Chapter 6: A Dream You Had

Aurora's POV

Monday afternoon, Daniel took the BKL team to the rink for practice.

He didn't object to me coming along.

I assumed that during regular training hours I was allowed on the ice by default.

But I wasn't arrogant enough to think he'd prepare gear for me, either.

So, pleased with myself, I hauled that ten-year-old set of equipment out of my trunk and headed back into the rink — and Daniel stopped me at the door.

He fixed me with a cold stare, his eyes dropping to the gear in my arms, and spoke with contempt. "You planning to skate in those antiques?"

"Aurora, from what I hear, your husband is very rich. Don't tell me he can't afford one set of equipment."

My grip tightened on the bundle. "I'm in the process of buying new gear. I—"

Daniel cut me off with a cold laugh. "In the process of buying?"

"So your husband doesn't support your return to the ice, does he?"

He leaned in toward me. "Makes sense. A married woman with a child should put her family first. You spend every day soaking up club training — you must be neglecting your husband and child."

"Which makes it perfectly reasonable that your husband refuses to pay a cent toward your training."

He stared at me, a flicker of mockery in his eyes. "Aurora, if I were you, I'd go straight home and be a good wife and a good mother, and put an end to all this foolishness."

I lifted my eyes to his, which were full of derision. "I'm not going home. You said it yourself — you'd give me one month. The month isn't over. How do you know I can't do it?"

Daniel straightened and stepped back, putting distance between us. "That's right, I said it. But I also said the BKL ice is for official team members only. Are you one?"

"But I need ice time. As my coach, you should give me a chance to get on the ice—"

I hesitated, then let my pride go. "Please. I'll clean the rink after, if that's what it takes. You have to give me a chance."

Daniel gave a soft scoff, his expression shifting.

A long moment passed. Then, as though he'd settled something in his mind: "Fine. I'll give you a chance. But only one."

The moment I stepped onto the ice in ten-year-old gear, something in my blood came instantly to a boil.

But before I could savor it, the mockery started up around me, undisguised.

"That gear's been out of production for years. Trust her to find a set."

"Can't afford equipment and she wants to learn hockey. That junk on her will crack open if someone hits her."

"I hear she's thirty and still wants to be a substitute. If she actually makes the team I'm afraid I'll kill her by accident."

Daniel seemed to enjoy hearing me ridiculed. He made no move to stop it.

I stared at Daniel — from the moment Vincent was suddenly fired, to Daniel dropping in out of nowhere, to the fact that he'd meant to cut me and then made an exception and let me stay at the club.

Behind all that apparent kindness, he'd been making things hard for me the whole time.

The deliberately raised difficulty in off-ice training, the ban on the club's ice, the endless refrain about going home and being a housewife…

He didn't really want me to stay. He wanted to use this one month to make me see my real situation and go home of my own free will.

And Liam hadn't tried to stop me coming back to the rink once during these weeks of training. So he and Liam were in this together?

Before I could work it out, Daniel's voice rang out across the empty rink.

"All right, ladies, that's enough chatting. Time to train."

"Today's on-ice work is the same as always — skating, puck control, passing and receiving, shooting, one-on-one battles, and live simulation."

"You'll drill the techniques I taught you. Pairs. One minute per set. Go over and you add extra."

Then Daniel clapped his hands. "Come on, come on, everybody move!"

The women paired off and spread across the ice. Only I stood where I was.

Daniel glanced at me. "Look at my girls. So much energy."

He pointed at a pair battling for the puck, the implication plain. "Hockey is the most physically demanding sport there is when it comes to contact."

"Which is why hockey players are almost always under twenty-five…"

Daniel drew the words out. "Because once you're older, a high-intensity hit puts you in shock on the spot."

He arched an eyebrow at me. When I didn't react, he went on. "Since you don't have a partner, you'll train on your own."

"Three sets of straight-line sprints, three sets of crossover turns, three sets of hard stops and backward-skating transitions."

"One minute per three sets. Over time counts as a fail and you add three more."

I stared at Daniel. The standard for a real athlete was one minute per set. For me it was three sets per minute.

He wasn't trying to teach me at all. He just wanted me to see my own shortcomings and back off.

When I didn't move, Daniel strolled over and leaned on the boards, watching me like a man at a show. "Go on, Aurora."

My grip tightened on the stick. I wasn't going to quit.

The more he wanted me to see my weaknesses, the more I wanted to show him how badly I wanted back on the ice.

Ten minutes later I finished the last set, hands braced on my knees, gasping. Sweat ran down my forehead and dripped onto my lashes, blurring my sight.

The mockery rose again.

"Her technique is so old. That's been outdated for years."

"Thirty and she wants back on the ice. Dream on."

"Training like that, her knees'll be ruined."

"Can't you tell? Daniel has no intention of coaching her."

Daniel looked at me with displeasure. "You went over a minute on every set. Three more of each. Go."

I steadied my breathing fast, shook off the noise, straightened up and pushed off for a second round.

In the last set my injured knee gave way. I went down hard on the ice.

Laughter burst out around me.

"Can't even do a move that simple. Pathetic."

"Actually her speed's not bad — it's the form that's off. With a little coaching—"

"Enough, let's go. We'll miss lunch."

I clutched the stick, jaw clamped shut, and looked up at Daniel, who was enjoying the show.

He strolled over unhurriedly, crouched down to my eye level. "You haven't got the mechanics down, so your speed won't come up."

"That set was only two minutes faster than the last. So give up, Aurora. If you can't meet my standard, you can't stay."

I gripped the stick hard and tore my helmet off with my other hand. "So, Daniel — did Liam tell you to do this?"

"Drive me out, make me give up, so I never set foot on this ice again!"

Daniel's face changed. Then he stood with a cold laugh. "I don't know what you're talking about. I treat everyone exactly the same. This is my method. If you can't keep up, you're free to leave whenever you like."

"I'm only offering advice. Take it or don't."

He made a show of checking his watch. "That's enough for today. Per our agreement, you'll clean this place up."

"If you insist on staying at the club, I expect you to meet my requirements at Friday's ice session."

"Otherwise, even if I want to give you a chance, there's no way to keep you here."

With that, he left the rink without a backward look.

By the time I finished cleaning the BKL rink, it was dark outside.

I drove alone to the rink I rented.

I was exhausted, my legs trembling faintly, my injured knee half numb, but I couldn't give up.

Friday night, I was going to leave Daniel with nothing to say.

I put on my gear, strapped on my helmet, pushed off my blades. Accelerate. Sprint. Backward. Deep turn. Backward crossover transition.

Thud. I slammed down onto the ice again.

The pain was so sharp I couldn't make a sound.

I lay on the ice staring at the lights at the top of the rink, and a voice seemed to jeer in my ear: [Give up, Aurora. You're thirty. Going back to the ice was just a dream you had. Give up…]

I clenched my fist, unwilling, wanting to break that voice, to tell it I could.

But the backward crossover transition was too hard. I just couldn't break through.

"Push off with your left skate to the back outside. Cross your right foot over and set it down in front of the left, shift your weight onto the right, then bring the left back from behind. Keep the crossunders going backward — the key is to open up your hips."

"The hard part of this move is that the crossunders keep crossing and switching feet, and your weight stays on the supporting leg the whole time. The moment your knee straightens and your upper body wobbles, you lose your balance."

My head whipped around, and my eyes landed on the man standing outside the rink.