AARON FOLLOWED KATIE through the warren of hallways at the heart of the Twin Cities Ice complex to the room they sometimes used for meetings, but more often for meals or impromptu naps. There were a few tables, no windows, an old microwave, and a refrigerator that rumbled ominously in the corner. Someone had made coffee in the communal coffee maker they all took turns bringing in beans for. Aaron helped himself to a cup—the bitter, slightly burnt smell felt like home—and sat down next to Charlotte.
Aside from themselves, Brendan, Katie, and the journalist, only those skaters who lived year-round in the Twin Cities and also weren’t otherwise on tour or vacation were present. Which meant Sam and Morgan, who skated pairs together, and two junior men’s skaters, Angel and Nikolai, who Aaron knew were both hoping to qualify for competing in the senior division soon. No one looked fully awake.
At the front of the room, Brendan waved haphazardly to get their attention. “Hi everybody. Thanks for being here. Normally we’d have a more organized welcome back, but this isn’t the official start to our training season for most of you... you’re just...here.”
“There’s like six of them,” Katie said from the side of the room, sounding somewhere between exasperated and amused. Which was true—Katie and Brendan coached maybe thirty skaters all together, though most of them were younger skaters still competing at the novice and intermediate level.
Brendan waved that detail away and went on talking. “Which, honestly, warms my heart. That we love what we do and stick together in tough times. And with that out of the way,” Brendan said, clapping his hands together. “We do have an actual announcement.”
Katie sighed audibly. Brendan shot her a smile.
“God, they are so married,” Charlotte murmured at Aaron.
“Jealous?” he whispered.
“Of the domestic bliss or that he gets to live with her hotness?” she replied.
“I’ll take your word for it,” Aaron said.
“You should.”
“The man back there,” Brendan said pointing, “Who looks like he wishes he’d packed a sweater.”
Everyone in the room turned to look at the guy, who was leaning against a table, both hands wrapped around a paper coffee cup. He’d taken off his parka and definitely looked cold, but Aaron was more distracted by his elaborately tattooed arms. No one in skating had that much ink, not where anyone could see it. Aaron already thought the guy was hot, but the tattoos were definitely nice icing.
“Anyway, that’s Zack,” Brendan said. “He’s a journalist—”
Charlotte cursed in French under her breath.
“—and he’s here to write about all of you.”
“It’s a long-form, reported piece,” Zack said, like that meant anything to any of them. “So, while the impetus is Luke Koval’s injury and what that means for the men’s field, I’ll be here for a few weeks to soak up the atmosphere and community. You should all honestly ignore me as much as possible, except hopefully when I want to talk to you.”
“Do you know how to skate?” Aaron asked. He didn’t want to get skipped over for Angel and Nikolai and some premature look at the future of the sport, not when he was right here and ready to—hopefully—do great things.
“Ah. No,” Zack admitted.
“I can fix that,” he said and regretted it almost immediately as the rest of the room burst out with laughter.
“Do I want to know what the punchline is?” Zack asked.
“You really don’t,” Katie said, before anyone could say anything worse.
Brendan, meanwhile, looked from Aaron to Zack and back again. “Can I have you two sort this out when we’re not in the middle of a meeting?” he asked plaintively.
Aaron watched as Zack, trying to hide his confused amusement, nodded at the same time as him. Then he caught his eye with a wicked smile.
Aaron had a suspicion this was going to be all sorts of fun.
Chapter 4
VERY EARLY IN THE MORNING
Twin Cities Ice Arena
ZACK SAT ON THE BENCH a few feet from the door to the ice and stared at the giant, glowing red clock that hung over the far end of the sheet. 5:05am. He still didn’t know anything about skating beyond YouTube videos, but the early hour, the profusion of fluorescent lights, and the rink’s industrial warehouse vibe were all familiar enough. He certainly felt more at ease here than he had in his own living room for the last several months, which was either situation normal given the divorce or something he should probably talk over with his therapist.
The heavy door from the locker room banged open, making Zack jump. Aaron, one of the main subjects of his article and now his skating instructor, appeared with a reusable shopping bag in one hand and a pair of skates in the other. Zack was freezing in several layers of long sleeves and a hoodie, but Aaron wore only a T-shirt and a light jacket that wasn’t even zipped. Zack had seen him up close yesterday, but only briefly, and was struck anew at how small Aaron was. None of the skaters were tall, but Aaron seemed particularly slight and the top of his head barely came past Zack’s shoulder.
“You made it!” he said cheerily, setting the bag down on the floor in front of Zack and the pair of skates—his own, Zack assumed—gently on the bench.
“Did you think I wouldn’t?” Zack was curious.
“Five in the morning is early for most people.” Aaron sat down next to him and started pulling on the skates, but with a sideways glance at Zack that instantly made him suspicious.
“Wait,” Zack said. “Did you tell me to drag my ass out of bed and to this rink at five in the morning as a test?”
“Maybe.”
“Why?”
“If I confess will you be mad?”
“No,” Zack said, staring at Aaron in disbelief. “But I will be exceptionally curious.”
Aaron shrugged as he tightened
