Worth The Wait

𝟏3|𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓

𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐓

The ice is unforgiving. I've taken hits from guys twice my size, felt the sting of a puck slamming into my ribs, but this—this is different. It's not just the exhaustion creeping into my limbs, or the way my knee aches in protest. It's the precision. The expectation. The way Lucie watches me like a ticking time bomb, waiting for me to ruin everything. Again.

"You're too stiff," Lucie snaps, skating past me as I stumble through the footwork. "You're not fighting off a defenseman, River. Loosen up. Flow with the ice."

"I am flowing with the ice." My voice comes out gritted, my patience fraying. "Or do you just enjoy nitpicking?"

She exhales sharply, skating backward so she can face me. "I enjoy not falling on my ass when you lose balance."

I exhale through my nose, flexing my fingers, trying not to let the frustration sink in. I should be better than this. I hate being bad at something. But no matter how much I tell myself I'll get it, my body doesn't respond the way I want it to.

"Again," Lucie says, nodding at our coach, who watches with a neutral expression.

We move into position. I brace for the lift. Lucie pushes off, her hands gripping my shoulders. For a second, I think I have it—until my knee wobbles. I try to correct, but it's too late. She slips. I let go to keep from dragging her down, but her blade catches, and she lands hard.

"Dammit, River!"

I offer a hand, but she pushes herself up, shaking me off. I roll my jaw, biting back a sharp remark. You'd think I tried to drop her on purpose.

"If I can't trust you to hold me, we can't do this," she snaps.

"Well, maybe if you weren't so damn rigid, I wouldn't—"

"Oh, so now it's my fault?" Her voice is sharp, cutting. "Typical. You screw up, and suddenly everyone else is to blame."

A nerve sparks in my chest. "That's what you think? That I'm just some careless idiot who doesn't give a damn about getting this right?"

Lucie crosses her arms, breathing hard. "I think you don't like feeling out of control."

"And you do?" I shoot back. "You're gripping onto control so tight it's a wonder your knuckles aren't permanently white."

Her jaw tightens. A muscle in her cheek twitches. There's something else in her eyes—something past the irritation, the exhaustion. A shadow of something deeper.

"You have no idea what it's like to have something taken from you," she says, quiet but sharp. "To have your entire career thrown off course because someone else was reckless."

The words hit like a cold slap. My stomach twists. This isn't about training anymore.

I take a step closer, lowering my voice. "You talking about me?"

She doesn't answer right away. Just looks at me, something stormy in her expression, before she exhales and shakes her head. "Forget it."

But I don't. I can't.

She skates away, calling for a break, and I'm left there, heart pounding, realizing that whatever grudge she has against me—it runs deeper than I ever thought.

The tension sits heavy in the air, thick as the cold pressing against my skin. Lucie disappears toward the boards, shaking out her wrists, and rolling her shoulders. Like she's trying to work me out of her system.

I don't follow her. I should. I should go after her, demand to know what the hell she meant, why she looks at me like I'm some ghost from her past she wishes would stay buried. But instead, I stay in the center of the ice, flexing my knee, willing the ache away.