Shot on Gold

  "When you're a hockey player, it is," Will said.

  Drew raised his eyebrows. "But my wife can be persuasive."

  "You are so sweet, Drew."

  "Stop telling him that," Will said. "You'll get him all mellow and mushy and then he'll suck during the games."

  Drew glared at Will. "I never suck at hockey."

  "I seem to recall the Ice jamming up the Travelers a time or two." Will said slanting a grin in Drew's direction. "Or maybe five or six. Ten or twelve."

  "I think you have a faulty memory, because our defense kicked your ass the week before we flew out here."

  Will gave a thoughtful look to Drew. "Buddy, did you take a stick to the head in our last matchup? Because I'm pretty sure we won that game."

  "Yeah, and I think Kozlow slammed your head against the boards too hard, because you're suffering from amnesia."

  Amber rolled her eyes and ate her lunch while she listened to the two of them argue it out. It was a good thing figure skaters didn't trash talk each other like this.

  Then again, it might fire them up if they did. Though their competitions weren't one-on-one and they didn't occupy the ice at the same time. Still, they were all adversaries.

  Amber couldn't imagine trying to skate against one of her competitors, on the ice at the same time.

  Since Will and Drew had decided to forego their argument in favor of devouring their food, she turned to Will. "When I compete, I'm all alone on the ice. It's my performance that will win or lose for me. What's it like, fighting it out on the ice against a competitor?"

  Will looked at Drew, and they both grinned.

  "It's the biggest adrenaline rush there is," Will said.

  Drew nodded. "It fuels a fire inside of me like nothing else ever has."

  Will half turned to face her. "You know that with every game the other team is going to be good. Sometimes even better than you. You have to find the fight inside of you, that fire that burns deep inside, like Drew said. You have to want to win more than they do, and fight as hard as you can, because you know they aren't going to make it easy for you."

  "It helps if you're good at what you do, too." Drew shot a confident grin at Will.

  "Yeah, that part helps," Will said. "But when you get to the level of a professional player, it's a given that you're good."

  Will looked at Amber. "We know we're playing at the top of our game. We've been at this for several years now. We're not rookies just learning the ropes anymore. Our team counts on us to know what the hell we're doing."

  "And to be the best at it," Drew added.

  "I love hearing both of you describe playing. There's such a passion that comes out of you when you talk about it, as if you were born to do this."

  Will laughed. "I don't know about Drew, but I was practically born playing hockey. I don't remember a time when I wasn't playing."

  Drew cocked a smile. "Same."

  She finished up her chicken, then set her bowl to the side.

  "You're the same way about figure skating, aren't you Amber?" Drew asked.

  "You mean that competitive passion?"

  Drew nodded.

  "I'm here for the third time, one of the oldest figure skaters competing. If I didn't feel that fire to win, I wouldn't have subjected myself to another grueling four years of practices and competitive events. So, yes, I feel that passion."

  "I know it's not the same as what we do," Will said. "But I know you have that fire inside of you. I've seen it just in your practices."

  "You watched her practice?" Drew asked.

  "Yeah. She's beautiful on skates. She has amazing power. And those jumps. Man, you gotta see those jumps. She gets high and does these circles in the air that seem to defy gravity. Then she powers through like nothing I've ever seen. And yet there's this beauty in the way she moves that I can't even describe. It's like--you know when you go to a museum and see something like a painting or a sculpture that makes you stop and stare? You don't know what it is that's getting to you about it. It's just so goddamn beautiful you can't help yourself. You have to stare at it. That's Amber."

  Amber could barely breathe. She'd never heard someone describe her skating like that.

  "Hell, Madigan, that's fucking poetic," Drew said, slapping him on the back. "I didn't know you had it in you."

  Will grinned, then turned to Amber, his lips softening into a tender smile.

  "Thank you," she said, reaching out to squeeze his arm.

  "You're welcome."

  Drew stood. "If you two are going to get all gooey romantic, I'm gonna go call my wife."

