2. Colt - Her - present day

“This is just a trial lesson, honey.” I adjusted my rearview mirror so I could see my daughter sitting in the backseat of my truck. She was pleasantly kicking her feet, looking out at the colorful autumn trees and skyscrapers lining Lake Shore Drive, seemingly clueless that I was an anxiety-riddled mess as I drove us to my rink. “That means if you don’t like it or you don’t like the coach, you can get off the ice at any point and it doesn’t even matter, okay?”

“Okay,” she replied in a chipper tone.

Easing to the red light, I looked back at my daughter again. “You’ll be honest with me, right, Lucy?”

“Right!” She gave me a sweet smile. She looked cute today, with her dark hair pushed back with little clips and ending in tiny pigtails. She was dressed in the pale pink ballet wrap sweater, little skating dress, and tights that I picked up from the pro shop on the way home from hockey practice the other day. I tried to make her wear a jacket over her outfit because there was now a permanent fall crisp in the air, but she refused, and I eventually gave up.

Nodding, I forced myself to smile back at her despite the pressure building up in my chest making it feel tight as hell. Jesus, I was more nervous taking her to a practice than I was for my own NHL games. “You excited?”

“Yes! I’ve always wanted to figure skate,” she gushed, clasping her little hands together.

Her use of always made me crack a grin. She was only five, so how long could she have actually been wanting this? She already knew how to skate. She’d been on the ice with me and my buddies since she could walk. But she’d never had any formal lessons, she’d never actually figure skated . That sport was a whole different beast. It was a beast that I was afraid of exposing her to.

Damn.

There was that pressure again.

I rubbed at my chest, trying to ease it away.

The rink is a good place , I reassured myself. It’s where I found friends, where I found purpose .

But I couldn’t seem to shut out the little voice of warning in the back of my head.

You know how bad it can be.

You’re not okay.

You’re not okay.

You’re not okay.

Nope.

Cutting myself off right there.

That was a long time ago.

I needed to focus on the good side of rinks.

Growing up, my weekends were full of playing mini-sticks in the lobby, stuffing my face with concession stand popcorn, and taking and making stupid bets with my hockey buddies.

Sure, that innocent fun slowly turned into teen trouble– those dumb bets to blow kisses to figure skaters turned into taking a bet to kiss her. Which turned into sneaking around to kiss more… Then sneaking around for even more.

I grew up here.

We grew up here.

Well, not actually here – this wasn’t Centre Ice Arena back in Canton, Michigan. But all rinks were roughly the same. Arcade games lined the rubber lobby floors, cold metal stands stretched up on the sides of the ice, that same hockey bag stench always hung in the air right when you walked in.

And then there were the people: The old geezers that talked shit at the boards during games and then hit up open skating each day at noon, the beer leaguers that re-lived their glory days on weekday nights, the TimBit hockey babies that fell like dominoes, the Mini-mites through Midget Major players, the Snowplow Sam’s learning to stand, the beginner through senior level figure skaters, the ice dancers… And the coaches– the ones who truly enjoyed spending their time with kids and loved their sport… And the ones who were backed into the position, only taking the job for the money.

It was all the same.

Same storylines, different cast.

The hockey guys trying to get bigger and hit harder.

The figure skaters striving to be smaller and jump higher.

The joy of playing that slowly turned into the pressure to perform.

Round and round ‘til each group aged out or got burnt out.

Shit … My muscles locked up as I stared at the rink. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to bring my daughter here.

“ Daaad! We’re here! Let’s go!” Lucy yelled from the backseat.

I guess it was too late to back out now. Blowing out a resigned sigh, I unfolded myself out of the driver's seat and rounded the truck to let her out. She was small for her age and my truck was still too high for her to jump down from. I’d secretly miss the day she stopped needing me to help her out.

But as soon as her feet hit the cracked parking lot cement, she didn’t wait for me. She took off in a sprint toward the entrance.

“Lucy Grace Conover,” I scolded. I caught her in two strides, grabbing the handle of her pink backpack to lift her off the ground. She kicked her feet aimlessly in the air. “What do we say about parking lots, huh?”

“W-we have to h-hold h-hands,” she grumbled through chattering teeth right as a gust of cold wind blew into us.

“That’s right.” I arched a skeptical eyebrow at her. “You’re not cold?”

