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Facebook Takeover Official Rules/Terms (Giveaway #1)

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The post Facebook Takeover Official Rules/Terms (Giveaway #1) appeared first on LitLiber.

The Inside Edge: Chapter Seven

Gaining the door to her office, Brianne hesitated before unlocking it
and pushing the heavy structure open. Just as she’d suspected, Shana was
situated in the chair beside Brianne’s, working on the weekly schedule.

            Gritting her teeth,
Brianne pretended not to notice her second-in-command as she pulled out her
chair and plopped down. Waking up her computer, she bent her attention immediately
to the task ahead of her…or at least, she hoped that’s what it looked like. Letting
her eyes run down the facts and figures staring back at her, she tried to concentrate
on what she’d been doing earlier…

            “So, are you and that
guy dating or something?”

            Whipping her head up
at the unexpected words, Brianne turned to stare dumbly at Shana’s grinning
face. “What?” Unbidden, an image of Mitch floated across her mind: the gleam in
those dark eyes intense when he’d cornered her in the back hallway, his short
hair spiking up a little in the front, a byproduct of his fingers worrying it
as he’d spoken about the boys, his broad shoulders illuminated in the dim
shadows of the corridor. “Mitch?”

            “Oh, is that his name?” Shana
giggled. Wagging a finger at Brianne, she glared mockingly. “You minx. You never
said anything and he’s hot.”

            “Oh good Lord, he’s
not––”

            “The man looks able to
carry a girl over his shoulder and right through to the end of a romance novel.”

            Brianne rolled her
eyes, but she also chuckled. “All right, all right, calm down.”

            Shana smiled dreamily.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”

            “There’s actually a
very good reason for that,” Brianne assured her, wondering if she wasn’t making
the wrong choice. After all, it’d be easy enough to allow Shana to think what
she liked.

            “Oh?”

            “We aren’t dating.”

            “Oh.” Face falling, Shana
pursed her lips. “Then how…?”

            Brianne cleared her throat. “Those
boys…actually the whole Junior Varsity hockey team has been, well, teaching me
how to skate.”

            Shana’s eyes widened. “What?”

            “It was sort of an
accident,” Brianne felt compelled to explain. Within minutes she’d shared the
story of her meeting with the team to an utterly rapt Shana. Though her face
felt a bit itchy in the telling, Brianne only straightened her back and forced
a firmness to her voice she didn’t quite feel.

            Mitch had been right.
It wasn’t weird. Not unless she made it so. And besides, she figured Shana
would be the perfect audience to test this theory out on. Not much of a poker
face and a woman who loved to rib others, Shana wouldn’t have the least compunction
in informing Brianne that she was a weirdo.

            But the first thing
out of Shana’s mouth was only indignation: “So, did leather jacket ever come
back?”

            “Ah, no,” Brianne
admitted bemusedly. Truth be told, she’d hardly thought about him again. “He hasn’t.”

            “If he ever does, you better
rub your newfound abilities in his face. Skate circles around that creep!”

            “Okay,” Brianne
sounded out slowly. “Let’s just remember that the creep is still a teenager.”

            Shana snorted. “A jerk
teenager.”

            Laughing in relief,
Brianne conceded the point. “Fair enough.”

            “It’s sweet though,
that they came in tonight to tell you they won their game.”

            “Yeah, it is.”

            And that, it appeared,
was the end of Shana’s fascination. Blinking in surprise and abject delight,
Brianne watched her manager turn smartly back around in her chair and, without
further ado, continue work on her schedule.

            No snide comments.

            No jokes at Brianne’s
expense.

            Which decided Brianne’s
decision to speak next: “They’re pretty great kids. I’m, ah, I’m actually going
to need to cut out early on Thursday. I’m going to their next game.”

            Shana nodded easily. “Okay,
that shouldn’t be a problem. I’m here at two o’clock anyway, so I can cover the
odd hour before the closing supervisor comes in.”

***

Tucking her hands into the pockets of her jacket, Brianne hitched up
her shoulders as she entered the arena. Blinking, she felt slightly disoriented
at the mass of bodies spread across the stadium seats, the sight of a Zamboni
making a last sweep over the smoothly polished ice-rink, the buzz of activity
and anticipation zipping across the cold air.

            She was used to empty
benches. She was used to the quiet of only a few people milling about. Moving
quickly, her head bending low, she gained a narrow staircase to one side of the
circular arena, slowly climbing the concrete steps until, halfway up, she spied
a more-or-less abandoned area. Slipping inside the narrow aisle, she shuffled a
few steps down the row before plopping down. Shifting slightly, her gaze peered
cautiously, quickly around—what she could only assume where parents sat grouped
together, the wives sipping coffee as they gossiped, the men cheering and
jeering one another with a camaraderie that spoke of long-standing friendships.

            Settling firmly in her
seat, she tried to look inconspicuous, but she had a feeling that she was being
watched. The lone, unknown entity in a tight community where everyone knew
everyone and it had all to do with hockey.

            When the blessed sound
of an announcer’s voice suddenly blasted over the loudspeakers, Brianne took a stabilizing
breath. Finally, something to focus upon. Feeling her fingers curling into
tight balls in her jacket pockets, she promised herself she’d leave after the
first period. That was only twenty minutes, after all. Then, on Sunday she
could assure the boys that she had, indeed, gone to one of their games.

            She’d show Mitch that
she wasn’t the fickle, superficial woman he clearly suspected her of being. She
wouldn’t disappoint the boys. Not after all they’d done for her.

            One period. Twenty
minutes… Watching absently as the players, one-by-one, entered the ice from
their respective boxes, their names being individually called out until both
teams stood in a long line facing one another, Brianne tried to memorize
numbers to names.

            Charlie was number 31.

            Cory was 5.

            Lucas, 14.

            “…this seat taken?”

