Unsteady
: Chapter 35

It’s my first game, and specifically as Rhys Koteskiy’s girlfriend. I’m half thrilled, half terrified.

Only officially a week into our relationship—a week in which I’ve seen him only twice, briefly between my practices and his. But, having him wait a little after his early practices to kiss me before my ice time always puts me in a good mood. In fact, I think my routines get higher praise from Coach Kelley the more Rhys’ kisses and touches ignite me beforehand.

Still, I’m nervous.

Add to that pressure that I’d accidentally met Rhys’ mom when they came into the cafe on my usual off day.

Rhys was smiling brightly and kissed me chastely on the cheek. The little slip of a woman next to him was beautiful and I was pretty sure she wanted to do a little dance when he kissed me, which made me blush further when she introduced herself as Anna Koteskiy.

I’d ended up taking my lunch to sit with them, feeling a mixture of anxiety and terror until I was wiping my palms on my jeans from the constant clamminess. Adult female figures in my life had been few and far between, so I wasn’t exactly sure how it was best to behave.

Still, as she left, she gave me a tight, squeezing hug, not letting go until I finally relaxed.

Into my ear, she said she was proud of me. And then, she was gone.

Three days since that interaction, and I still haven’t seen Rhys on his own. They played against Colgate last night and won in the first overtime, but from what I read online, it was a pretty rough game for Waterfell and they ultimately “played like shit.”

Tonight, they play Boston College, and it’s supposed to be pretty important.

My brothers are coming, too. Rhys secured them spots and told me that they’d sit with his mom so I could spend time with my friends. I’m still slightly wary of her, and I haven’t officially met his dad yet, despite the times I saw him at Oliver and Liam’s summer practices.

Still, I replace myself changing three times before even sitting down in front of the standing mirror in Aurora’s room to do my makeup.

She finishes much quicker, offering to do my hair into two short, loose braids with thin blue ribbons tying them off. I feel a little funny, but… pretty, for the first time in a while. I wonder if Rhys will think I’m pretty like this.

My chest squeezes at the thought and I feel a little nauseous.

As I pull on my white sneakers, Rora rounds the doorway from her closet and I pause.

“What are you wearing?” I ask, eyebrows skyrocketing at the vintage patchwork style jacket she’s sliding on, black denim with the back cut out, some sort of Waterfell University shirt stitched into its place. The sleeve is bedazzled with blue lettering “Wolves” down one sleeve, with stars blazing up the other.

“What are you wearing?” she asks back, her arms crossing at my black jeans and white top. “I thought you were going to wear the dress.”

I ignore her question. I was going to wear the silk dress until it didn’t fit over my ass, which made me feel worse because I can already hear Coach Kelley in my ear about the weigh in before the next comp—which is in Denver for an entire four days, so I know I’ll be opting out, again.

“Did you make that?”

“Yes.” She grabs something off her desk, tossing it so quickly I barely have time to reach my hands out. “I made you one too.”

I expect a copy of hers, but I shouldn’t because this is Aurora—with more creativity and brains in her pinky that I have in my whole body.

It’s a vintage bomber, with a navy and teal striped collar and cuffs, a large Waterfell Wolves logo emblazoned on one side, offset with a patch of denim, while the other side hosts a large 51 in a pearlescent white with navy stitching.

Rhys Koteskiy’s number.

“I was gonna put his name on the back too, but I didn’t have enough time.” She shrugs. “Not to mention I’m pretty sure I’d misspell it, even if I was copying it letter for letter.”

Part of me wants to snip at her for meddling, for thinking this was something either of us would want. But I bite my tongue because my eyes are burning with tears at the gentle thoughtfulness of my friend.

“You didn’t want to stitch a number into yours?” I ask, turning back to the mirror and picking up the maroon lipstick laying across the vanity.

She smirks, cheeks flushing. “I did,” she replies, showing her sleeve where a small 27 is stitched into the star closest to her hand.

I don’t have to pull up the roster to guess that number 27 is the only player she semi-knows on the team.

“For your favorite student, huh?”

“I wanna surprise him with his test score.” She smiles, and this time there’s real excitement in her gaze, something that’s been missing from her since the breakup. And even before, really. “He passed the midterm.”