“N-no! You’re just slow. B-because you got a lead butt,” she accused, practically shivering.

I snorted. “Me? Lead butt? Who taught you to say that?” I knew the likely answer.

“Uncle Kappy,” she mumbled, her lips tugging up a bit.

“Yeah, well, next time he says that, ask him who won the All-Star race last year,” I said, fighting off a smirk. “And the year before that, and the year before that.” The only reason I still bothered showing up to the NHL All-Star events was to put Kappy back in his place.

She released a reluctant giggle and kicked her feet more, motioning for me to put her down.

This time, she reached for my hand, and we trekked to the entrance together.

There’s still good here, I repeated to myself as I pulled open the heavy glass door. We had to risk the bad if we wanted to go after anything good in life, and Lucy needed some good. I had to bet on this. I had to believe this place could be good for her because I wasn’t sure what else to do.

As soon as we entered the rink lobby, Lucy tugged on my hand. “Look Daddy,” she whispered. “It’s you!” She pointed a delicate finger at a small Windy City Whaler’s calendar posted on the bulletin near the main office. “And Uncle Kappy! And Uncle JP!”

“Yupp,” I said with a soft chuckle, scratching the back of my head. “We practice here, honey.”

Her brown eyes went wide as saucers. “I’m skating on the same ice as you?” She came to games occasionally, but she’d never been to one of my practices before– it’d probably bore her to tears.

“Well, we practice on the back sheet of ice, way back there.” I motioned toward the back of the building. “You figure skaters won’t even notice us hockey boys,” I told her with a wink. I hoped she wouldn't notice any hockey boys for a long, long time.

Housing our practice ice, a state-of-the-art gym upstairs, a solid pro-shop, and two other sheets of ice for youth sports, the Coliseum Arena was a massive building in downtown Chicago. While the walls were decked out in our team colors– white, dark blue, and light blue– beyond that, the average person wouldn't know we practiced here, which was by design. It kept things peaceful– as peaceful as they could be for an NHL team.

“The figure skaters are over there.” I pointed to Rink 1 on our left where some figure skaters were circling the ice.

Seeing that a squirt hockey practice was in full-swing on Rink 2, I pulled my hat lower. Signing autographs or taking pictures with kids wasn’t a problem, but I wanted to avoid conversations with hockey parents that’d pull me away from watching Lucy skate.

Hans, the rink manager, caught my eye as he shuffled back to the main office. He raised a hand in greeting and gave a rare smile to Lu. Lucy waved back shyly.

At close to eighty-years-old, Hans was still built like a hockey player, and probably still strong as an ox, but his movements were slowing down, and it was sad to see. I could still picture him twenty years ago, reprimanding me, Kap, and JP for getting into trouble back at Centre Ice where he used to be the rink manager. He had a way of shaking his head in disappointment that made players button it up and get back to work.

When JP caught wind that Centre Ice was folding a few years back, he pulled some strings for Hans to get this job. It was honestly the least we could do considering the three of us practically tortured the man with all our pranking and shenanigans through the years. I think he secretly missed us after we left Centre Ice though, because he kept in touch with us through the years, always shooting off a text or two of advice after a bad game or a congratulations after accomplishments.

Hans was actually the one I talked to when setting up this lesson for Lucy. He reassured me that the figure skating club here was starting to gain some traction, and that every coach employed here had to run trial lessons before taking on students to make sure they fit the Coliseum’s standards. He told me this club was different from Centre Ice, where he had no control over employment.

Lucy took her little white figure skates out her backpack and pulled them on her feet, then waited for me to tie them up.

Last year, I brought home a new pair of hockey skates for her. She made an “ew” face and said they were for “smelly boys” – I should’ve known right then that I was in trouble, but I just thought it was funny. The offended look on Kappy’s face when she said that was priceless. She’d been using a toepick ever since– despite Kappy and JP continually trying to lure her into hockey by showing her women’s hockey games.

“You ready?” I asked after finishing one skate.

She was practically bouncing on the bench with excitement. “I’m ready. Now I’m skating and you’re in the stands. This is like a flip-flop day!” she quietly exclaimed.

A genuine laugh escaped my lips. “Yeah, flip-flop day.”

What she didn’t know was that we’d be “flip-flopped” permanently here pretty soon.

