Skating Towards Danger: A Mafia Hockey Romance – Dante’s Book (Mafia Hockey Series 2)

The music blares in my ears as I skate backward, gently gliding from side to side as I keep my eyes closed, trying to block everything out and just concentrate on my movement.

I love the ice, how cold it is, and how smooth it feels underneath my blades. I hate the memories it brings me every time I step foot on it, knowing I’ll never get more with those I love most.

“Rose no….”

My father’s painful shout from that fateful day taunts me, and I pick up speed.

I don’t skate much, especially since losing my family. The pain that the crash may never have happened if they hadn’t picked me up from school and if they hadn’t stayed to watch me skate kills me. My mind takes over when memories try to drown me, the ice seems to be the only thing to settle me again which is ironic really and knowing this is to celebrate their life even if it hurts, especially on a day like today. I suck it up and do what I have to just like I do when the memories try and take over and I need to forget even if it is just for an hour.

I take steady breaths and pick up my speed, and keeping my eyes shut, I bend my knees and spring into the air with a spin before landing perfectly with my left leg behind me straight, my body slightly bent forward, and my arms out straight beside me completing the axel jump, something my Momma ensured I knew how to do when I was only eight before I continue to skate and get lost in my world where the past doesn’t exist.

Picking up my speed, I do the exact jump repeatedly, landing perfectly both times before I skid to a halt, spraying ice as I do. I breathe hard as my t-shirt sticks to my skin by my sweat, and a feeling of pride overtakes me that I managed to perfectly do the axle jump three times in a row, even adding a spin with the first one and didn’t break my stride.

I open my eyes and look at the empty stands. A small part of me expects to see Momma grinning wide, and sadness takes hold of me because she’s not there, instead she’s six feet under. The pride disappears, and the guilt for being here takes hold like it always does, even though I’m here to remember them on this day when I see the stands empty.

This is the home of the Jaguars undefeated ice hockey team and the place where they hold competitions—competitions Momma was a part of, competitions I technically should be involved in right now, maybe even the Olympics like Momma and I used to talk about, but I’m not.

This was my home away from home, but not anymore.

Just being on the ice while yes calms me, it also brings back so many good memories that it makes me want to cry because they’re memories I can never get back.

We should be here together, and just enjoying this feeling makes me hate myself. It’s why I quit figure skating to begin with.

Every time I got that enjoyment feeling, the happiness, hate would overtake me and that hate is dangerous.

Until I turned sixteen, I was forced to continue skating and practicing. My Aunt and Uncle urged me not to let go of something I loved, and I agreed to keep them happy. I mean, they did take in an orphan who switched off from the world, but the more I skated, the more I struggled to breathe because every time I looked up to the stands, I expected to see my Momma and Daddy cheering me on and Royal…noveldrama

God…

Would he have black hair like mine? Would he be skating, too?

I look away from the stands and gently glide backward, allowing my body to pull me around the rink.

He would have been fifteen today.

I allow a few tears to fall before quickly wiping them away, then I pick up speed again and close my eyes, willing myself to get lost in the moment while visions of my beautiful baby brother fill me, and I wonder what he’d look like now and if whether he would have been happy.

I let the music guide me before I begin with the axel jumps again. This time, instead of slowing down or going into the jump again, I change into the mohawk, changing direction before going back into the axel jump, ending perfectly with my left leg out straight behind me and my arms spread wide, my body half bent and again instead of stopping. I twist on my skate, bringing my left leg down and pick up speed again going backward and begin a dance I performed with my Momma when I was seven, just before she had found out she was pregnant with Royal and without thinking too much of it, I let the memories wash over me, pretending they’re watching as I bring myself into the spin, bending backward slightly.

“That’s it Paige, well done sweetheart, I knew you could do it,” Momma cheers and happiness fills me.

I squeeze my eyes tight and swing my arms round into a spin pretending she’s cheering me on.

I skate for over an hour before I stop in the middle of the rink, breathing hard. My back feels wet, my breathing choppy, yet I feel free and hate myself for it.

“Fuck that was amazing,” a voice says, and I jump, looking over to the left of me where the hockey players’ seats are, and lock eyes with Rhett’s dark brown ones.

Crap. He always has a way of being here when I’m here.

I swallow hard and mumble, “Thanks,” before skating over to the stands where my bag is and Rhett says, “I didn’t want to disturb you, but your phone has been vibrating for the past five minutes.”

Ah double crap. I groan and drop my head, making him chuckle.

“It’s probably Uncle Rocco,” I say, and he hums, knowing it is.