            At the question, asked
loudly in Brianne’s right ear, she jerked around to see a woman standing beside
her. Wearing a red-and-white flannel shirt over a thick turtleneck, the lady
appeared to be in her mid-forties—and her hair, testament to eighties fashion,
seemed to be stuck in her favorite decade, her bangs high and puffy, her
bottle-blonde hair mushrooming off her face thanks to a heavy-hand of
hair-spray. Her makeup, including a dash of blue eyeshadow, only further
pointed to this fact.

            At Brianne’s lack of
response, the woman nodded pointedly. “You waiting on someone?”

            “Oh.” With a start,
Brianne shook her head. “No, no…”

            “Yeah, I figured as
much,” that woman said as she settled down beside her. “I can always spot ‘em.”

            “Them?”

            The woman laughed, a
loud hacking sound. With a smile, she nudged Brianne. “I suppose I should say
‘us.’”

            Brianne’s eyebrows
furrowed. “Pardon me?”

            “Listen, these
cake-eaters may have gotten to keeptheirhome, but we have just as much right to
be here as they do. It’s ours now, too.”

            “I’m not sure I’m
following you.”

            The bottle-blonde
cocked her head to the side. “Don’t tell me you’re originally from West Scott?”

            “Me?” Brianne laughed
softly. “I’m not even originally from the area.”

            The lady frowned, her
smile faltering just the slightest bit. “You with the visiting team then?”

            “Ah, no…not, not
exactly.”

            The woman pursed her
lips. “Well then? Which is it?”

            “Listen, I don’t…I’m
just a fan.”

            “Huh?”

            Feeling her cheeks
pinken with the confession, Brianne shrugged stiffly. “The thing is—I just came
to support the kids. All of them,”
Brianne hurriedly assured her. “See, I come here on Sundays, during the open
rink hours, and well, I was having trouble stopping on the ice and—”

            “Wait a minute.” The
woman snapped her fingers together, another rough bark of laughter erupting
from her throat. “You’re that
woman—the one the boys are teaching to skate?”

            At the ringing blare
of that woman’s voice, Brianne felt her eyes helplessly prowling the bleachers,
checking to see just how much attention they were attracting. Thankfully, no
one seemed to be paying them the least bit of interest.

            Ducking her head,
Brianne nodded. “Yup.”

            “What’s your name
again, honey?”

            “Brianne. Brianne
Kelling.”

            “Sure, sure. Charlie
told me about you. Didn’t tell me you were coming to watch him play, though.”
The woman smiled. “Nice of ya.”

            Another bout of silent
relief flooded her system at the words. Okay, so even the parents of the players
thought it was normal, kind even, that Brianne had forged a bond with their
kids. It wasn’t pathetic. It was nice. But all Brianne said in response was,
“You’re Charlie’s mom?”         

            “That I am.” With a
quick movement, that lady held out her hand. “Danette. Pleasure to meet you.”

            Shaking her hand,
Brianne felt a helpless grin pulling at her lips. “You too.”

            “No wonder you looked
so out of sorts,” Danette said, nodding her head. “And here I thought I’d found
an ally.”

            “A what?”

            “Well, when the school’s
merged together…listen, these jerks from West Scott, they basically bullied all
of us East-enders right out the damn door.”

            “Merge?”

            Denise nodded. “Yup.
Used to be two high schools.”

            “Oh.” And suddenly, it
all made sense. Mitch’s easy acceptance of her presence on Sundays, Brian and
Frank’s amazement at the team-building that she seemed to inspire in those
young kids.

            “Been a bit of a rough
transition. For the kids and the parents.”

            “I’m sorry to hear
that.”

            Danette shrugged.
“Just sad, that’s all. They act like we don’t belong here.” She snorted. “As if
we asked to become one of them.”

            And sitting there, Brianne suddenly knew she’d break the promise she’d made to herself. She’d watch the entire game. Beside Danette.

The post The Inside Edge: Chapter Seven appeared first on LitLiber.

The Inside Edge: Chapter Six

            Brianne was sitting at
her desk, a half-eaten slice of pizza lying, half-forgotten on its plate, beside
her mouse, checking the inventory list when there was a knock at the door.
Without bothering to turn around, without bothering to take her eyes off the
screen, Brianne called out a brisk, “Come in.”

            “Ah, hey girl…”

            At the unusually hesitant
sound of Shana’s voice from behind her, Brianne finally pried her eyes away
from the numbers ahead of her. Shifting slightly in her seat, she brought her
eyes up—and stilled uncertainly at the look of bemused curiosity in that
younger woman’s gaze.

            “What’s up?” Brianne
was already half out of her chair as the words came out of her mouth. There was
a drunk brawl about to break out, a woman had passed out in the bathroom…the
fears of a restaurant manager swam dizzyingly before her.

            “There are people here
who requested to see you?”

            “Huh?”

            Shana smiled
mysteriously, almost slyly. “I didn’t realize you had family in the area?”

            “Family?” Brows
furrowing, Brianne shook her head. “I don’t.”

            “You sure?”

            “What are you talking about?”

            In answer, Shana only
laughed. “Okay, this I’ve got to see. Come with me.” Without a backward glance,
Shana pivoted, her steps retreating smartly from the doorway, her heels
clicking sharply on the polished hardwood floor.

            With a last, lingering
look at the computer screen, Brianne did as requested. Her ballet slippers were
almost silent as she followed behind her Service and Beverage Manager. Though
she didn’t want to admit it, Shana’s words had sparked a swell of curiosity in Brianne.

            Her mother? But no…if
she’d planned a trip to Idaho, she’d never have been able to keep it to
herself. Brianne knew it wouldn’t be her father. He was at a business
conference in Colorado. She’d spoken to him only that morning…

            These thoughts took
her down the back staircase and into a narrow hallway located off to one side
of the main floor. Navigating down the corridor and rounding the corner, her
steps quickly bypassing the bar area, Brianne took herself toward the main dining
room, only to stumble to a hard stop when she saw where Shana was headed.

            The table was situated
in the middle of the space, the checkered table-cloth all but disappeared
underneath four pizza pie pans, three pitchers of soda and at least seven
plates—huddled around all of which were hockey players. Familiar hockey
players.

