“Beckett, listen for a second.” I grab his wrist and walk him to the bumper of his car to sit down.
“This doesn’t sound like a conversation I want to have.” Beckett’s tone isn’t angry, but he’s not happy either.
“I really like you. You’re so sweet, but...” I look at him, and he’s leaned back with his elbows propped on the hood, waiting to hear what I have to say. His stare is set forward, and his jaw tight, ticking. Rip off the bandage. “Beckett, I’m just not in the right head space, okay? It wouldn’t be fair to you.”
“No, what isn’t fair is letting me know what it’s like to kiss you, and then taking it all away.” He pushes off the hood and stands. “Please get off my car.”
“Beckett, I’m so sorry,” I plead, moving away as he starts the engine.
Our eyes lock. I step onto the pebbled median, and he drives away, not giving me a second glance. No blame there. I basically dumped him before we were ever a real couple. That felt awful.
My dad’s car stops next to me, and he rolls down the windows. “Kovac’s going to give you a ride home.”
“He is, is he?” I hand him my backpack, trying to fight a smile. My dad doesn’t need to know how I feel about Nick yet.
“You two have been spending some time together lately,” he says accusingly, but softly with a smile. “He came looking for you this morning in a bit of a panic.”
“What do you want me to say, Dad?” I kick at the dirt under my shoes.
“Nothing at all. Just my observations. See you at home.” He waves and drives off.
I search the parking lot for Nick. He’s leaning against his truck. His grin grows awfully wide when I approach. The sight of him with his jeans low on his hips, and his shirt sleeves scrunched to his elbows, makes my heart thump harder.
“Hey, beautiful,” he says, pushing off the truck.
“What are you up to?” I wrap my arms around his shoulders, and he lifts me off the ground, swinging me around.
“I’m not up to anything. Just thought we could hang out.” He sets me down, his hands wrapped around my body.
I search his face for any clues. Is he hiding something? The smile he tries hard to hide puts up a good fight, but eventually gives him away.
“Okay, fine. You caught me. I have a little something up my sleeve.” He walks forward, pushing me backwards. As if we both need to know, our eyes scan the empty parking lot.
“You do, do you?” I say, our noses nearly touch from his closeness.
“Depends.” He releases his hold on my waist and opens the passenger door for me. I get inside and wait for him.
“Depends on what?” I ask once he gets behind the wheel.
“Was that you letting little Beckett down easy?” The truck roars to life.
“He was hurt,” I say. “I don’t like hurting people, Nick.”
“Don’t you think it would hurt him more if you let him believe he has a chance, but you allow me to keep kissing you?” He crinkles his nose. Cocky son of a bitch.
“That’s not all I’m allowing you to do.” I bite down on my tongue.
“Yeah, I have a vivid image of you spread out on my bed.” He pulls out of the parking lot. His eyes skate over to me squirming in the seat next to him.
“I bet you do.” He pulls my lip from between my teeth.
“Got me through my morning shower, actually.”
“Nick!” I squeal.
“What?” He shrugs, looking me over as he turns down the main street in town. “You gripping my sheets before you came? Best thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Stop!” My cheeks heat so quick.
“Stop what? Soaking up the victory? ‘Cause that’s what it feels like to watch you come undone, like I’ve won a damn prize.”
I laugh to hide my horror, leaning over and resting my forehead on his bicep. He wraps an arm around my shoulder and cups the back of my head. I love the way he playfully tugs on my hair.
“You’re making me blush.”
He keeps his hand firmly planted in my hair. The truck stops at a red light, and he lifts my face, kissing me quickly before turning back to the road.
“You kiss me a lot. I’m not complaining, but I’ve noticed.”
“I don’t even realize I’m doing it,” he explains.
His simple answer slithers its way around my heart, tugging so tight I lose my breath. When I manage to control myself, I glance at him. His smile is faint, the kind that tells me he’s thinking about something.
I really hope it’s me.