  Amber smiled at Drew. "It was great having lunch with you, Drew."

  "You too, honey. See you on the ice," he said to Will.

  "Later, Hogan," Will said.

  "I like him," Amber said after Drew walked away.

  "I do, too. He's a great guy. But don't tell him I said that since he plays for a competing team."

  Amber laughed. "Your secret is safe."

  "Does that mean you'll keep all my secrets?"

  "That depends. You're not an international spy, are you?"

  "Oh, now you're putting conditions on keeping my secrets."

  "Hey, I'm a law-abiding citizen. Besides, we're in Canada. I'd like to be able to get back home."

  He shot her an incredulous look. "You'd throw me under the bus, sell me out, feed me to the wolves, all just to get back into the US?"

  "You bet your ass I would. Who'd feed my cat otherwise?"

  "You have a cat?"

  She leveled a smile at him. "No."

  "I didn't think so. You don't strike me as a cat person."

  "I love cats. And what does that mean?"

  "I love cats, too. I just picture you walking some retriever-Labrador mix down the streets of Manhattan."

  She laughed. "I live on Long Island, not Manhattan."

  He shrugged. "I still have this mental picture of you walking some big dog in Manhattan."

  "Are you telling me you've had some psychic vision that I'm going to be moving to Manhattan?"

  He leaned forward and teased his fingers up her forearm, giving her delicious chills. "I don't know. Maybe. Why? Do you have some secret desire to live in Manhattan?"

  "No. I'd like to move somewhere outside of New York."

  "Yeah? Any idea where?"

  "I don't have a clue."

  "And what would you do in this unknown place?"

  "Teach figure skating to kids who can't afford it."

  Drew leaned back, as if he was trying to figure out if she was on the level or not. "Really. Got it all figured out, huh?"

  "Yes."

  "Why?"

  She shrugged. "I was always skating with the privileged kids when I was younger. And then in competitions I'd hear stories of community fund-raisers and how much work went into getting some of these kids to competitions. It seemed so . . . unfair. It made me wonder how many more never even have the chance to learn how to skate, let alone get to the point where they could compete. There have to be amazingly talented kids with so much potential who only need to be given the opportunity to learn."

  He didn't say anything.

  "What?" she asked.

  "That's a kick-ass idea, Amber."

  She smiled. "Thanks. It's a passion. I hope I get to do it."

  "No reason you can't."

  "Plus, my mother will hate it. She wants me to be famous."

  "No shit?"

  "Yes. She thinks when my career is finished I can use it as a stepping stone to bigger things."

  "What kinds of bigger things?"

  "I have no idea. A book? Product endorsements? Knowing her, she already has a plan for me."

  He shifted in his seat, turning his chair so he faced her. Then he leaned forward. "Have you ever told your mom your plan for your future?"

  "God, no. I'd have to endure endless lectures about how I have to use my talent to climb the ladder to success and fame."

  Will grimaced. "
Seriously?"

  "Oh, yes. I've been hearing that speech since I was five."

  "No, you haven't."

  "I have. Which is why I keep my plans for my future to myself."

  "I can see why. Sorry, Amber."

  "Don't be. I'm used to her. Besides, I know in her heart she wants what's best for me, but sometimes I think her ambitions for herself when she was younger get mixed up with what she wants for me."

  "You should talk to her."

  She shook her head. "I tried, twice. Once when I was a teenager, and then again when I turned twenty-one. She argued that she knew best and I should trust her to manage my career. I gave up after that."

  "I dunno. My dad put me on skates when I was little because he loved hockey. I took to it right away. I joined hockey clubs and played all through school, but I never felt pushed into it. I was always allowed to make my own choices. Fortunately for me, I fell in love with the sport and can't imagine doing anything else."

  "You can't play hockey the rest of your life, Will."

  "I can't?"

  He grinned.

  Amber laughed. "I mean, hockey players have a shelf life."

  "True. I also have a degree in marketing and communication."