            “Brianne!” Turning in
his seat at her approach, Cory raised his hand in the air, waving at her in an
endearingly frantic fashion.

            Standing beside his
chair, one eyebrow raised incredulously, was Shana.

            “Hey Cory,” Brianne
answered, though her voice was quiet, constrained as she hustled quickly
nearer.

            “See, I told you she’d
be here,” Cory said, turning back to the table of boys, which included Charlie,
George, Beau, Fred, and Coach.

            “Guess what?” George
asked, before quickly swallowing down a slice of pizza.

            Brianne smiled, but
out of the corner of her eye, she noted that Shana hadn’t departed from the
table. Indeed, the younger woman seemed only too comfortable standing there,
observing what was undoubtedly a fascinating turn of events.

            Brianne cringed
internally, wondering how many people would hear about this before Shana was
through.

            Forcing her
concentration back to the boys, Brianne smiled at George. “What?”

            In turn, he looked
from Charlie to Beau and Cory and, in unison, they all shouted: “We won!” This
was accompanied by four fists pounding excitedly on the table.

            “Hey, enough of that,”
Coach insisted, but his voice was level, laid-back as he spoke to the boys.

            Still, they all
apologized, but the smiles on their faces belied any true remorse.

            “You did?” Brianne
asked excitedly. “That’s—that’s amazing! Great job guys!”

            “That’s why we’re
here,” Cory informed her, with a quick incline of his head toward his father.
“We thought it deserved a celebratory dinner.”

            “And for some reason,
the boys got it completely stuck in their heads that they needed to come here,”
Coach intoned, giving her a dry look. “Guess we know why now, don’t we, Fred?”

            The assistant coach chuckled.
“Guess so.”

            “We knew Ms. Kelling
would be excited.”

            “And I am,” Brianne
was quick to assure the boys. Scrambling, her eyes leveled over the table as a
small smile curved across her lips. “In fact, these pizzas are on the house
tonight.”

            “What’s that mean?”
George mouthed to Coach.

            “It means they’re
free, idiot,” Beau answered.

            “Thanks,” Coach said,
lifting up a hand, his eyes steady on Brianne, “but that’s not necessary.”

            “I never said it was,”
she returned. “But it’s certainly within my rights as the general manager.”
Leaning down she gave the boys a conspiratorial wink. “And you guys are
right—this is a celebration!”

            Feeling the steady,
unrelenting wide-eyed gaze of Shana behind her, with a sharp turn of her head,
Brianne caught the tail end of that girl’s goofy grin. Raising one eyebrow
pointedly, Brianne stared back at her, refusing to acknowledge the heat rising
up her neck, refusing to acknowledge the embarrassment and conspicuousness clinging
to her body. “Shana? Is there something else you need?”

            “No,” Shana assured her.
Still, she didn’t make a move to leave.

            The dirty rotten
little eavesdropper. Only, Brianne wasn’t sure how to express that without
admitting that, well, that she didn’t want anyone to overhear her part
in this conversation, her obvious familiarity with this group…

            Stemming the thought, refusing
to admit to the guilt of where her admission was headed, Brianne refocused her
intention. Being direct with Shana was out of the question. So Brianne opted
for redirection. “Okay, well, in that case, I’m sure the chefs would love it if
you helped them in the back. Probably they could use an expo right about now,” Brianne
said, turning to look pointedly at the crowded tables. “Considering how busy we
are.”

            There was absolutely no
denying the order in that suggestion.

            “Of course,” Shana
said, the cheekiness gone from her voice now. “I’ll just head back there now then,
shall I?” But it wasn’t a question.

            “Hey, don’t let us
keep you either,” Coach insisted as Shana took her hasty leave. The sound of
his voice brought Brianne’s attention back to the table.

            ‘No, no, not at all,”
she insisted, turning to make a face at the boys when she grumbled, “You only interrupted
me from boring paperwork.”

            “In that case, it’s
too bad you missed our game,” Cory said. “I got a goal.”

            “You did?” Brianne
realized she was probably too pleased by the mention of Cory’s success, but it
did little to lessen the rush of happiness at the news.

            “Me too.” This came
from Beau.

            “You wouldn’t have if
I hadn’t checked that guy…”

            “I wish I could have been
there to see all this in person,” Brianne said, her voice rising quickly over
what was fast going to turn into a squabbling match.

            As it happened, she
would come to regret that comment.

            “Well, we have another
game on Tuesday,” Cory informed her, turning to look up at her with baleful,
innocent eyes.

            Brianne’s smile froze
just the tiniest bit on her face. In her mind’s eye, she saw again that mocking
little smile on Shana’s face, heard again her incredulity in Brianne’s office,
her exaggerated amusement when Brianne greeted the table. It was only a matter
of time before she’d be asked to explain this odd little community of hockey
players, until she’d be forced to face the reality of the particularly
mortifying (maybe even creepy) position she currently found herself in. Friends
with a bunch of high-schoolers.

            And suddenly, it all
felt a bit…different.

            “Oh. Well, geez, guys.
I’m sure I’d love to go…”

            “We also have one on
Thursday, as well,” George chimed-in.

            Brianne felt her face
heating up once again as she fidgeted from one foot to another, trying to find
the right words, pleading for diplomacy and tact. “Well. I mean, thanks guys. I-I,
look, my schedule is pretty hectic right now though…”

            “We typically play
Tuesdays and Thursdays, but sometimes we play on Mondays.” George again.

            Cory. “Or Wednesdays.”

            Charlie. “We even have
a couple of tournaments.”

            “Those are fun. We
stay in hotels,” George notified her.

            At the onslaught of
words, Brianne nodded, but her eyes refused to meet those of the boys staring
at her. “Yeah, sure. And like I said, I’m definitely going to try to make a
game but I can’t promise anything right now.”