“He’ll be excited to know he doesn’t have a suspension coming. And maybe to shut everyone up about exactly how dumb—”

Something in my comment makes her bristle, face tight as she pulls her hair from beneath the jacket.

“He’s not dumb,” she huffs. “He’s actually really smart. I mean, look at him play—he reads every move so well. He and Rhys are like, perfect together.”

I nod, admonished, but my brow furrows. “You’ve seen them play?”

“I’ve gone to a game or two.”

That’s news to me; but I can’t say I’m surprised I didn’t know. With everything still going on around us—skating, my distraction of Rhys, the boys, the custody case, my father—I haven’t really been paying attention.

“So, you understand hockey now?”

She nods. “I read a few books about it at work before I went to a game. Wanted to fully understand it.”

I laugh lightly, not mocking but more impressed as she wraps an arm across my back. “I’ve been watching Oliver play for years now and I’m still learning.”

But, I know Aurora learned it all. She could probably coach a team if she wanted to, because she doesn’t do anything halfway.

Just as we finish, there’s a flurry of knocks on Rora’s door, accompanied with high pitch giggling that could only be from Liam.

Rora opens the door with a grin, shouting “Boo!” to start up another round of six-year-old giggles. She chases after him as he runs, and Oliver is left standing by the kitchenette.

“You look cool,” he says.

It makes me pause for a moment, because it’s the equivalent of an I love you and extreme approval wrapped into three words.

“Yeah?”

He nods. “Rhys’ll like it.”

Oliver and Liam both are everything to me. But with Oliver, anything other than anger is hard to come by. Even if I know he doesn’t blame me, sometimes it’s hard to know if I’m doing the right thing. So, I squeeze his shoulder and thank him as we all head outside.

The walk on the concourse to the arena is busy, hockey being one of the top performing sports around here. It’s Saturday, too, which means we avoided most of the disapproving stares from our RA who spotted my little brothers trailing us out of the dorms.

We used to get fined for it, until Rora worked some kind of magic. Since then, I haven’t heard a peep.

Rhys’ mom is standing just inside the complex as we enter, a tall suit-clad man with a broad smile next to her. I know he isn’t Rhys’ dad, and that alone makes me pause, gripping Liam’s hand in mine a little tighter.

“Oh, beautiful.” She sighs, her hand reaching out to caress the sleeve of my jacket. “Did you make these?”

“My roommate did,” I answer, a little short in my response as my eyes flicker back to the man behind her. “This is Rora.”

They shake hands, and I can feel Liam trying to maneuver from my grip to go to her—but I won’t let him go.

Thankfully, I don’t have to ask because Aurora introduces herself to the man, probably assuming it’s Rhys’ father.

“Adam.” He nods, smiling.

“Are you a coach?” I ask, brows dipping.

“Lawyer.” He smiles, all calm and collected. Meanwhile, my heart rate skyrockets and I start to feel the panic building.

A lawyer? Why did she bring him here? Is this… Is it Liam and Oliver? Are they going to take them from me?

My grip tightens, and even Oliver steps back. The man seems a little surprised at our joint reaction, but I barely notice, too busy trying to replace an exit route and hoping Rora will do something insane and distract them.

“Oh,” Anna says, her face dropping into pure devastation. I’m too busy panicking to be embarrassed by my reaction, but she puts her hand out towards the lawyer. “No, this is a family friend—Adam Reiner. Bennett’s father.”

It doesn’t calm me, nothing does until Aurora presses a hand to my shoulder and catches my eyes.

“They’re not trying to take them from you,” she whispers. But I know Mrs. Koteskiy can hear her words by the shuddering noise that comes from her.

“No, Sadie, god—I’m so sorry. No, my husband had to go to a press event and his flight was delayed back. Mr. Reiner just offered to accompany us today. Only if that’s alright with you.”

He’s not here to take them. No one is going to take them.

Oliver keeps holding onto me, even as I release Liam so he can run to Anna Koteskiy’s side and begins babbling to her about his morning. But, Bennett’s father—which now I can easily see the resemblance from the quaff sun-kissed brown hair and strong features, not to mention the height—steps over to us.

“I’ll grab us some drinks.” Rora excuses herself.