My professional career was starting to come to an end– I wasn’t in denial about that like some guys. I was actually secretly looking forward to the day I retired. I still loved home games. And I loved playing. Hell, I loved winning . But… It wasn't a secret that I was starting to dread away games. My head just wasn’t in those games at all, and my coaches noticed.

While I used to love road trips– flying out with my buddies, seeing new cities, upsetting the home crowds when we won…. Now I was just nervous the whole time because I hated leaving Lucy for multiple days in a row.

Maybe I’d feel differently if I had a partner because then Lucy could stay at home and sleep in her own bed while I was gone. The trips wouldn't be as big of a disruption for her. But because it was just me and Lu, she had to go to my parents when I left, and it really wasn’t a secret that Lucy did not like that arrangement

When she was younger, I don’t think she noticed my absence as much, but now it felt like I was breaking her little heart every time I left– and that broke my heart.

When I finished lacing up her skates, she hopped to her feet, already comfortable on blades, and grabbed my hand.

“Are you ready?” she asked, glancing up at me with a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

“Yeah.” A shaky laugh escaped me. “I’m a little nervous, baby.” A little was an understatement. My knees suddenly felt wobbly.

“What for?” She giggled.

“For you, silly.” I gave her hand a little squeeze. “You’ll tell me if you don’t like it, right?”

“Right.” She gave a firm nod.

“We can try a different sport or activity. Anything you want, okay?”

Completely ignoring me now, she continued pulling me toward the rink door.

Pushing inside, the cold air blasted at us and the usual hum of the rink filled the air.

Two other little girls were walking toward the opening in the boards with their mothers in tow. Those two girls looked like they were already friends, and they were dressed differently than Lu. They had on stretchy leggings and matching zip-ups.

Shit, did I already fuck this?

I rubbed at my chest again as we waited for the buzzer to go off that signaled the start of the next session.

“You think I’ll be good?” Lucy asked. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, suddenly looking nervous. I hated that she was feeling any sort of insecurity.

My knees cracked as I bent down so I was eye-level with her. I took both of her gloved-hands in mine. “I think you’ll be brilliant,” I said, my breath hanging in the cold air. “Besides, you’re Colt Conover’s daughter,” I said with over-the-top confidence.

She rolled her eyes, making her look more like a teenager than a five-year-old.

“And if you’re not brilliant, then who cares?” I shrugged.

Her shoulders and face relaxed a little, but she was still slightly trembling, and I couldn't tell if it was from nerves or the cold.

“But don’t worry, you’ll be great,” I added with a grin. “And I bet after a couple lessons you’ll be able to beat Kappy in a skate race.”

She giggled. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” I said, standing to my full height now that she felt a little better.

The mothers of the two other girls smiled at me. I gave a nod and had to push away the slightly awkward feeling and the usual guilt that seeped in over Lu having a dad here doing this instead of a mom. I think she was still too young to really take notice, but I hoped she wouldn’t mind when she did.

“Okay, it said that your coach will come out here and talk to you all before your lesson.”

The buzzer went off, signaling the start of her lesson, but instead of excitement, her face dropped. With a panicked look, she motioned for me to kneel back down to her level.

She curled her little hand over her mouth and whispered: “I think I have to use the bafroom.”

She was suddenly shifting her weight and crossing her legs.

“Oh.” I blinked at her, then searched around for the women's restroom. “Let’s go quick.”

“But what about my coach?” Her face scrunched in worry. “She’ll be mad.”

“No she won’t.” And if she is, then she’ll be fired before she’s ever hired . “You can join after, no big deal,” I said calmly as I led her back into the lobby toward the bathrooms.

Lucy darted into the women’s room while I stood guard.

When she finally came back out, she bit her lip nervously. “You really don’t think my coach will be mad?”

“Not at all,” I said confidently. “I’ll tell you a little secret,” I said, shoving the rink door back open for her. “I always have to nervous pee before I skate, too.”

Her lips twisted like she was trying not to laugh. “Don’t say pee,” she reprimanded me. “It’s baff-room.”

“Right, right. I forgot.” I smirked down at her.

She rolled her eyes again, but a smile pulled at the corners of her mouth.

“Alright,” I walked with her up to the opening in the boards, “I think they’re right there,” I said, pointing to the two little girls across the ice.

She let out a shaky breath and nodded. Her shoulders were hiked up almost to her ears.