            “Right,” Beau snorted,
the sudden inclusion of his voice, sharply edged and gritty, brought all other
voices to a close. Snapping her gaze over to him, Brianne felt a pang at the
petulant expression she met. “Where have I heard that before?” Looking down at
his plate, Beau stabbed his fork into his slice of pizza. “Listen, if you don’t
want to come, then don’t. It’s not like it’s a big deal.”

            The words, so angry
and vehement, landed against Brianne’s ears with the force of a blow. They
landed against the table with a slap, each of the boy’s smiles slowly lessening
as they looked from Beau’s scowl to Brianne’s open-mouthed gap and back again.

            “No,” Brianne rushed
to say, “that’s absolutely not––”

            “Whatever.”

            Brianne’s eyes
swiveled helplessly now in search of the Coach’s gaze, looking for a little reinforcement.
She was unnerved at the look of dismissal she caught there instead. Her voice
lowered, pleading now: “No. No, you’ve got it all wrong. We just, we just had
someone quit a few days ago.” A bold lie. “So I’m just filling in a couple of
extra shifts lately.” Her arms swung out to her sides as Brianne turned back to
the boys, braving their expressions. “But I’m definitely going to catch a game
this season. I just meant, you know, that it might not be in the next week or
so. That’s all.”

            Cory smiled up at her
disarmingly. “No problem. Seasons just started.”

            “Yeah. Maybe Coach
could give you our team schedule.” This offer came from Charlie. “It’s got all the
games listed on it.”

            “She doesn’t want a
damned schedule,” Beau muttered.

            Brianne stuck out her chin.
“Yes, she does want one.” In retaliation, she turned to smile at Charlie and
then Cory and George. “I can’t wait to watch you guys kick butt.”

            Coach cleared his
throat. “If you want it, I can get you a copy on Sunday.”

            Brianne smiled
tightly. “Perfect.” She wasn’t sure if it was a good idea anymore, these Sunday
skates.

            Clasping her hands
together, Brianne nodded to no one in particular. “Well, that sounds great.”
Taking a decisive step backward, she gave each of the boys a fleeting smile, or
at least she tried to. Beau still refused to meet her glance, his shoulders
hunched and his head bent low as he scarfed down another slice of pizza.

            Waving absently behind
her, Brianne made another move in retreat. “Well, I really should be getting
back to it. Boring paperwork and all…”

            “Thanks for coming
over to say ‘hi’,” Coach offered quietly. “And for the pizza, though you really
don’t need to—”

            “No, no, I insist,”
Brianne said, her words forestalling the argument she could feel brewing on his
lips. “And hey guys, again, congratulations!”

            With those slightly-tuneless
words peppering the air, Brianne turned and walked back the way she’d come, her
feet taking her quickly out of the dining room and into the bar. Giving the
full counter a cursory glance, Brianne took a sharp left, back down the dark
hallway that, at its end, offered a set of stairs up to her office.

            She’d just grabbed the
railing with one hand, her left foot already lifting to the first step, when
she heard his voice.

            “Ah, Ms. Kelling. Wait
up just a minute.”

            Pinning a determined
smile on her face, Brianne turned her head, her eyes narrowing slightly as she
watched Coach lumber toward her. On the one hand, she was glad for the darkened
corridor, which partly shielded the weary lines etched across her face. On the
other, she also couldn’t gauge his facial expressions, either.

            “Yes, Coach?”

            He grinned at that, the
flash of his straight white teeth clearly visible. “My name is Mitch.”

            Brianne swallowed,
feeling her face flush. “Right.” Tugging restlessly at the hem of her shirt,
she squirmed. “Well, actually no, I didn’t know that…”

            “Listen,” rubbing a
hand against the side of his neck, Mitched frowned, “don’t lie to them, okay?”

            Brianne’s eyebrows
arched. “Excuse me?”

            “The kids.”

            “Yeah, I mean, I knew who you
were talking about…”

            “If you have no
intention of ever going to a game, just say so. They’d rather hear that I
promise. I know you mean well, but––”

            Brianne’s lips
puckered. Hands coming to rest on her hips, she jutted out her chin. “Why is it
that everyone just assumes that I’m not going to a game?”

            “Maybe because we all
saw your face when the boys mentioned it.”

            At the words, a rush
of shame flooded Brianne’s person. “I was just…”

            “Trying to be
diplomatic,” Mitch supplied for her.

            “It’s not that.”

            “Listen, it’s fine. In
fact, I probably owe you an apology.”

            Brianne’s eyes
narrowed suspiciously.

            “Maybe I was too
encouraging of them helping you learn to skate. It’s just—” sighing again,
Mitch’s fingers were now running through his close-cropped hair. “These kids.
They’ve had a hard year…some more than others.”

            “Beau?”

            As her eyes grew accustomed
to the dim lighting, Brianne saw Mitch’s shuttered expression at her guess.
With a mental step, she backed off.

            “It’s none of my
business, of course…”

            “It’s just, with you,
these kids forget it all. The politics and the losses. For the first time, they
started working together.”

            “Yes.” Brianne bit
down slightly on her lower lip. “Yes, you said something like that before.”

            “And I’m sorry if I
was putting you in a position that you didn’t ask for…”

            “Okay, hold up.”
Raising one hand for emphasis, Brianne cut him off. “You’re right, I didn’t ask
to be the boys, I don’t know, mediator on the ice or whatever, but I certainly
didn’t decline the offer once it was made, either.”

            Mitch nodded once.
“No, I know.”

            Brianne took a deep
breath.

            “I’m saying, be
careful. These kids, they need consistency right now. They need reliability.”
Mitch shook his head. “So if you don’t want to go to a game, if you can’t make
a single one, that’s okay. It really is. Just don’t feed them false hope.
They’ve gotten too much of that lately.”

            Brianne took in a deep
breath, battling back the urge to deny his charge. “You really love these
kids.”

            Mitch smiled. “Yeah. I
do.”

            “They’re lucky to have
you.”

            Mitch averted his
gaze.