He smiles at her, something I’ve never really seen from his stoic son, but then looks down at Oliver and me.

“If you need anything—”

“We don’t,” I cut him off. “I mean; I have a lawyer. I have the custody papers and everything. I’m just in a waiting period.”

I have the trial date set for January, and my lawyer hopes we can convince my dad to sign away his rights instead. Then, all I’ll need to prove is that I can provide for them and house them—take care of them.

He smiles again, and it’s so perfect it looks like a mask. “Alright.”

Mrs. Koteskiy surprises them with school jerseys, Liam is swimming in his, but they’re happy as I leave them with the two very well put together adults.

“Do you think she hates me?” I ask, following Rora to our seats a few rows above the glass close to the goal.

Aurora gentles me with a shoulder shove, but her face is open and bright. “Don’t be ridiculous. All that woman wants to do is scoop you all up and take you home in her pocket.”

“She thinks I can’t take care of them—”

“No. She thinks the same thing we all do. That you shouldn’t have to.” She stops for a moment, setting a hand on my shoulder and playing with the end of my braid.

“Both of your parents are still alive, and you’re a talented figure skater and smart girl who spends the majority of her time balancing three jobs, keeping her brothers fed and on a schedule and in your dorm. You haven’t done something for just you since Liam showed up.”

She’s right. I hate how much she’s right.

“Well, except for Rhys. That was definitely for you. And you deserve it; you deserve him.”

I blush again, settling into our spot and watching as the teams come out for warmups. We’re on the home ice side, so Bennett leads, settling his water bottle on the net and heading to a corner to stretch.

The boys look like they’re running on ice, something I’ve always thought looks powerful but choppy. And annoying, considering the state it leaves the ice in when I have to skate behind them.

I spot him easily, his hair flowing from the breeze by how quickly he skates. He makes a loop with Matt Fredderic on his heels before they come to a stop and start a little stretch routine as some of the other guys start dribbling and taking practice shots at an empty net.

Then, as they line up to take shots on Bennett in the goal, he spots me and smiles. He elbows Freddy, who glints up at us with a big grin and winks. After they take their next shot, they make their way over to our side of the glass.

A girl seated in front of us goes bug-eyed at their approach, squealing about how hot they are to her friend and it makes me smile, albeit a bit smugly.

But then, Freddy taps on the glass above them, completely directed at Rora who glitters under his attention, before making some ridiculous face at him that has Freddy laughing loud enough to hear through the plexiglass.

Rhys only smiles at me and waves—which I happily do back.

“Get it together, son,” an older gentleman to our right yells towards Rhys. “Don’t let that Kane fucker get in your head. Eye on the prize.”

I can see the way Rhys ignores him, but I know he can hear it.

My hackles are raised, ready to bite the guy’s head off no matter how good his intentions are, but then another asshole a few seats past Aurora and down at the glass—decked in Boston College maroon—starts shouting at the pair.

“Hey, look at that. Their little captain managed to get himself back on the ice,” he yells. “How many hits does it take for you to toughen up, pussy?”

“Let’s see you take one, asshole,” I snap, whirling towards them so hard one of my braids slaps me in the mouth.

The boys around him make a collective “ooo” as if they’re watching a 2000s rap battle begin.

My eyes flicker back to Rhys, who seems like he’s torn between a swell of pride and wanting me to stop engaging with them. I shoot him a quick wink to show I’m fine, but cross my arms and meet the smirk of the heckler with one of my own.

“Is that your boyfriend, huh? Poor girl seems upset,” he says, walking up the steps and scooting past the empty set of seats to lean over a seated Aurora and whisper. “Does the brain damage hurt his ability to fuck? I’ll volunteer if you need—”

I knee him in the balls, swift and hard, and then watch with a satisfied smile as he trips over Rora’s feet and falls on his ass. He stands and ambles back down, embarrassed.

Rhys taps on the glass with his glove, waiting until the guy stares him down. My boyfriend is smiling, his eyes dark. “Look at her again, see what happens.” The threat is clear, menacing despite the dimpled fake smile stretching his cheeks. He smacks the glass hard with the end of his stick, making the guy jump back as a roar of laughter echoes around them.

I catch his eye again before he leaves the ice, getting a little wink from him that fills every empty piece of my soul.