I played hockey throughout middle school and high school. When the time came for me to go to college, I hung up my competitive skates, but I never stopped playing for fun. When it’s just me, the ice, my stick, and a puck, I feel like I can let out everything I’m feeling inside. It’s not exactly like drawing, which allows my mind to quiet. This isn’t peace. It’s a channeling of my frustrations and pains. Something that makes me feel alive. The small ice rink surrounded by large trees and a frozen pond in the Sonder Hill park is a perfect escape.

“Hey, dumbass, what are you doing?”

My eyes roll back. Today, I’m not exactly alone with my skates. The most annoying man I know is also here.

“Showing you how it’s done,” I shout back to Finn, skating fast next to him before shooting in his net. He tries to stop the puck from breaching his goalposts, but only ends up sliding facedown on the ice, missing his target.

He groans, getting back up.

“You’ve always been a shit goalie,” I say with a smirk.

“Fuck off.”

Nothing like riling Finn up to burn off extra steam.

Chuckling, I start skating backward when my phone pings in the pocket of my hoodie.

Wren: Callie asked if she could keep Maybelle with her for the night. Do you think your parents would mind?

“What’s got you smiling like that?” Finn asks, making me realize my lips are turned upward. I force them back down and ignore him. I start to type an answer, but before I hit send, another message pops on my screen.

Wren: She really, really wants to. Think we can make it a secret between the three of us? Maybelle is well trained. No one will be the wiser.

Wren: :-)

A smiley face? Who would’ve thought. It’s probably to make me lean her way; that girl is too smart to do anything without secondary intentions.

I was already going to tell her it was fine, but I erase what I’d already typed and make it seem like she convinced me. Maybe that will mean more smileys in the future.

Me: Sure. Sneak her in while Ma’s cooking dinner. ;)

Wren: Will do. Thank you.

And there goes the friendly texting. Snickering, I put my phone back in my pocket.

“That your lawyer girlfriend?” Finn asks with a shit-eating grin.

I roll my eyes.

“So it was her.”

I don’t bother answering, instead skating away with the puck. If I try to refute it, he’ll just get on my ass even more.

“You’re fucking blushing,” he shouts in a sing-songy voice.

I might kill him.

“Am not.”

“Who knew you’d start crushing on your family’s lawyer?”