            “And look,” reaching
out, Brianne brought her fingers against his forearm. She figured, by this
point, she owned him at least something of the truth. “You’re partly right. I
was being evasive with the boys.”

            Mitch snorted.

            “But it’s not what
you’re thinking.” Shifting on her feet, Brianne started to have reservations
about her confession. Ducking her head, she mumbled. “It’s just…I’m new in
town. And you know, I don’t know many people. In fact, I don’t really know
anyone.”

            Cocking his head to
one side, Mitch clearly wasn’t picking up the thread of her loose ramblings.
“Okay?”

            “So. You know, it’s just…I
wouldn’t have anyone to go to a game with.”

            His lips jerked into a
smile. “It’s a spectator sport. Not a lot of conversation happens at games. Or at
least, not a lot needs to happen.”

            Brianne rolled her
eyes. “Obviously. I know that, but….”

            “But?”

            “Well, I mean I guess it just
seems weird. You know, that my entire social structure is based on a high
school hockey team.”

            Mitch bit back a
laugh. “This is about your ego?”

            “No!” Brianne gritted
her teeth. “But it’s just a bit…weird, you know?”

            “Too old to be their
friend?”

            “No. But…”

            “Would it make it less
weird if I said that I wanted you there, too?”

            Brianne’s mouth
dropped open a little bit.

            “…and Fred and Brian
do, too.”

            Smiling quickly,
Brianne nodded inanely, oddly disappointed by those last additions. “Right.”

            “So hey, your social
circle is definitely aging. And growing.”

            “Great. Mockery.
That’s just what I need.”

            “Oh, chill out, Kelling.”

            “My name is Brianne.”

            Mitch smiled at that.
“Brianne.”

            Almost against her
will, Brianne found herself smiling back. “Okay, when you put it like that, it
sounds kind of ridiculous.’

            “So? You going catch a game?”

            Brianne nodded once. “Yes.”

            “Okay.” Nodding toward
the stairs, Mitch took a quick step backward. “Well, I won’t keep you any
longer.”

            “Oh,” Brianne followed
the direction of his gaze. Responding in kind, she reached for the handrail
once more. “Yeah. I really should get, ah, back to it,” she ended lamely.
Giving him a last half-smile, she climbed up the first couple of steps only to
twist back around abruptly.

            “Mitch?” she called
out.

            Slowing to a stop, he turned
back to her, his eyebrows raised in question.

            Brianne hated the lie,
but she figured it was the lesser of two evils, really…

            “I wasn’t lying
earlier. The next week or so my schedule is crazy here but, but after
that…well, after that, I’ll be more free.”

            With a slight incline
of his head, Mitch acknowledged her words. “Sounds good.”

            “Okay. Well…see you
Sunday.”

            Climbing up the
stairs, Brianne wasn’t sure if she wanted to smile or cry. She couldn’t back
out now. Not on any of it.

            She’d be there for
open-skate like always.

            And she’d make it to a
game.

            No matter what, she
wouldn’t disappoint those boys.

The post The Inside Edge: Chapter Six appeared first on LitLiber.

The Inside Edge: Chapter Five

            Her short hair whipped
sharply against her cheeks, the cold air swirling, biting at her neck and escaping
from her mouth in cloudy puffs as she raced forward. Her body seemed to rock
back and forth, back and forth, swaying naturally as she settled into position,
her legs pumping gracefully against the translucent gleam of frozen water underneath
her feet.

            The edge of the pond
came in sight, the perimeter mounded with the bulk of half-frozen snow. Twirling,
her skates zigged and zagged as she flew backward, her movements rhymical as
the air rushed at her from behind, her legs only shifting at the last minute,
cutting elegantly into the ice, her body a delicate reed blowing effortlessly
with the motion as she came to a quick, hard stop.

            For a moment, she poised
that way, her arms swanned out demurely at her sides, her head tilted to a defiant
angle, her legs standing straight and sure on the frozen ground.

            “You did it!”

            At the words, Brianne’s
lips pulled apart. Spinning around, her hands curling into fists, she pumped the
air. Her skates jumped a little on the ice. “I did it!” she cried, closing her
eyes to savor the moment. “I did it!”

            “I’m so damn proud of
you.”

            With a pop, her eyes re-opened.
Staring up at the face, those incredibly brown eyes, bent so close to hers, her
green eyes blazed in reaction When his arms snaked around her waist, Brianne
responded by settling her hands against his shoulders.        

            “Thanks Coach,” she offered,
her voice a mere mist of sound. Arching her back just the slightest bit, her
lips fell open as she reached upward.

            “Anytime,” he murmured,
as his mouth descended, crashing against hers—

            “Jesus!” With a jerk,
Brianne pulled herself awake. Snapping upright, she leaned back against her
headboard, her knees drawing up tight to her chest with the action. Wrapping her
arms around her legs, she dropped her head forward. The dream rolled across the
canvas of her tightly closed eyes.

            “This is what happens
when you go over a year without sex,” she admonished herself, physically
shaking herself clean of the memory, of the dream. Scrambling out of bed, she felt
her lips curling. “I mean, the coach?”

            She laughed but there
was nothing of humor in the sound as she yanked her bedroom door open. Shuffling
on the beige carpeting, she crept down the hall to her bathroom. “I mean, the coach?”

            It was just a dream.

            “Clearly, you need to
get out more,” she muttered. With a flick of her wrist, she turned on the tap
water. Cupping her hands under the facet, she leaned forward, splashing her
face. “Yeah, that’s it.”

            Unbidden, the image of
the man in questions flashed across her consciousness. Scowling at the soggy
face glaring back at her, Brianne rolled her eyes. “I mean, okay, so it’s not
like the man’s ugly or anything.”

            He had strong, broad
shoulders.

            A nice butt.

            “Not that I was
looking but…well, on skates and all—”

            And she didn’t even
know his damn name.

            “No. Enough. Maybe it’s
time,” she informed herself, reaching for a towel to dry her face. “Maybe it’s
time to dry online dating or something.”

            Anything.  

