Chapter 4: Five Days to Find Ice

Aurora's POV

The moment I stepped out of the BKL club, I called Julia.

Before I could get a word out, her wail came down the line. "Aurora, you will not believe this — somebody actually reached into BKL and got Vincent fired."

"Do you have any idea how much the investor paid to poach him? And now he's been fired!"

"The new man, Daniel, is a moody bastard who loves a nasty little jab. Compared to him, I'd take Vincent and his insatiable perfectionism any day. At least Vincent never stabs you in the back..."

She stopped short, suddenly realizing I hadn't said a single thing since the call connected.

She cleared her throat, embarrassed. "So how did your interview go? Daniel definitely didn't give you a shot at staying, did he?"

"Don't be discouraged. It has nothing to do with your ability — it's entirely because of what Daniel's like..."

I cut her off. "Daniel said he's willing to give me a chance. If in a month my test results show I'm at backup-player level, he'll let me stay."

Julia shrieked in disbelief. "Really? That's wonderful!"

"You'll be fine, Aurora. When I'm back I'll buy you a drink to celebrate."

Once I hung up, the joy that had filled my chest seemed to fade.

I'd taken what Julia said to heart. Daniel wasn't an easy man to deal with. He was willing to give me a chance, but there was no guarantee he wouldn't spend the whole training period measuring me against the others.

I'm thirty already. There's no comparing me to those twenty-somethings in peak condition.

But was I going to give up the chance because of that?

I shook my head at myself.

No, I wasn't.

This was my only way out of Liam, and no matter how hard it got, I had to grit my teeth and see it through.

As long as I worked hard enough, Daniel wouldn't make trouble for me for no reason.

With that, I let out a heavy breath and quickened my pace toward the parking lot.

Liam hadn't come home for dinner again tonight, but he'd sent me a message.

[Staying with Ethan tonight, not coming back.]

I stared at the message beside Liam's profile picture and felt how absurd it was.

How long had it been since he'd last messaged me of his own accord?

So long that I'd started to think his phone didn't have that function.

A few days ago I would have happily typed out a long reply. But now...

I didn't answer with a single word.

After dinner I called Ethan as usual.

It took a long time to connect, and when it did his voice was thick with annoyance. "Mom, why are you calling me now? I lost my game!"

I was about to apologize and soothe him when Liam's voice came through from the other end.

He seemed to be calling, gently, "Vivienne."

I spoke urgently into the receiver. "Ethan, who are you with?"

Ethan yelled, "Don't start, I'm coming," and the line went dead.

My grip on the phone tightened, and I searched my memory for the name Vivienne.

The woman who'd been sending Liam flirtatious texts.

The prodigy of Liam's club.

I immediately scrolled for the video I'd recorded of Liam's phone screen that day, in a fit of rage.

I stared at line after explicit line, and the hand holding the phone shook uncontrollably with the force of my grip.

That name just now — I must have misheard.

However much of a bastard Liam is, he would never let Ethan meet Vivienne.

Either way, I needed to push harder and get into the club as soon as possible, to become a backup player with a steady income.

Only then, when it came time to negotiate the divorce with Liam, would I have a chance at custody of Ethan.

I was up before dawn.

This morning I planned to get a three-kilometer run in before heading to the club to train with Daniel.

At nine sharp I was standing outside Daniel's office door.

Nervous, I knocked three times. No response.

I knocked three more times. Still nothing.

Just as I decided he hadn't come in, his voice came from inside. "Come in."

I pushed the door open carefully, walked slowly toward him, and stopped in front of his desk.

Daniel glanced at me, pulled a one-month targeted training plan from a drawer, and handed it to me.

"This is the plan I've drawn up for you. You're no longer young and your conditioning isn't up to scratch, but you're an Olympic champion — you've got more experience than these young athletes."

He stood, a flicker of cold amusement passing through his dark brown eyes. "That said, every club has its own rules."

"BKL's investor is a generous man, but his generosity stops at this club's athletes."

