “It’s not you.” She leaned against the boards. “Jenna’s the only one I’ve told, and Collier, well we grew up together. My hus—Jason always said we’d be safe if we didn’t talk about it. I got out of the habit of thinking about…my past. Until recently.”

  That explains her connection to Singer Guy. Childhood buddies. I can work with that. “Look, I’m sorry if I brought up bad memories. That wasn’t my intention.”