            “Because having sex
dreams about hockey dads,” she made a face. “Come on girl, even you can do
better than that.”

            He also had a nice
jawline. Firm but not too square…

            “Oh, shut up,” she
muttered to herself, marching back to bed. With a crack, she opened and slammed
the door shut. “Now, it’s going to be all weird when you see him again.”

            Luckily, that didn’t
turn out to be quite true. At least, it wasn’t too weird. So yeah, if she was a
bit quiet when she noticed him arrive—and for God’s sake, why’d she have to
notice the moment he stepped foot in the arena, his long legs encased in faded
blue jeans and paired with the habitual sweatshirt and black baseball cap—Brianne
chalked that up to concentration.

            According to the boys,
she was making excellent progress.

            And if she was a
little hurried in her goodbyes, her eyes carefully watching the clock so as not
to give the coach reason to enter into their skate time and separate her from
her only source of a protection, a gaggle of teenaged defenders, Brianne
assured the boys, who half-heartedly protested her sudden announcement to leave,
that she had work waiting for her

            “But it’s Sunday,”
Lucas informed her smugly.

            “Yes, well…” Brianne shrugged,
“restaurants are open on Sundays, too, you know.”

            Cory tilted his head a
little to one side, his eyes narrowing just slightly on the words. “You work at
a restaurant?”

            Gliding alongside the boards,
Brianne nodded as she headed for the far side of the arena, where her exit
awaited.  

            “As a waitress?”

            “They liked to be
called servers, Derrick.”

            Derrick rolled his
eyes at George’s reprimand. “Whatever.”

            Holding up a hand, Brianne
interceded, as she’d quickly learned to do. When the conversation dipped away
from hockey, the boys tended to—aggravate one another. “No, I’m not a server. I’m
a manager.”

            “What restaurant?”

            Nearing her destination,
Brianne paused to smile over at Cory. “The Fitz Avery.”

            “Oh, I like that
place,” he informed her, his legs easily keeping pace with her movements.

            “Who doesn’t like
pizza?” The obviously rhetorical question came from George.

            Brianne winked at him.
“And that’s just the kind of attitude we want our customers to have when they
walk in.”

            “Are you sure you need
to leave now?” This came from Lucas again, trailing a bit behind them.

            Pulling up at the door
leading off the ice, Brianne turned around, her eyes dancing with mischief. “You
just want to delay starting practice.” She wagged a finger playfully. “Don’t
think you’re fooling anyone.”

            Lucas ducked his head.

            Cory laughed. “See you
next week?”

            “Sure.”

            With that, she slowly
levered herself off the ice.

            “Nice skating, Ms.
Kelling,” Brian said, meeting her halfway to the bleachers. “You’re really catching
the hang of it.”

            Smiling from him to
Fred, who seemed to be forever beside the younger man, Brianne nodded. “Thanks.
Yeah, it’s slowly coming back.”

            “What is?”

            At the sound of his voice,
Brianne felt herself stiffen just slightly. “My skating,” she mumbled. Reaching
the bleachers, she plopped down along the long, wooden bench. Bending down at
the waist, she quickly took to unlacing her ice-skates. A weary sigh wheezed
out of her mouth. “Though…”

            Brian. “Though?”

            “I mean, I never really meant
to get that good at the sport.”

            “Huh?” The question
came from Fred.

            Glance up at him
through her bangs, Brianne smiled. “When I stopped here that first time, I just
thought—hey, I haven’t skated in ages. Might be fun.”

            From her peripheral
vision, Brianne saw the coach’s lips tug up a little at the words, his arms coming
to rest against his hips. He had nice, tapered fingers—

            Nope. No. Not again.

            Shaking her head forcefully,
Brianne forcused her attention. “And now I’m getting private lessons. For free.”

            “Can’t beat free.”

            “Yeah? Only, I don’t
know what I’m going to do with all these skills once I learn them.”

            When she felt Fred
kneel down beside her, Brianne realized the atmosphere around them had changed.
“But what about the boys?”

            “The boys?”

            “They’re learning skills too.”

            Brianne nodded slowly
as the weight, the gravity of the words sank through. Neither coach or Brian
spoke, but she noticed that they were paying close attention. Blowing out a
hard breath, she nodded again. “Yes.”

            “And what they’re
learning is…well, it’s crucial.”

            Brianne pulled her
lips inside her mouth before slowly, carefully nodding. “I know.”

            Seemingly satisfied with
her answers, Fred patted her knee once before bouncing back to his feet. Out of
the corner of her she saw Fred and Brian meander off. The coach, however,
stayed back. Determinedly, Brianne went back to her ice-skates. Lending her
mind carefully to the task at hand, she swore she felt his eyes on her down bent
head but she pretended to ignore the fizzle of awareness fluttering against her
stomach.

            “You got done early
today.”

            Pulling her feet out
of the skates, Brianne nodded as she flexed her toes in their thick socks. “Yeah…”

            “I meant what I said
last week.”

            “I’m sure you did.”

            He grunted. “Well…just
know it’s not necessary.”

            Peeking up at him
quickly, she smiled. “Have a good practice.”

            He nodded. “Right.”
Turning on his heel, he walked away, his steps taking him unerringly toward the
ice, where the boys were standing, huddled near Brian and Fred. Brianne swallowed
as she watched his steady progress. She’d never before experienced the
sensation of having to forcefully restrain herself from checking out a man’s
butt. She didn’t like it, either.  

            With a strangled
curse, she reached under the bench for where she’d stashed her shoes earlier in
the afternoon. Slipping them on, she grabbed up her skates.

            “Stupid, fucking
dream.”

The post The Inside Edge: Chapter Five appeared first on LitLiber.

The Inside Edge: Chapter Four

The next morning, easing gently into her office chair, Brianne barely
bit back a groan as she stared across the cramped office. Marketing advertisements
from bygone years graced the badly chipped walls—the posters portraying a broad
and enticing array of foods and drinks: families huddled around a table buffeted
with pizzas, a baseball team grinning up at the camera with hamburgers and milkshakes
held beside a large first-place trophy, women drinking from champagne glasses,
their lipsticked mouths creased with laughter….

