“Have fun, dear,” her mother called. Summer smiled. Of course, her mother would always care, and she was probably secretly thrilled that Summer would let her know where she was going.
Summer dressed warmly and trudged through the snow down to their pond. They’d had a beautiful, rare phenomenon in Afton, Wyoming, this year: the weather had been cold enough that the ice had frozen solid before the first snowfall. That left Summer with a crystal clear sheet of glass to skate on. She went out any chance she got because as soon as the first snow fell, they’d be shoveling to get a clear rink again.
She sat on a bench and pulled on her skates. She laced them up by catching each hook, crossing over, catching the next hook, all the way up, and then tying bows, double knots. The motions felt routine, comforting. As she skated onto the ice, she held her arms out and mimicked the famous figure skaters in the Olympics. She was working on her dissertation for her PhD, but if she had one unrealized dream, it was to be a famous figure skater. Scratch that, fame was irrelevant. If she could just have some training in figure skating, she’d love to be able to do all the pretty moves, the jumps and turns.
She glided out into the middle, one foot in front of the other, and then turned to skate the rest of the way backwards. She circled the pond around and around, first frontwards, then backwards, slipping one foot after the other. She was in heaven. The quiet filled her.
She considered her paper. She needed to finish the last few arguments on the Czech Republic’s reaction to communism, the annihilation of religion in their country, and then the forced rebirth, followed by free choice to return to Catholicism. She found their history fascinating. And she hoped to emphasize identity and how it related to freedom of religion, history, and family tradition.
“Summer!” Her three younger brothers came running from the house, sticks in hand, followed by two of her older brothers.
“We get Summer!” Kyle, the youngest, made her smile…usually.
“Whoa, guys. I get the ice right now.”
They stopped on the edge to put on their skates. “You’ve had it. Now play with us!”
She circled one more time, as fast as she could go, reveling in having an entire pond all to herself.
Then Kyle, Scott, and Graham rushed out to join her. They set up two goals, one on either end. Then Scott brought her a stick. Technically, it was her stick, but she’d never actually picked it up to play; someone always brought it to her. Just like today. The younger three did a warm-up lap. They were serious about sibling hockey. They were serious about all hockey.
Kyle skated up to her. “Hey, thanks, Summer. If you’re on our team, we’ll totally beat Eric.”
“I don’t know. He’s been practicing.” She winked.
But Kyle shook his head. “No way. No one can beat you.” His earnest expression made her smile.
She ruffled his hair. “Should we show Eric a thing or two?”
“Totally!” He pumped his fist in the air and then skated across the pond, shouting, “We’ve got Summer!”
The other guys huddled, and the three younger Davis brothers schemed. She cradled her stick, reminding herself of the feel.
Eric and Jed joined them.
“Is Jake coming?” she asked.
The oldest three brothers were home for the month to help out on the ranch. They all rode the rodeo circuit, and Jake especially was quite good. He was working on wrangling and, much to their mother’s unhappiness, had just started in on bulls. But he’d been distant this week, and Summer had wondered more than once what was bothering him.
Jed shrugged. “We are not privy to the inner workings of his mind.” He wiggled his fingers, and Summer laughed.
“What? What do you mean ‘privy to’? Since when did you start talking like a British lit professor?” Eric raced at him but swerved away at the last second.
“Summer will appreciate this. I’ve been working on my online lit class. We’re reading nineteenth-century fiction.”
“Oh, I do appreciate that very much. Let’s talk tonight about what you’re reading.”
They finished lacing up their skates just as the door opened and Jake headed their way, skates in hand. The house sat up on a hill, visible from the pond and within shouting distance. She smiled at the back of their home. Everyone together. How often did that happen anymore? “Jake!”
His responding grin eased some of her concern. “You gonna school us, Summer?”
“You know she is!” Kyle shouted. For a little ten-year-old, he had a lot of mouth. And all the Davises got a kick out of him.
In no time, all the Davis siblings were skating around the ice, and Summer forgave them for interrupting her solitude. Time together like this was much better.
Their mom came, holding up her phone for a picture. “Stand together now.” She waved her hands as she hurried down to the pond. “I just need a picture. This is so fun.”
The brothers groaned, but they all stood together and posed for Mom’s picture.
“Brr. It’s cold out here.” She hugged herself and then waved over her shoulder as she ran back up toward the house. “I’ll be watching from inside. Have fun, now.” When she stepped up onto the porch, she turned and called out to them. “Oh, I almost forgot! Dad wants everyone at the game tonight.”
It was Summer’s turn to groan.
“Full Davis family represent.” Mom waved again and rushed inside.
Jake draped an arm across her shoulders. “Come on, sis, how often do you get to watch a hockey game with your big brother?”
“Not often enough,” she conceded and then reached an arm around his waist to give him a squeeze. “Miss you.”
“You too.” He shimmied his skates backwards. “But now, brothers, we have a match to win!”
The three older guys huddled, and the three younger guys huddled, and Summer just watched until Kyle called her over. “You’re our secret weapon.”
“Secret, eh?”
“Well, sure. They’ve been gone. They haven’t seen you score a goal in a long time.”