We stop at the rink across town. One other car is in the parking lot, and except for the small light above the entrance, there’s barely any sign of life. The building is missing siding, and the faded paint is chipped.
So, what are we doing here? I hop out as Nick grabs his hockey bag from the truck bed.
“Where’s your favorite place to go?” Nick asks, opening the door and stepping back to let me pass.
A burst of cold air hits me. The familiar smell of ice is like a memory for me.
“I don’t think I’ve ever thought about it. What are we doing here?”
Nick leads me to the counter where an older gentleman sits doing a crossword. The old man smiles and reaches his hand out to shake Nick’s.
“Haven’t seen you in a while, boy! What have you been up to? I caught that little stunt at the season opener.”
Okay, so they’re clearly friendly.
“I’m not too proud of that, Peter.”
“Yeah, well, that little shit probably deserved it.” This makes me giggle, drawing Peter’s attention to me. “And who is this pretty little thing?”
“I’m Hannah.” We shake hands. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise, sweetheart.” He leans over the counter and looks at my feet. Well, that’s odd. “Size six, am I right?”
I grin, looking at Nick for some answers. He shrugs and gestures for me to answer Peter. “Yes, I’m a size six. That’s a good party trick.”
“Nope, been staring at feet the last fifty years. You start to learn these things after a while.” Peter bends down, and after a few seconds stands, handing me a pair of hockey skates. “I assume that’s why you’re here. It’s good to have you back, Nick.”
Nick salutes Peter. We sit down on the bench, and without thinking about it or asking any questions, I slip out of my shoes and into the skates. Nick bends down and laces them up tight enough to feel secure. He gets his on and puts my shoes with his things. He tosses me a hoodie, and I slip it on, inhaling the scent of his cologne. Damn, he smells so good.
It’s been a while since I’ve felt ice under my feet, but like riding a bike, it all comes back pretty easy. It’s like muscle memory. My dad used to take me ice skating when I was younger. We practically lived at the rink, so it was a prerequisite to growing up. After a while, I started to despise it.
“This is your favorite place,” I say, skating backwards to face Nick.
“Look at you. I didn’t know you could skate like this. Here I thought I could teach you something.” Pouting Nick is a sight to see. “What else can you do on those things?”
“Do you have a stick?” I grin.
Nick’s hand moves to his dick. “What do you think?”
“You’re insatiable.” I push on his chest, and he slips further away from me.
Skating to Nick’s bag, I grab two sticks and a handful of pucks, dropping them on the ice. I toss a stick at him, and he snatches it out of the air with ease.
“How about it, Nick? You ready to get your ass kicked again?”
“Again?” He rests his chin on the end of his stick, smirking at me.
“Do I need to remind you of the KO in your favorite video game?” I play with one of the pucks, knocking it back and forth with my stick. He watches me, and as I dribble faster, his eyebrows raise.
“Is there anything you can’t do?” He snatches the puck from me.
“Stick around and find out.” I fall
back and lean against the boards, watching Nick work the ice. Music starts to play through the speakers, and Nick’s smile grows.
“The boy’s good,” Peter states. “Skates like he owns the ice.”
“Because he does,” I say.
He shoots at a make-believe goal, and the puck cracks against the boards. His strength echoes through the rink. I’m in awe of him, completely consumed by him.
I push off and skate slowly to the middle of the ice. Watching Nick, being here with him, makes me realize we’ve gotten close, but there is so much I don’t know about him. An idea comes to me. If I want to learn something about him, I’m going to have to work for it, and this is the perfect way.
“How about we drag out a few of those goals and play a game?”
“What do you have in mind? A little one on one? You think you can hang, Hannah?” He skates to the goals and lifts them with ease. They’re small, like for Pee Wee hockey, but they’ll do. He places them across from each other and drops the puck in the middle.
“If we score, we get to ask a question. The rules are, they have to be questions we’re too afraid to ask, but something we really want to know.”
“If you want to know something, then ask me. You don’t need to hide behind some stupid game.”
“Fair enough, but I still want to play.”
He smiles eagerly. “Drop the puck, babe.”
Did he just call me that, or did I imagine it? And it’s totally not affecting me at all. Nope, that isn’t my heart banging against my chest. That can’t possibly be my palms sweating, making the grip on this damn hockey stick nearly impossible.
“You all right?” Nick asks, and I jerk my head up to see his flirtatious grin flashed at me.
I drop the puck at my skates, getting comfortable with the stick in my hands, working it back and forth until it feels like second nature. My eyes stay locked on Nick. He’s in front of the net, moving side to side like a cat hunting its prey. I skate wide, zigzagging and gaining speed. Nick skirts to the left, and I sneak the puck by him.
“Damn!” He pulls the puck from the net with his stick and turns to me before dropping it in the middle again.
“What did Peter mean when he said it was nice to have you back?” I lean on the stick. The question must hit Nick in the gut because his face falls. “You don’t have to answer. I just noticed how happy he was to see you. I figured there was a story there.”
“I came here almost every week. Even after practices, I’d come here to skate more. Peter stays in the apartment up above, so this place practically never closes.” Nick spins his hat backwards, and his eyes burn into mine. “I stopped for a while. After Mia died, I found it hard to be here.”
“Did you bring her here a lot?” I ask.
“How about we play your game? We agreed to only one question per goal.” He pulls the puck in front of him and skates towards me, dismissing the question about Mia.
He’s quick on his feet. With how fast he moves his stick, I’m barely able to see the puck as it slips across the ice. I fall as he hikes his stick and slings the puck into my goal.
“Are you okay?” He stops his skates right at my head.
I look up at him, the lights above the ice blocking my view. When he shifts, a worried grimace is on his lips.
“Did you have to hit it so hard? You could’ve taken my teeth out.” I take his offered hand, and he stands me up right, dusting the ice shavings from my jeans. “Did you forget I’m a girl?”
“I’m a bit competitive.” He pulls his bottom lip into his mouth, grinding his teeth across the skin.
“You think?” I raise an eyebrow at him. Bending down, I scoot the puck out of the goal and turn to find Nick deep in thought.
Nick skates backwards, grinning at me. “I want to ask you so many questions, Hannah, to get to know everything about you, but for now, I just want you to know something.” He nods, like he’s giving himself a pep talk.
“What’s that?” I skate to him, watching him through my eyelashes.
His shoulders loosen, and the corners of his mouth turn up in the sincerest smile.
“You’re beautiful.” He tucks my hair behind my ear and grins.
“You should’ve asked me a question, instead of wasting your shot with that.” I move my head, forcing him to drop his hand.
“It will never be a waste of my time to tell you you’re beautiful.” He skates backwards, covering his goal. “Bring your A game, Hannah.” He thinks wiggling his eyebrows will distract and intimidate me, but he’s dead wrong.
“Why, hockey?” I ask. “What is it about hockey that fuels you?”
“You didn’t make your shot, so no questions, remember?” His tongue pokes out to wet his lips. “Your rules, Hannah.”
“Fuck the rules.” My skates move just enough to have me gliding into his open arms.
“You really want to know?” He wraps his arms around my waist, clasping his hands together to hold me flush against his body. I nod in answer, earning me a smile. “I was a late walker, like really late. They were afraid I wouldn’t build up the muscles in my legs, but my dad wouldn’t take that as an answer, so he put me on a pair of skates at one and a half years old.”
“And you built up the strength in your legs.” I pick at a piece of lint on his shirt, gliding my eyes from his chest to his piercing blue eyes.
“Not exactly.” He laughs at the memory. “I held onto one of those assist bars they use for kids who are just learning to skate. I fell more than skated according to my parents, but after a while, I started to skate better than I walked. It became something I had to do every day.”
“You’re more comfortable on the ice than off.” I nod my head, understanding him a little bit more.
“Exactly.” Nick taps the end of my nose. “Now, what’s something about you I wouldn’t know unless you told me?”