            Hardly offering them
more than an absent glance, Brianne woke up her tablet computer. Stifling back
a yawn, she pulled up the liquor inventory list.

            “Hard at it, already, I
see.”

            Shifting slightly in
her chair, Brianne’s eyes glanced up to catch sight of her assistant manager,
Shana, entering the small room. Tall and leggy, with impossibly curly hair,
Shana was uniquely loved by the staff for both her beauty and her kindness.

Though they’d only known one another for a couple of weeks, Brianne had quickly learned to trust and respect the younger woman. It had been a point of concern for Brianne when she’d first transferred to the Idaho branch of The Fitz Avery restaurant. Shana had also applied for the general manager position but Brianne, with her experience, had been given the job instead. Usurped by an interloper.

            When she’d first met
Shana, she’d hoped that the younger woman would be able to curb any potential resentment
or disappointment at being denied the promotion. She’d prayed they’d be able to
work together, forge a united team as the front of house management.

            What she’d encountered
that first meeting had effectively ended her worries. Shana had been generously
welcoming, taking the time to introduce Brianne to the staff, to give her insight
into the culture workings of the group, and offer her help in any capacity that
Brianne saw fit. There had been no machinations for destruction, no sour, surly
glares. Brianne had been more than just impressed. She’d been relieved. Here
was a woman of substance, of loyalty—of professionalism.

            As the thoughts rolled
through Brianne’s head, she smiled at her second in command. “How was the
weekend?”

            Shana rolled her eyes
eloquently, one beautifully manicured hand flapping dismissively at the air. “Oh,
you know. The usual.”

            “Crazy chaos?” Brianne
pursed her lips amusedly as she grabbed her tablet.

            “Yeah—and Charlie was
late. Again.”

            Charlie was their highest-ranking
bartender. Rakishly handsome, with full lips and a large sea-green eyes,
Charlie brought in a lot of business by appearance alone. But his finely-muscled
physique, the byproduct of hours spent at the gym each afternoon, was only surpassed
by his quick wit and chivalrous attitude. He was the clear fan favorite.

            Still, rules were rules.

            “I thought you talked
to him.”

            Shana nodded. “I did.”

            Brianne sighed. “Okay,
I’ll have another word with him this afternoon.” Moving automatically, Brianne bounded
to her feet. Thankfully, the tablet she held in her hand didn’t hit the floor.
Gasping at the jarring pull of her screaming muscles, Brianne stilled. Her free
hand pressed against her back, soothing the muscles. “Christ,” she sighed.

            Shana’s eyebrows
lifted. “You okay?”

            Brianne nodded. “Yeah.”

            “You look beat.”

            Brianne slowly
straightened. “Yeah, it’s kind of a long story.” Bringing the tablet up to her
chest, she glared at the younger woman standing beside her. “And stop looking
like that, would you?”

            “Me? Looking like what?”

            Brianne glowered. “Like
a twenty-two-year old with boundless energy.”

            Shana laughed. “Here,
why don’t you let me do that,” she said, holding out her hand for the tablet.

            Brianne’s lips
puckered stubbornly.

            Shana made a face. “You
barely got out of that chair. You really want to bend down and dig through the
bar counters counting liquor bottles?”

            Sighing, Brianne gave
her the tablet. “I could do it.”

            “Well, of course.”

            “What are you working
on,” Brianne offered, bringing herself slowly back to her seat. “We’ll
trade-off.”

            “Fair enough.” Moving beside
her, Shana reached for the mouse beside the desktop computer. A couple clicks
later, she pulled up an invoice.

            “What’s this for?”
Brianne asked as her eyes read down the order sheet.

            “It’s for some new
pizza pans and stands,” Shana informed her, stepping back now.

            Brianne’s eyebrows
furrowed. “Stands? For the tables, you mean?”

            “Uh, yeah?”

            “Oh.”

            At the hesitation in
her boss’s voice, Shana frowned. “Didn’t you guys use those in—what, where did
you transfer in from?”

            “Chisago. Minnesota.”

            Shana nodded. “Right.
From there.”

            “No, actually we didn’t
use those,” Brianne confessed. “I mean, obviously we used pizza pans but
instead of stands, we’d set them on top the large cans of tomato sauce.”
Working in the restaurant, the cans were of an industrial size. The customers
had always found it hilarious when their servers had plopped the enormous metal
tins, picturing sundried tomatoes, down on the table before setting the pizzas on
top.

            “Really?”

            Brianne shrugged. “We thought
it was kind of…”

            “Kitschy?”

            “We were going more for eclectic.”

“I thought The Fitz Avery was supposed to be totally corporate—everything across the board, exactly the same, from store to store.”

            Brianne shrugged.
Looking over her shoulder, she offered Shana a wink. “Yeah, well…sometimes I
can be a rebel.”

            Shana smiled. Shifting from one foot to the next, she seemed on the verge of saying something. Her mouth moved to open and then closed again.

            “What’s up?” Brianne
asked when the silence only seemed to stretch between them.

            “Well, I mean, it’s none
of my business.”

            “Okay?” Swiveling in
her chair, Brianne gave Shana the weight of her full attention. In the weeks
she’d come to know the other woman, Brianne couldn’t remember Shana ever being
so mealy-mouthed.

            “What, what made you
decide to come here? To this store?”

            Brianne leaned back in
her chair. She should have been expecting this question. It was only fair that
Shana show some curiosity. Taking a moment, Brianne sorted out her thoughts.

            “I mean, I’m not saying…”
Shana shook her head as twin spots of color took shape over her high cheekbones.
“What I mean is, I’m glad that you did. I mean that. Really—”

            “I knew what you
meant.”

            “I don’t want you to think
that I—”

            “Shana.” Brianne held
up one hand. “It’s a fair question.”

            Swallowing, Shana
nodded.