They played an evenly matched game until they were forced to end in a tie because their dad said if they didn’t leave right then, every one of them would be mucking out the cow barn. They’d had some dangerously cold nights, so, with the cows sheltering inside, the barn would be plenty ripe.
Instead of taking two cars, Dad insisted they ride in the van, or the Davis-mobile as he liked to call it.
Eric muttered, “We need a cooler name for this ride.”
“Agreed.” Jake craned his neck to look out the windows.
“What’s the matter, you don’t want to ride together?” Summer teased. She loved having her family all in one place. It helped fill the void, at least for a moment. Her loneliness was real. Someday, she’d like to find someone who loved her, to be someone’s number one.
The hockey arena was packed, from the floor to the upper rafters. It looked like a sold-out game.
“This is incredible! We’ve got some Steers fans finally.” Dad was wearing a Wyoming Steers jersey, and each of the brothers sported their favorite good luck item. Summer wore a scarf, blue-and-silver-striped, team colors, but she was the least decked out of her group. Dad headed up the Star Valley chapter of the fan club, and he was a big supporter in every way. To say they loved hockey was a huge understatement. Dad’s one hope was that hockey would stick for one of his boys. So far, he’d raised a bunch of rodeo stars instead…and a librarian.
Summer smiled. She loved her job. It’s what she’d always wanted to do. A tiny part of her wondered if she’d ever get to work in a large library with a research department. But for now, while she worked on her dissertation, she had everything she wanted.
They made their way around the arena to their seats in section 55. Dad high-fived half the world before they finally arrived at their seats behind the plexiglass, the very front row next to the penalty box. Seeing the empty seat next to her, Summer belatedly wondered how Mom had avoided coming.
They got there just in time for the announcement of the players. The lights dimmed and then flickered, sending flashes of blue and silver around the arena. The music was deafeningly loud as the announcer called out the names of the starting lineup. Her family cheered, standing and banging on the glass. Soon, Summer was caught up in it with everyone else.
“Rocco De Luca!”
Her interest piqued to see the son of that nice woman she’d met the other day. He circled the ice once as they all had, but as he swung by the Davis family, his eyes caught hers. She sucked in her breath as his golden brown eyes held her captive. Instead of passing by, he circled back in a mini loop and watched her a moment more. Then he nodded and took his place running rotations with the team.
“Did you see that?” Kyle jumped up and down at her side. “Rocco knows my sister!”
She shook her head, still in a daze from the power of their shared glance. “He doesn’t know me. I’ve never seen him before.”
3
As Rocco made his rounds, skating the perimeter of the rink, he realized who the Davises were. He hadn’t recognized them at Heggs, but seeing them again in their usual spot made it easy to spot what the team called the superfan section. They were the most loyal fans he’d ever seen, always super loud. Sometimes, the dad brought a megaphone. And they talked to the players in the penalty box. But he couldn’t remember them bringing a blond, warm, and sunny-looking woman who looked about his age. He smiled. Rocco’d never had a fan stand out to him like that. She was something. And she looked nothing like the girls he usually dated. For one—as his mother would point out—she was obviously not Italian. And then his dad would add, “and probably not Catholic.” How many Italian Catholics did they think lived in Wyoming? He could tell them. Four. The exact number of people in his family.
A teammate powered into him, and he almost lost his balance. The other forward, Crandall, smirked at him. “Dude! Focus.” Crandall tapped Rocco’s helmet.
He was right. The two of them played most of the game side by side. You got into the head of your wing sometimes. And they played well enough together that he’d pass the puck to where Rocco should be before he got there.
Rocco usually got there in time. He might be one of the smallest guys in the league, but he was also the fastest. They ran through some drills, the puck gliding over their half of the ice while they warmed their muscles. The opening music started, and Rocco zoned into the game.
They were playing the Tennessee Hounds. Rocco’s friend “Zamboni” Zane Winchester was their massive defender. Their friendship went way back to their Northbrook Elite days in high school. With the push to save their old school’s hockey center and arena, he’d been working more with his old teammate. He really liked getting back together with the guys and chatting in their group message, the Pit. He nodded to Zane as they skated by each other in warm-up, but the idiot just frowned back.
Rocco laughed. He loved Zane. He searched Zane’s usual seats, wondering if little Hope had come to watch. Zane’s daughter was a doll, and each of the guys in the Pit would claim her. Heck, Rocco’s own mother would claim her. “Since you don’t give me any granddaughters,” Rocco had heard her say often enough.
The players got in position for the puck drop. Zane met his gaze and blew him a kiss. Rocco laughed and zeroed in on the black biscuit. Friend or not, Zane and his whole team were going down.
They played hard through the first period, and no one scored. The restlessness in the arena was palpable. Rocco could feel it from the fans. A great cloud of adrenaline with nowhere to go hovered over the ice like a low-lying fog. Rocco was a mess, like half his team.
He wanted to punch something or run someone into the glass. But Coach called out, “Rocco, you’ve got the promo today.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Coach frowned. His severe face and crooked nose reminded Rocco of all the reasons the guys listened to their coach.