"And right now, you're not one of them..."

Daniel paused, his hand landing on the plan I was holding.

He flipped to the last page himself. "You're welcome to use the equipment room anytime. Just clean up after yourself when you leave."

"But the ice is a consumable, and an expensive one. You're not a registered athlete here, so you're not entitled to use it. You'll have to find your own ice to train on."

I stared at the list of conditions laid out for me, one by one, my fingers tightening.

So this was his way of making me give up quietly?

But whatever the obstacles, as long as there was the slightest chance left, I wasn't going to let it go.

I raised my eyes to his. "I'll figure something out myself. I won't put you out."

Daniel's mouth curved, but there was no trace of a smile. "Then until you find a suitable rink, you'll be doing equipment training only."

In the weight room.

Daniel's voice was deafening.

"Back squat, box jump, deadlift, heavy dumbbells — five sets each, sixty seconds per set. Anything over the time counts as a fail!"

Sixty seconds a set?

Even at my peak I couldn't have been sure of finishing inside that window. Daniel's standards were beyond harsh.

When I didn't move, he looked at me with contempt. "What's the matter? Can't do it?"

"Then walk away on your own. I gave you the chance — if you can't take hold of it, that's not on me."

Right. The chance had been given. I had to take hold of it.

I rushed to the equipment and forced my body through movements that had once been etched into its muscle memory.

Even with my body at its limit, I still didn't finish inside Daniel's time.

He stopped the watch on the final set and looked down at me. "Sorry. You didn't pass. You'll be staying late tonight — two hours."

Breathless, hands braced on my knees, I tilted my head up at him. I wanted to say something, but in the end not a word came out.

Daniel watched me and his mouth split into a grin. "Oh, and you have five days to find a suitable rink. If you don't find one in five days, there'll be no way for me to put you on the ice."

"Without on-ice results, you could score perfect on the equipment and you still wouldn't stay."

Finding a rink I could train on within five days was no small thing, especially with so little money in hand.

Daniel left, and I stayed alone in the weight room, training three more hours.

Drained, I lay on the floor of the weight room, gasping for air.

I don't know how long I lay there before I sat bolt upright, opened Instagram, and posted that I was looking to rent ice time. On the price, I gritted my teeth and offered the absolute maximum I could afford.

But I knew that money was still nowhere near enough to rent a decent rink.

By the time I left the club it was already dark.

Liam still wasn't home tonight — this time he actually sent a video.

It was him and Ethan building Lego. The audio hadn't been muted, and Liam's aggrieved voice came through.

"Aurora, you really are an irresponsible mother. Ethan cried all night because you weren't there for him, and today I had to drop everything I was doing to keep him company."

Ethan sat at the toy table across the frame, head down, focused on the Lego in his hands, apparently unaware that Liam was filming.

Seeing Ethan sitting there all alone, so small, my heart ached terribly.

Had I done the wrong thing?

If I overlooked the affair, Liam seemed like a decent husband.

Should I give up my dream of going back to the ice, for Ethan's sake...

While I sat there dazed, Ethan's voice suddenly came through the video. "I want number 121."

As the words landed, a woman's hand reached toward Ethan, and the next second the video cut off.

I lowered my eyes to the video waiting to replay, my grip on the phone tightening.

No. I hadn't done the wrong thing.

Liam did that on purpose.

He wanted me to feel guilty. He wanted me to slink back and be a housewife again.

This time I absolutely would not let him have his way.

On the third day of Daniel's brutal equipment training, the post about renting ice finally got a reply.

The person added me privately and sent me the rink's exact address along with their terms.

After looking it up online, I nearly screamed with excitement — a professional hockey training facility, bigger even than the one at the club. The only catch was that it was out of the way, and training hours had to be after eight at night.

That was probably why they were willing to rent it to me at that price.

After Daniel's session ended I called a car and went straight to the address.

When I got out, a man in a black trench coat stood outside the rink, broad-shouldered and narrow-waisted.

Up close, I realized it was the man from the bus stop.