            “I guess, without
sounding too cavalier about the whole thing, I came here because it was the
only store in the corporation hiring for a GM.”

            Shana waited a beat
before nodding. Slowly. “Oh.”

            “I mean,” feeling the need to defend that weak reason, Brianne searched for the right words, “I’d also visited here once. Years ago. I’d remembered how much I loved it.”

            “I see.”

            “And my memory was
right. It’s beautiful.”

            “But you didn’t—no
family or friends?”      

            Brianne smiled sadly. “Here,
you mean?”

            Shana nodded, her eyes
steady, intent on Brianne’s expressions.

            “I moved here alone.”

            “Oh.”

            “There’s no great
story behind that,” Brianne rushed to assure her. “In case you were thinking
that.”

            Shana nodded again. “Yeah,
no. I wasn’t.” Her eyes flickered down to the tablet still in her grasp, her
legs shifting from side-to-side again. “Right. Well…” taking a step backward,
Shana nodded toward the door. “I better get going on this, huh?”

            Brianne smiled. “Probably.”

            Only, at the last
second, her hand on the doorknob, Shana stilled. She didn’t turn back around
when she said, “I’m glad. Really. That you’re here. I think, I think I’ll learn
a lot from you.”

            “And I’ll learn just
as much from you, I’m sure.”

The post The Inside Edge: Chapter Four appeared first on LitLiber.

The Inside Edge: Chapter Three

            By the time that the
rink cleared enough for Brianne to begin her second round of stops, she was
sorely tempted to call it a day. Her thighs ached with the strain of keeping
her body upright and effortless as she glided around, taking the corners,
attempting to keep pace with the boys beside her—which was mortifying, since
she knew how slowly they were moving.

            “Doing great!”

            “Don’t lock your
knees.”

            “Don’t tense so much!”

            “That’s it. Ease into
the turn!”

            Pleased with herself,
she rather felt she’d more-or-less managed to keep from looking downright inept.
So, yes, okay she fell twice but as Cory and the boys stopped to help her
scramble back to her feet, they didn’t so much as crack a grin, not even when a
small shriek or two escaped her mouth.

            Now, watching as a
family slowly levered themselves off the rink, Brianne felt an innate protest
rise up in her throat when Cory turned to her.

            “I think we’re clear
for takeoff.”

            “Takeoff?” There was
no hiding the reluctance in her voice.

            “Don’t worry, Ms. Kelling.
Now that you’ve found a more solid footing, I don’t think stopping will be so
tough.”

            Which is how she found
herself, yet again, stationed against one wall of the arena, pushing forward at
the Cory’s go-ahead. Feeling her legs shove and stretch as she raced toward the
opposite end, Brianne’s eyes narrowed on her destination. She tried to remember
their teachings—shift, lean, lift and lower. It was about finding the right
angle…  

            However, when she felt
her legs fly out from underneath her, the blades of her skates crunching up against
the boards, Brianne only whimpered. Her shoulder, where it’d smacked against
the ice, immediately tensed as pain sliced through her consciousness.

            “What a wipeout.”

            “Yeah, nicely done.”

            Laughing weakly,
Brianne carefully brought herself to her feet. Rubbing her shoulder, she tried
not to wince at the eager faces pointed her way. “Okay. I guess, ah, let’s try
again?”

            At the whoop of cheers
her words received, Brianne knew she’d said the right thing. Moving carefully,
she got herself back into position.

            “Maybe just…”

            Brianne’s eyes shifted
at the reluctant words which had been said from George. When her gaze met his,
she watched a slow rise of color spread across his face.

            “Maybe just?”

            “Maybe just don’t, you know, skate so fast?”

            “Yeah, there’s no
rush.”

            “It’s more about
finding the balance than mastering the speed.”

            Swallowing past a
surge of bruised pride, Brianne nodded her head once, sharply. “Okay.”

            So they tried again.
And again. And she fell again, and again. Until… On her fifth attempt, she
almost had it. She almost stayed upright. Cutting an even angle, she felt her
skates connect on the ice, slide roughly before stuttering to a slow fumbling
stop. For a moment, just one brief moment, she kept her balance. And then it
all fell apart. Her equilibrium crumbled as her body jerked at the unnatural
pitch and position. It began with the slightest sway of her upper-shoulders,
followed by an undeniable pull of gravity. Her hips swerved and before she
could fully let the smile breaking across her mouth come to fruition, Brianne
felt her arms swinging out instinctively, rolling first forward and then
backward, as she tried to pull herself straight.

            “Whoa—oh no!”

            With a plop, Brianne
landed hard on her bottom. “Well, shoot,” she grumbled, looking down at her
legs spread out before her.

            “Oh man, you were so
close!” Charlie cried, coming to flying halt beside her. He smiled widely.

            “Yeah,” Cory echoed. “I
thought for sure you had it that time.”

            Gingerly, Brianne rose.
“Yeah, me too,” she sighed. She glanced at the boys. “Sorry guys.”

            “No way!”

            “Yeah—and at least
this time you didn’t scream.”

            “Well, not much,
anyway.”

            The sudden, shrill
sound of a whistle brought all heads snapping around. Brianne’s eyes widened,
just as they’d done the week before, when she’d first laid eyes on the man now
confidently striding toward them. “All right, boys. Enough for today.”

            “Hey Coach.”

            “What time is it?”
George asked.

            “Ten minutes past warm-ups.”

            There was no question
of obedience. Quickly, the group dispersed, heading toward the players bench on
one side of the arena.

            “See ya, Ms. Kelling,”
Cory hollered over his shoulder. A few others waved in goodbye.

            “Great job, today,”
George said.

            At the words, which
sounded so ill-fittingly adult, coming out of the mouth of such a young
teenager, Brianne was forced to bite back a smile. Instead, she nodded
seriously, thanking them quietly as the boys passed by.

            Two other adults
gained the ice then. Pushing a goalie net between them, they slowly advanced
toward where Brianne and the Coach still stood. