Turning, I start to walk out of the room and then remember Justin needs to get his lunch, but when I turn around, I run smack into his hard chest. I know it’s him because it smells exactly like him. His hands catch my arms to steady me, and I breathe in and out, which makes it worse since now his smell is all around me.
“Um,” I start to say, and then I look up, and his brown eyes are dark with just a little gold on the inside. “You forgot your lunch,” I say softly, and he smiles a big megawatt smile. It’s a smile that lights up his whole face like you would when you win a race or, in his case, win some cup.
“It’s not my lunch,” he says, his voice soft. “I figured you didn’t pack yourself a lunch.” I’m about to ask him what he’s talking about, but then I hear a female voice calling his name.
“Justin, there you are.” I step out of his hold and take two steps back, looking over and seeing the woman from yesterday. This time, she’s dressed in black pants and the nicest top I’ve ever seen, and her hair is perfectly set. She walks like she owns the world, and it takes one second for me to realize that these two fit. This is who he’ll end up with, so it’s only logical that she would fit.
“I’ll be back tonight,” I say and make a beeline for the exit. I walk a little bit faster than normal out into the hot sun. Getting into the car, I smell him all around me. I adjust my seat and make my way to work. The SUV drives so smooth. I have no idea what to do with the radio or what button to press, so I just leave it off and get lost in my own thoughts, which go right back to Justin where they shouldn’t be.
Chapter Seven
Justin
“Great idea to get the kids new equipment,” Amy says. “Some of them have equipment that needs to be retired.” I look at her, and I’m almost tempted to fire her, but then who the hell would help run this shit.
“Have some respect, Amy,” I say under my breath as kids run out of the room like it’s Christmas morning. I walk in, looking for Dylan, but don’t see him anywhere.
“He went to his locker room,” Dan says while he helps a kid try on skates.
“Thank you so much.” One of the fathers comes to me and shakes my hand with his eyes filled with tears. “It’s more than you know.”
“It’s my pleasure,” I say, and then I point over at Dan. “He’s the one who made this happen.”
“Your parents should be very, very proud,” he says, and I smile.
I lean in and whisper, “I’ll remind my mother of that the next time I miss her curfew when I’m home.”
“Always her baby,” he says, and I nod. “Have a great day.”
“You as well,” I say and turn to walk down the hallway while I hear some of the kids freaking out.
“These are the newest skates on the market,” one of the kids says. “He has to mold my foot tomorrow.”
“This hockey stick has the best flex,” another says, and I finally find Dylan in one of the locker rooms all by himself.
“Hey there, did you get your stuff?” I ask, sitting on the bench and looking around.
“Justin, look at the new skates I got,” he says, taking them out of his bag and holding them up to me. “The laces are so white.” He looks down, and his smile fills his face.
“I saw. Did you try them on?” I ask. He comes to sit next to me and takes his running shoes off and puts his foot in one.
“Will you help me tie them?” he asks, and I get up and stoop down in front of him. “Usually, Mom helps me.”
“Does she tie them really tight?” I ask as I tighten the lace at the bottom.
“Yeah,” he says and then looks at me. “But the other dads do it tighter. Don’t tell her.”
I try not to laugh, and then my heart hurts for him to never have a father tie his skates. “I won’t tell her. My mom used to try also.”
“Not your dad?” he asks, and I look at him, grabbing the other skate and putting it on him.
“Yeah. Most of the time it was my dad, but sometimes when he had a meeting, it had to be my mom,” I say. “Sometimes, if I was really lucky, it would be my big brother.” I smile at him. “He used to come home and come to some of my games, and I would always try to score a goal for him.”
“Did you score?” he asks, not even realizing that I finished tying his skates.
“Most times,” I say. “What about you, do you score?”
“Yeah,” he says, getting up. “I even got a trophy for most goals in the season,” he says. “I got five goals in one game,” he says, and I get up.
“Wow, that’s better than me,” I say. “Walk and see how they feel,” I say. The bell rings, letting everyone know it’s time to get to your place.
“They hurt my feet,” he says, and I nod at him.
“That’s new skates for you. It’ll take a bit to get them worn in,” I say. “Let me go get my skates, and I’ll help you get ready for the ice.” I get up, and three kids come into the room who are older than Dylan.
“Is this group four?” one of them asks.
“Yes,” Dylan says, taking off his skates. I walk outside and find one of the trainers. Actually, he’s the one I picked myself. Ralph plays with me for Edmonton, and his contract is up next year. He is the best on the ice, and you can’t even try to deny it. Stats don’t lie and neither do the results once he hits the ice. He’s also known as the pretty boy on the ice, and one of the few defensemen who still has all his teeth.
“Hey, Ralph,” I call him over. “Dylan Woods, he’s in there with kids who are twelve.”
“Yeah. Did you see him on the ice?” he asks. There were five people in the stands evaluating the kids to make sure they were placed in the right level to help them get better.
“That kid plays like a thirteen-year-old. He just doesn’t have the height,” Ralph says.
“He’s eight,” I say. I knew he had it, but I had to have someone else say it so I knew I wasn’t playing favorites.
“Yeah, well, the kid has it,” Ralph says. I walk away to the room to get my bag and wonder if I should go back to him or not. I grab my bag without thinking twice about it.
Walking back into the room, I see he’s almost already dressed. He slips his jersey over his head and then steps into his skates again, and he looks up and sees the kids tying their own skates so he doesn’t say anything as he tries to tie his own skates. “You good?” I ask, and he looks at me while he tries to tighten it.
“Here,” I say, putting my own skate on and showing him how I tie it. “You grab the one on the top and pull up.” I show him, and he ties it all the way to the top.
“I did it,” he says happily and then gets up, doing the other one. He grabs his new helmet and puts his mouth guard in.
“How did you get so good at skating?” I ask.
“I use the outdoor rink,” he says. “When Mom is cleaning the rooms, she lets me skate outside.”
“She cleans hotel rooms?” I ask, and he nods his head.