Break the Ice

Chapter Four

J A C K S O N

The alarm sounds from my bedside and my hand is thrown out from the covers to hit 'snooze' before it even rings a second time. I contemplated falling back asleep until the alarm went off again but I internally knew it would throw off my timing and I would end up being late.

Least to say is, I wasn't a morning person by choice.

I rub the remaining sleep from my eyes and sit up, taking a big stretch to soothe my aching muscles. Last nights game had worked my body into overtime. They were some tough opponents and everyone had to give 110% if we wanted to stay ahead of them.

I kick the sheets down and swing my legs over the edge of the bed, I get one more good stretch before turning to make my bed. It doesn't take me long to throw on a sweat outfit and collect my hockey gear.

I make my way through the hall of my house and then stop by the living room when I see my dad in his armchair with a tablet in his hands. His glasses rest on the bridge of his nose and his eyes are squinted, clearing focuses on whatever he's watching.

"Morning' Dad."

He sits up in his chair and removes his glasses, "Hey kid, where you off too?"

"I reserved a private session at the rink this morning. Figuring I get some practice in before it gets crowded  with the other ice sports."

"Smart. I'm watching the broadcast from last night, looking for anything you could work on. Care to hear real quick?" He offers. I smile and give him a nod. I place my bag down and go to squat by his chair.

My dad was my biggest supporter and never in the negative way. It was his dream for me to go pro, which is part of the reason we moved to Colorado hoping to catch the eye of the state's team.

He's not like most parents who forced their own hopes and dreams onto their kids. It was more of a shared dream. I wanted it all just as badly. My father was my role model, in fact, he had a shot at the pros when he was younger too. Until he suffered a serious leg injury that left him with a permanent limp.

He points out some minor mistakes and informs me points where I wasn't using the proper technique. During my backhand shot, my dad points out the positioning off my feet and explains how I'm too closed off. I make a mental note to work on those today during my session.

——-

I push the door open to the corridor and take a few steps out. My heart beats as if I've been playing in a game when all I have done if put on my hockey gear. I'm not all suited up like I would be in a real game since it's a private session.

The light were already on and my eyes squint as I walk closer. But the sound of someone already skating brings me to a halt. My plans are derailed when I see a girl skating around the rink. She must be a figure skate with the way it looks like she's performing some sort of routine.

My eyes followed the girl as she slid across the slick surface. Her wavy brown hair flowed down her back like waves in the ocean, and she had a certain glow about her as she skated.

I couldn't help but watch in awe at her elegant movements. Even though I should be the one on the ice practicing, I proceed to lean on the edge of the rink. However, as I do so I elbow my hockey stick that was also positioned against it. It falls to the ground and makes a clattering noise that echos through the building.

The girl immediately comes to a halt, her skates digging into the ice as she turns to me. She stands there like a deer caught in headlights. Since she makes no moves to speak, I decide to.