I assume the unease in his voice is because he had to project it over the healthy rumble of his motorbike engine but am proven wrong when a large wooden building comes into sight over the horizon. It’s a big old barn in the middle of nowhere. There could be a fancy ranch attached somewhere, but since most properties this far inland come with thousands of acres, I could be wrong.
After parking at the side of the barn, Maddox dismounts his bike, removes his helmet, then helps me with mine. Once he has them stored in his saddlebags, he shifts on his feet to face me, smiling at the shock on my face. “Have you ever heard of Troy Gentry?”
“The highest-scoring player in the history of the NHL?” I roll my eyes. “Never.”
His smile doubles before he nudges his head to the barn. “He thanks this for his high-goal tally.”
Still confused, I remain quiet. It’s for the best. If I hadn’t kept my mouth shut, I might have missed the springs of curly blonde hair pushing open the barn doors to reveal an almost full-size hockey rink hidden inside.
“Sloane!” Maddox wiggles a finger in his ear, wordlessly protesting my girlie squeal that just burst through his eardrums, before he joins my race across the dewy grass to Sloane and Saint. I’ve seen Saint a handful of times the past six weeks, but I’ve only communicated with Sloane via phone and text messages. I’ve missed her so much.
“Happy birthday!” She returns my fiercely protective hug before pulling me back so she can drag her eyes over my flushed face and wide eyes. “A six-week romp-a-thon has made you all types of nasty.” Panicked that I look like a wreck stops filtering through my head when she adds, “Hook a girl up! I need recommendations on guys up to the task. You look smoking!”
My eyes shoot to Saint, stunned Sloane is seeking reps. Her texts made it seem as if she and Saint were still going strong like Maddox and me. Clearly, I read her messages in the wrong manner. There’s so much tension brewing between them, I’m shocked the ice rink hasn’t melted.
Although Saint acts as if Sloane’s comment isn’t grating his last nerve, his tight jaw tells another story. He’s pissed as fuck, but he refuses to nibble at the bait Sloane dangled in front of him. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. His signature move isn’t well known because it’s a rarity.
Eager to ease the tension suffocating the air, I ask, “What are you guys doing here? I thought you had a big exam coming up?” My final question is solely for Sloane. Although Maddox is also attending university, he does a majority of his studies at home. Since she’s prelaw, Sloane doesn’t have the same leeway.
“Stuff exams. It’s your birthday. That’s far more important.” After slinging her arm around my waist, Sloane nuzzles her nose into my neck. “I’m also dying to see your reaction to your very first snowstorm.”
Maddox waits for my confused gaze to shift to him before he motions up his chin, signaling to someone in the shadows of the barn to switch on the lights. When the hockey rink illuminates, I’m torn between sobbing and smiling. Foam snowmen dot the ice rink, and fluffy white froth is falling from the sky.
When I step closer to the rink, needing a moment to gather my composure, Sloane’s arm falls from my waist a mere second before Maddox’s torso warms my back. “The ice under your feet is real, but unfortunately, the snowmen are fake, and the snow is made from dishwashing liquid. I’ll take you to see real snow one day, but for now, this will have to do.”
“It’s beautiful,” I say, mesmerized how the lights highlighting the rink make the bubbles pumping out of the machines above our heads shine like real snowflakes. “I love it.”
Needing an excuse for the wetness about to fall onto my cheeks, I rest my head onto Maddox’s chest and tilt my chin so the ‘snowflakes’ can land on my face. A smile curves my lips when blobs of teeny tiny bubbles splat onto my cheeks. They’re a little chilly, making it seem as if I am truly in the middle of a snowstorm.
I remain in my peaceful bubble for nearly ten minutes before the chill projecting off the rink becomes highly noticeable. Maddox moved away, lowering the heat roaring through my body by an easy twenty degrees. “Now it’s time for the true snow-day experience to begin.”
When he pulls a sheet off a snow sled, I giggle like my heart isn’t racing a million miles an hour. I’m not scared. I’m petrified I am seconds from blurting out three little words I swore I wouldn’t express until Maddox does first.
“Come on, Demi. Climb aboard. Once you’ve mastered the wimp whistler, we’ll move up to the big one.” Maddox thrusts his hand to an inflatable slide at the side of the rink. It looks like it should be hanging over the ledge of a swimming pool, but it’s lumped onto a massive circle of ice instead. “The Mad Max Mount.”
With memories of my past on lockdown and my mind ready for a new vault-load of better memories, I thrust my arms into the winter coat Sloane is holding out for me before shuffling across the ice.
One day of good memories won’t alter the horrible things of my past, but today’s moments are tomorrow’s memories.
Note for future self—ice-skating is harder than it looks.
My backside is bruised, the tip of my nose is red, and for once in the past six weeks, Maddox only gets some of the credit for my damp panties. I wore the pants and jacket kindly supplied by Mr. Gentry, but I landed on my ass so many times, the wetness of the ice eventually seeped through.
Did it make my smile any smaller the past two hours? Not at all. I loved every single minute at the skating rink. It was a true highlight of my life. I could easily go to bed now and say this was the best birthday of my life. But as luck would have it, Maddox still has a handful of activities for us to undertake today.
Stop number two is forty miles from the skating rink. It will occur without Sloane and Saint, who are currently enduring an awkward eighty-mile trip back to Hopeton on Maddox’s bike since he asked Saint to borrow his car. His poor planning exposes he was in the dark about Sloane and Saint’s switch from lovers to friends as much as me.
Sloane tried to secure herself an invitation for our next activity, but Maddox was quick to shoot down her endeavors. He said the rest of the day was solely about us, so you can imagine my confusion when he lowers the revs of Saint’s car so he doesn’t miss the turn-off for a shooting range in a country community many miles from Hopeton.
The chill of my hands weakens when Maddox curls his hand over mine before giving them a little squeeze. “The best protection a woman can have is the courage to protect herself.”
His words sting my eyes with moisture. They were beautiful and so very much on par with his personality. He wants to save me from the world, but he also recognizes he can’t do it alone.
“So, what do you say, birthday girl? Want to blow some guy’s nuts off?”
Laughing, I nod my head. “Does he have to be a paper silhouette, though? I know a few guys who need dismembering, starting with your brother, Saint.”
“Deserving, but still… ouch!” Maddox groans with a chuckle before he jogs around to open my door for me.
He’s seen me naked more times than I can count, brought me to ecstasy with his brilliant tongue only hours ago, and whispers dirty, wicked thoughts into my ear every single time we fuck, but today I blush.