  "Decent. What do you plan to do post hockey career?"

  "I don't know. If my brother doesn't want to take over the family bar, then I will. I already have ideas for expansion."

  "That sounds fun."

  "You'd like the bar. It's rowdy and exciting, and if you like sports, it's a magical place. There's always a game of some kind or another on, though in Chicago it's typically going to be baseball, football or hockey. And when the international games are on, everyone comes to the bar."

  "Even when you aren't playing in the games?"

  He slanted a smile at her. "Yeah, even when I'm not in the games. There are regulars who've been coming to the bar for forty years. There's shuffleboard and pool, plus some video games we added a couple years back. Mom and Dad are always there working behind the bar. The customers love them. Now that he's in high school my brother comes in and buses tables on the weekends. I used to do that, too, when I was in high school. Whenever I wasn't playing hockey."

  "I do like sports. And bars. And your family sounds amazing."

  "They're pretty cool."

  "It's very unlike my family."

  "In what way?"

  "Obviously your family does things together. They hang out together. They own a business together. My father is always at work. I can't remember ever hanging out at the office with my dad."

  Will raised a brow. "So you've never seen where he works?"

  "Obviously I know where he works, but no, I've never spent any time there. I've been to the dance studio often with my mother, of course, since I've taken dance lessons from the time I was three. Jazz helped with my endurance and with the artistic part of my program. Ballet helped my flexibility and was a benefit to skating."

  "I could see that, I guess. I really don't know anything about dance, but I'd bet you look hot doing it."

  She smiled. "Anyway, my parents' two careers don't really mesh. I don't know. I guess I just don't see my family as a traditional family unit."

  "What's a traditional family unit these days, Amber? Every family is different."

  She shrugged. "I know. I mean, mine has been . . . unusual. Since I often traveled, that meant I was on the road a lot, either with my mother or with Yegor and Valeria--they're my coach and my trainer."

  "Are you close to them?"

  "Very. They're like my second set of parents."

  "That's nice to have."

  "It is."

  "But you've done things with your parents, right? Vacations and things?"

  She shook her head. "No. My parents took a trip to Italy two years ago. I'm pretty sure that's the first vacation they'd had in--" She thought about it. "As long as I can remember. And my father complained about having to take time off work. But my mother insisted. In the end, they went, and they both seemed happy when they got back."

  "But you didn't go?"

  "No. I was in the middle of working up my new performance routines for the games, so I didn't go with them. Which at the time I thought was a good thing, because they needed some time alone together."

  "Ah. A second honeymoon kind of thing, right?"

  She nodded.

  "When they came back, they both told me they had a great time. And within a week they'd gone their separate ways again, Dad to spend hours at his office and Mom to the dance studio, and life at home went back to normal."

  "Define normal," Will said.

  "Strained silences at dinner where Dad stares at his laptop while he eats and Mom works crossword puzzles and quizzes me about my practice that day."

  "That sounds so fun. So you still live at home."

  She nodded. "Since I work nonstop at skating, I have like . . . zero income. That's going to change after the games. I have to get out of there."

  "Making you a little crazy?"

  She laughed. "More than a little."

  "So you've made a plan to get a job and relocate?"

  "Not exactly. My only goal right now is to win gold. After that, I'll figure it out."

  "One step at a time, right?"

  "You got it."

  "I think it's a good plan."

  "You do? It's like . . . no plan at all."

  "Look. You gotta focus on winning the gold first. You've spent the past four years doing that. You already know you want to get out of your parents' house, and you want to do something to make money, so you have a long-range plan."

  "I . . . guess. But it's not like I have something lined up."

  He shrugged. "The other stuff will fall into place after that. You don't wanna clutter up your head with 'what am I gonna do after Vancouver' nonsense. Focus on your skating and worry about the rest of it later. It's not like your parents are gonna evict you after the games, right?"

  "No, they won't."

  "I mean, it makes sense for it to be tucked into the back of your mind. It is your future, after all. But front and center? Gotta be skating for a medal. That's your focus right now."