“Are you sure you want to know?” I fight the smirk forcing its way onto my face. “I’ll tell you, but it may make you think differently about me.”
His eyes widen and the curious, fear staring back at me makes it even harder to say what I’m going to say.
“Okay, here goes nothing.” I take a long, deep breath, before spilling my secret. “I’m fascinated by serial killers.”
At the moment his brain allows him to process what I’ve said, my laughter is uncontrollable. He releases his hold on me, turning away like I’ve slapped him.
“What?” I grab his arm and force him to look at me. Did I say something wrong?
“I’m being serious, Hannah.” His features soften as I gaze up at him. “I told you something personal and I was hoping you’d share a little something about yourself.” A happy sigh escapes me as he brushes my hair behind my ear. “I know you. I’ve known you, but I need more.”
“Okay...” I smile, happy to give him what he wants. “But let the record show, I really do like serial killer documentaries.”
“Duly noted. Now, tell me something that really matters.” His hand covers my heart and it’s like the world turns into a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes. I can’t help but feel alive in front of this boy.
Worrying my bottom lip, I step in front of him, gripping tightly to the hem of his shirt. “I don’t think I know who I am sometimes.”
“What do you mean?” His hands find a place on my shoulders. They don’t weigh me down, but somehow their presence grounds me.
“We’re supposed to have this identity by now. Take you for instance. You know who you are and what’s in your future. Hockey.” I raise my eyebrows, daring him to argue that point. “While I have no idea who I am now.”
“Now?” He draws out the word, the same uncertainty I hear is strong in my heart.
“I feel like I’ve lost my place in the world a little bit and while I’m lost, it feels like everyone expects me to know where I am.” Saying these things out loud feels cathartic in a way. I hadn’t realized I had been feeling this way until I let it out.
“
It’s okay to feel a little lost. We all feel that way sometimes. Lucky for you, you have me to always find you.” He leans down and grazes his lips against mine. Painfully slow and everything I needed.
Maybe I’m not lost. Maybe I’m right where I should be.
“Hannah, you are brilliant and beautiful. You’re a friend and a daughter. Your favorite color is pink and I know this because every pair of shoes you’ve owned since the third grade has a hint of that ridiculously girlish color in them. I know when you’re upset with me, your eyebrows pinch together”— he brushes his finger over the spot— “right here.” The corners of his lips pull up and I run my thumb over the bottom one. “You don’t like it when someone assumes something about you. You have a foul mouth which is one of my favorite things about you. You say what you’re feeling when you feel it.”
I’m at a loss for words. Everything he has said floods my mind and heart. I’m frozen in time, allowing his sweet declaration to warm me. He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me flush against him. His hand cups the back of my neck, massaging the stress from my body.
“Okay, enough of that cute stuff.” I discreetly brush the tears, I’m shocked to feel tremoring on my eyelids, away. “I think it’s my turn, right?” I push off of his stomach, sliding backwards on my skates.
“It’s okay for you to feel uncomfortable by everything I said,” Nick calls out, finding his place in front of the goal. He makes it look miniature in front of his large frame. “But I needed you to know that even when you don’t know who you are, I do.”
Holy shit! I need to switch gears away from the heavy and lighten the mood.
I square my shoulders and skate the puck towards him, never dropping my eyes from his. I stop suddenly a few feet away. Nick’s eyes narrow, curious what I’m doing. A quick inspection shows Peter isn’t around. I drop my stick, the puck tucked between my skates. I lift Nick’s sweatshirt, flashing him my boobs. Like I’ve hypnotized him, he steps towards me, and I kick the puck into the goal, celebrating like I’ve just won The Stanley Cup.
He ignores my excitement. His eyes are plastered to my chest, making me realize I still have his sweatshirt lifted. He skates up to me, licking his lips. I’m forced to look up, straining my neck to keep our eyes locked. His beautiful blues always seem to surprise me.
Under a Different Sky Page 17