Rocco shoved past Hooligan, who laughed too hard. Rocco stood at the ramp entrance, ready for the announcer to call him out. As a promo, the owner had started this new challenge involving audience members. Someone from the audience was called down to go head-to-head with a hockey player. If they scored, they won a new car or something. He couldn’t remember. But of course, no one ever won. And whenever it was his time to play against a fan, he spent most of the time feeling like a circus sideshow.
“And now…” The announcer’s voice thundered through the arena. “It’s time for our halftime contest of ‘Can you score on the pros?’”
The crowd went wild.
Rocco had to hand it to the owner. Fans loved this show even more than the ice ladies’ dancing. The girls all skated over to join him in the overhang.
“Good luck, Rocco.” Cinnamon smiled.
She was nice, but she reminded him too much of Millie, the woman who’d broken his heart, the woman his mama loved because she was Italian but he suspected would never know how to remain true to a guy. Millie. He eyed Cinnamon again. Same dark hair, same over-applied makeup. Same…everything. Nope to Cinnamon.
The music started up, and Rocco moved to the edge of the ice.
“Rocco De Luca!” the announcer roared.
Everyone went crazy. The lights flashed all over, the fans banged the plexiglass, and Rocco skated out, raising his stick in the air.
“And now for that lucky fan. Get out your tickets, everyone. Can we get a drumroll while the lovely Candace draws a number?”
The arena erupted in banging, stomping, and hands pounding on thighs.
“Section 55, Row 1, Seat 3!”
The Davises went crazy. The brothers hugged and jumped up and down. All except the blond woman who slowly climbed the stairs.
Ah, so they had called her seat. Was she the sister they’d mentioned? Rocco couldn’t stop the grin on his face. Then the audience started laughing.
His mug was up on the jumbotron, smiling like a goofball.
“Someone looks happy about the selection.”
The announcer better cut it out, or Rocco might go help him gain some respect.
Then the jumbotron showed him side by side with a picture of the woman, his goofy grin turning goofier by the second, and Rocco had to look away. He waved his stick in the air and shook his head. Whatever.
The De Luca clan was here somewhere. He searched their section. They didn’t like to sit up against the glass. It made it hard to spot them. Oh, wait. Yup. His mom. She sat alone for now. When she saw him looking her way, she raised her hand.
He tapped his helmet, and she tapped her heart.
Most guys had signals for their women. Not Rocco. Just for Mama. He shook his head at himself and then skated to the middle of the ice where they were setting up cones.
“While she’s getting fitted for her brand-new pair of Trinity skates, let’s go over the rules. All she has to do is get past Rocco and get the puck in that goal over there. If she does, she wins a new four-wheel-drive Jeep. And Rocco enters the wall of shame.”
“What?” He didn’t know about this wall of shame.
“I’m just messing with you. There’s no shame in losing to a nonpro…”
Rocco was ready to tell the announcer who he could lose to. He searched the crowd. Where was he?
The man waved from the platform where the mascot—a huge steer—and the girls danced.
Rocco looked away. This whole experience couldn’t end any sooner. Or so he thought, until the woman he was up against skated out onto the ice…wearing figure skates. She skated over to him as if floating on a cloud.
He slipped off his glove and held out his hand. “Hey, I’m Rocco.”
A huge ruckus came from her section. Her brothers jumped up and down and screamed. She tried to wave them away, her cheeks turning pink. When her hand met his, he smiled.
“I’m Summer, Summer Davis.”
“That your family?”
“Yeah.”
&nbs
p; “Tell him, Summer!” A young boy’s voice carried over across the ice.
“My brother wants you to know he’s your biggest fan.”
He waved toward her family, and they cheered louder.
The music started again, and she jumped. “Wow, it’s so loud.”
“Yeah. You get used to it.”
Her nose tipped up at the end. She had a smattering of freckles, and her hair was tied back now in a long ponytail behind her. He had an irrational urge to run his hands through it.
“So, you ready for this?” Rocco smiled. He almost hated to win. Maybe he’d drag it out as long as possible.
She lowered her stick to the ice, and they moved to face each other for the puck drop. “I think so.” She smiled. Her whole face lit up, and her eyes shone. Her teeth were white and straight in a gorgeous smile. He was stunned.
While he was watching the dimple on her cheek, the puck dropped, and she got it.
She was good. And fast.
“Rocco!” Hooligan’s voice woke him up.
He tore after her on the ice and reached out to snag the puck from her, but she shifted and his stick hit only air.
The audience called out, “Get her, Rocco!”
But others started chanting, “Summer! Summer! Summer!” And her family went wild.
“So you play hockey?”
“A little.” Her soft voice intrigued him. No smirk, just a quiet concentration.
He could check her, cut her off and knock her down, but that just wasn’t a real option. Time slowed as she made her way to the goal. If she knew how to shoot at all, she was gonna get herself a car and earn him a spot on the wall of shame.
Did fans ever win in these contests? He skated around to her other side, and she adjusted the puck again, keeping it out of his reach. The goal was looming. She was in range. The timer was ticking, but she still had seconds enough to win.
He took a risk and shot out in front of her to block the puck, but when she faked a swing, he lunged, and she shot. A clear shot into the goal.
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