“Hey, Lu,” I said, pulling her warm brown eyes up to mine. “You didn’t miss anything important. You’re already a great skater. You got this.”

“I got this,” she repeated quietly.

“And if you don’t got this… We can try hockey?” I said, giving her a hopeful smile.

She rolled her eyes again. “I am not a hockey player, Dad.”

“But if you wanted to try–”

She shook her head. “I am a figure skater,” she said with determination.

“There’s my girl,” I said proudly. “Now get out there and show ‘em what you got.”

She nodded firmly and then took a step out onto the ice.

I kept my eyes on her as I walked toward the small concession stand, feeling pride bloom in my chest over how strong she looked as she glided across the ice with her arms stretched out by her sides.

Barely taking my eyes off her, I ordered a hot chocolate from the teen manning the concession stand. I never noticed how cold this rink was because I was always the one breaking a sweat out here. Now that I was standing still in here, the cold was unpleasantly seeping into my bones.

“That’ll be uh… two… two fifty,” the teen boy stammered.

I handed him a twenty, still straining my eyes to see Lucy across the ice.

“Um… Are you…”

I looked back at the teen expectantly.

His eyes widened. “You are him.”

Cracking a grin, I put a finger to my lips in a shush motion. “Just here to watch my daughter. Keep the change. Have a nice day, kid.”

He nodded quickly. “Yeah, yeah, okay. Thank you, Mr. Conover, sir.”

I tipped my cup at him before striding over to the bleachers. Taking the stand’s steps by two, I climbed until I reached the top where I could lean against the railing. I wasn’t about to bring a blanket and no way did I want to sit my ass on the freezing cold metal.

Scanning the ice, I caught sight of Lucy again. The instructor was kneeling down on the ice and moving the girls’ feet so they could feel the correct edge for three-turns.

Lucy stuck her tongue out while she concentrated hard, trying to complete the move. It was just a simple three-turn, but I had to stop myself from clapping for her.

When her eyes drifted over the stands and finally landed on me, I gave her a big smile and thumbs up, making her giggle.

My chest finally loosened. I almost chuckled aloud as I took a sip of hot chocolate. I’d been stressed out all day over this ? I completely overreacted. Lucy was having a good time. This was a great idea. Maybe one of my best ever.

But when her Coach stood back up, I realized I spoke too soon.

What the…

No… That couldn’t be…

I squeezed my eyes shut for a second and rubbed my eyelids. Because I must’ve been seeing things. The stress of the day must’ve been catching up to me. So her instructor had the same dark brown hair, so what? That she wore in a side braid that ended in a low bun, the exact same way she used to wear it?

Taking a deep breath, I opened my eyes again and squinted at the figure across the ice, trying to see better.

And then she smiled.

My cup slipped through my fingers and splattered to the ground.

The cold air froze my lungs.

It felt like I was slammed on my ass by a cross-check. The kind that rocks your world, steals your breath, makes your stomach churn angrily.

No .

It couldn’t be.

No, no, no.

That’s not… My hands gripped the railing. It wasn’t actually her standing there… right?

I dropped my head and closed my eyes again.

My nerves were just getting the better part of me.

She was just in my mind because this was figure skating.

Anxiety could do crazy things to the brain– that was a fact. I was seeing things. I was placing her here in my mind. There’s no way she was actually standing on the ice with my daughter.

But looking down at her again, it was obvious.

The same rich brown hair pulled back with wispy pieces falling out around her face. The same delicate features, reserved smile, and pale blue eyes, clear as day, even across the ice from me.

She was bundled up in coaching clothes– sleek sweatpants, multiple zip-ups, and a scarf– but she couldn't hide her stride, the way she moved so elegantly as she skated. Every single skater’s stride was unique. I'd know hers anywhere, any day.

It was her.

Meredith Bennett.

Shaky nerves coursed through my body as I charged down the steps to end the lesson. To take my daughter away from here, away from her .

But as I reached the opening in the boards, I caught sight of Lucy laughing.

Lucy looked… happy .

She seemed to be actually enjoying herself. She was smiling and high-fiving the other little girls. And I instantly knew I couldn't just take her off the ice. Not when there was a chance she was making friends.

My anxiety was quickly replaced by frustration. Ripping off my hat, I raked a hand through my hair. That tense bubble in my chest now felt like it was about to explode, because I had no clue what to do here.

