HAYDEN
The rink had always been home.
The first time I skated, I was five and wearing gear three sizes too big. I fell on my face six times in twenty minutes and cried so hard my mom bought me ice cream just to shut me up.
She half expected me to give up but I came back the next day. And the day after that, and the day after and I never stopped.
There was something about the ice, how it demanded balance, control and precision. You couldn’t fake it on the ice. You either handled it well or you fell on your f*****g face.
Lately, it had been eating me alive.
I skated drills like my legs were made of stone. I missed passes, overshot the puck, and snapped at my teammates more times than I could count.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Coleen. Her flinch when I got too close, her voice cra