  It wasn't often that her opinion was even considered, let alone thought of as valid. "Thanks."

  "For what?"

  "For thinking I have decent ideas."

  "I think you have a lot of good ideas, Amber. I can't wait to hear all about your plans for your life after the games. I also can't wait to watch you skate."

  Just the thought of skating for a medal fueled her. "Thank you. I'm so excited. We both start tomorrow, don't we?"

  He nodded. "Tomorrow's our first game."

  "And I have the team competition beginning tomorrow."

  "What time?" he asked.

  "For me? I skate at noon."

  "We're at three tomorrow afternoon."

  "Excellent," she said. "I'll be there."

  "I won't get to watch you," he said, giving her a disappointed look. "I have to report to the hockey arena at noon."

  She laid her hand on his arm. "It's okay. You know we're going to have some overlap."

  "But I like watching you skate."

  "There will be other opportunities. And this is the short program. If I'm good enough--which I will be--the US team will move on to the finals for the team event. Then hopefully you'll be able to watch the long program. Which you'll be able to see again anyway, when I perform it in the individual medal event."

  He grinned at her.

  "What?"

  "I love how confident you are."

  "I wouldn't be here if I wasn't sure I'd win."

  "But there's no ego in it, no arrogance. You just know you have the skills."

  She felt her cheeks go warm. "Thank you. You always say the nicest things."

  "Nah. Just the truth. You ready to get out of here?"

  "Yes. I'd love to get some fresh air."

  They put on their coats and hats and went outside. It was cold, b
ut there was no wind. The sun was still out which meant the day was perfect.

  Will took her hand. "Come on. Let's go play."

  She arched a brow. "Play? Where are we going to play?"

  "Up the hill some."

  He walked them up a fairly steep hill to the top. There was thick snow up here, but she was wearing tall snow boots so she didn't mind sinking in.

  "Lots of snow here," Will said. "It's perfect."

  She cast a sideways glance at him. "For?"

  "Building a snowman, of course."

  She stared at him. "You're serious."

  "I'm dead serious about my snowmen. Come on."

  He sank to his knees and started rolling snow into a ball. She hadn't moved yet, because she was still unable to believe he was actually doing this.

  "You're really building a snowman?"

  He cast a look at her over his shoulder. "I'm not frying bacon up here. You gonna join me or what?"

  She walked bent over to get closer to him. "You do realize you aren't eight years old, right?"

  Before she knew it, she had been flipped onto her back, buried in the snow, and Will was looming over her, his body covering hers. "We're always eight years old, Amber. Where's your sense of fun?"

  "It's hard to have a sense of fun when your ass is freezing in the snow."

  He laughed, jumped up and grabbed her hands, hauling her up. "Come on. Snowman time."

  "Just so you know, I've never built a snowman in my life."

  He paused. "You're lying."

  She shook her head. "Not lying."

  "You get plenty of snow in New York."

  "Of course I do. But I was always at practice, either skating or ballet. And then there was school."

  "Come on. You had to have been allowed to play."

  "Play was structured. Reading time, piano lessons, educational films."

  He wrinkled his nose. "That's not play. I mean, reading is fun, as long as you get to choose what to read." He stared at her.

  She stared back.

  He rolled his eyes. "We'll talk about that later. But how about playing outside in the snow? Climbing on the playground equipment, running around with your friends?"

  She didn't answer him, because there was no point. Most people didn't understand the way she was raised.

  "Okay, then. Today is building a snowman day."

  She appreciated that he didn't press her about her screwed-up childhood. The less she had to delve deep into her past and think about it, the better it was for her own emotional health.

  So instead, she knelt on the ground and rolled snow into a giant ball with Will. Turned out, building a snowman was some serious work. And also serious fun. They argued over how big his bottom half should be.

  "We're not building the Bigfoot of snowmen here, Amber," Will said. "Let's keep his proportions reasonable."