This whole figure skating venture was an effort to work on Lucy’s confidence because she was dealing with bullies. I never ever would’ve thought bullies would be a thing at this age, but boy… was I fucking wrong.

I’m not exactly sure when it started because she wouldn’t tell me, and that just made me feel like even more of a failure as a dad, but I suspected it’d been going on since the first day of school.

After the second week of classes, I sat in my truck in the pick-up line and spotted her waiting for me by the curb. As I watched her, I caught her wiping tears off her cheeks, and alarm bells went off in my brain. The damn pick-up line seemed to move slower just to spite me, and it was fucking torture watching her standing there struggling and not being able to do a thing about it. When I finally got to her and asked her why she’d been crying, she wouldn’t say a word.

The next day I called up the school and had her move classes, and I thought things improved.

The very next weekend, girls invited her over for a sleepover, which I thought was a great sign. She seemed nervous about going, but I tried to build her up, thinking this would be good for her, thinking this was how you made friends.

But that just proved how clueless I was about growing up in the girl world.

I was shocked when I got a call around midnight from Lucy crying so hard that she couldn’t even make out real words.

I drove like a mad-man over to that house, and when I saw her tear-streaked face in the foyer, it felt like I’d be slashed at the knees. A violent thrum of protectiveness coursed through my body as I immediately grabbed her into a hug, warding off everyone else.

I completely ignored the two girls with their heads down in shame and the mother rambling off a shitty apology, and it was a damn good thing a father wasn’t present, because I definitely would’ve been in a fight that night.

Because half of my little girl’s hair was cut off.

And I felt like it was all my fault.

I wasn’t sure what the fuck I was supposed to do. About the bullies, or about her hair, and I wasn’t close with any women that I’d be able to talk to about it. If I called up my mother, I had a feeling Lucy would cry even harder. My mother and Lucy never really saw eye-to-eye. My mother claimed she was just more of a “boy mom.” She had a harsh outlook on life, and her delivery was off-putting sometimes. She’d probably end up yelling at Lucy for letting it happen to her. So… no. I couldn’t talk to her.

The next day, I took Lucy to a salon, hoping to fix the situation. I guess I just didn’t realize the only way to fix it would be to have it all cut evenly just below her chin.

When I heard her crying that she wasn’t pretty anymore, it broke my fucking heart. I was so fucking lost on how to fix this.

So, I did the one thing I swore I’d never do from the day I found out I was having a baby girl– I signed her up for figure skating.

It’s just… I knew someone a long time ago that said she only felt beautiful on the ice. It was the only place she felt special and strong and fully herself. It was the only place in the world that she felt she could take up space, the only place she felt she belonged . I thought it was a long shot, but maybe it’d work for Lucy, maybe it’d give her some confidence.

It was just ironic that the person who said that, the person I’d been thinking of when I signed Lucy up for this lesson… was currently standing on the ice with her, giving her instruction.

Grasping the cold railing with both my hands, I dropped my head as the memories flashed through my brain, a supercut of all the good and bad mingling together. A flash of sadness pressed into me, suffocating me.

Nope.

I couldn’t go there.

That was practically a different life ago and I couldn’t afford to look back.

I blew out a steadying breath.

This would be fine.

It was one lesson. Only a half hour.

Then we could go on and never see each other again.

I didn’t want Lucy to get hurt.

And Meredith Bennett hurt me worse than anyone else in this world. I gave her my heart over a decade ago, and she just tossed it aside. I was man enough to admit that I was never really the same after that.

So, no. I would not let her coach my daughter after today, even though she was the best damn figure skater I ever knew.

I’d take Lucy to a new rink and I’d never run into her again.

I’d never think of her again.

My eyes slammed shut and I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth could crack.

Because I knew I was lying to myself.

The reason I was even fucking here was because of a memory of her.

And now she worked at my fucking practice rink.

Since when?

Nope. No questioning her presence, dude. Only focus on what you can control, I told myself.

I scrubbed a hand down my face and adjusted my hat.

I couldn’t do anything right now. My hands were tied.

They’d have the lesson, then I’d ask the front office about other figure skating coaches in the area. And if Lucy got along with the other two girls, I’d talk to their mothers and convince them to take their little girls wherever we went.

This would all work out for the best.

Because Meredith Bennett was dangerous.

And I’d do anything to protect that smile on my little girl’s face.