I don’t know Rhett well, only that he’s the goalie for the Jaguars. His parents are close to my aunt and uncle, and he apparently knew my momma and daddy very well, which is why I’ve kept my distance.

Anyone who knew my parents well, I keep a wide berth. Even after fifteen years, I still can’t manage to hear stories about them. While yes, it’s nice to know they were loved, it’s hard for me because it’s my fault they are dead, or that’s what my head and heart has convinced me since I woke up in the hospital.

They came to my practice, they stayed the whole time.

It’s my fault, mine and skating.

“I did message him and let him know you were skating and in your own world before he decided to send out the whole police force,” Rhett says, and I nod.

“Thank you,” I mutter, he hums again and sits beside me as I take a seat and unlace my skates.

I notice Rhett’s eyes go to my left forearm, but I ignore him and continue changing my skates for my sneakers.

I remember the first time he saw my tattoo. He and his family came to dinner. I had just quit skating for good and I hated the world. He asked if it was a marker because I was only sixteen but soon scowled and demanded to know if it was a boyfriend’s name when Aunt Tyra admitted it wasn’t fake. I just snorted but never confirmed or denied it.

I begged Aunt Tyra to let me get it, and she didn’t hesitate, and while yes, it hurt like a bitch, I’m glad I got it.

Royal

Having my brother’s name large on the inside of my upper forearm was the best decision I ever made, and I’ve made some pretty poor choices since losing my parents.

After waking up in the hospital for the second time, I went mute and cut off all my hair, scaring my poor aunt and uncle, and that was before I tried to slit my wrists, and I had to be Baker acted for two months at the age of nine.

When I was thirteen, however, I started skipping school, and I only got worse after that, something my aunt and uncle probably didn’t think was possible.

Staying out late, partying, drinking, drugs. It’s a miracle that I graduated high school, especially after I allowed my history teacher to take my virginity bent over his desk at the age of fourteen.

Not my best idea.

The man was in his early thirties but still, not okay and while he wanted a secret relationship to try and groom me, I just wanted to forget and went onto the school quarterback and then the basketball team captain and so on.

I never had a boyfriend and didn’t have a very good reputation.

I was classed as easy to the jocks while the nerds and goths tried their hardest to get my attention which never worked.

I was on a downward spiral, struggling with survivor’s guilt.

I shouldn’t have survived, and yet I did, I hated myself for it, still hate myself for it, but Uncle Rocco put me in therapy, and I’m trying. I am, I just don’t have a purpose in life like most twenty-two year olds do.

I don’t have any career perspectives. I have no college background to get a good job, and I was never in the right mind to even apply when I was in high school. I’m currently working evenings at a diner on the bad side of Brooklyn.

I moved out of Uncle Rocco’s house and now live in an apartment with three other people who like to have swinger parties, not that Uncle Rocco is aware of that.

He’d probably kill me if he knew, though the bright side, I haven’t slept with anyone since I was seventeen and high off my head on whatever Rod Thompson gave me to snort. I mean, I’m seeing someone casually to see how I feel about it, but I haven’t slept with him and I won’t until I feel a connection, something I definitely don’t feel right now.

“How are you doing, sweetheart?” Rhett asks, and I sigh, but he continues, “I know you don’t need a big brother type getting in your business, and I know you don’t know me well, but that’s only because you refuse to get to know me.”

I sit up and raise a brow at him, but he shrugs. Rolling my eyes, I stand and admit, “Today’s a good day.”

He nods and asks, “Even though Rocco currently wants you to join him, my parents, and many of your parents’ close friends for a meal?”

I flinch. Crap, he said it was just a normal family dinner.

I clear my throat and admit, “I’m not going. Most of them believe I’m dead.”

My uncle didn’t want anyone to know I survived the crash, something about my parents’ close friends would try and take full custody of me, and no one knew Royal even existed. When I was born, Momma didn’t tell anyone until I was five months old. She wanted that time with just her Daddy and me, and the same with Royal.

Rhett sighs and stands, then states, “And Rocco wants to change that.”

I shake my head, grab my bag, and reply, “I’m not going. I have to work anyway…See you later, Rhett.”

I turn and walk away, grabbing my phone from my bag. I then bring up my text thread with my uncle.

I press send and put my phone back in my bag as I walk through the door but before it shuts behind me I hear Rhett shout, “You should be skating professionally, Paige!”

I flinch and continue my stride.

I’ll never stake professionally. I don’t deserve to have that kind of career when my mother is six feet under with my father and baby brother.

I don’t deserve to live and be happy.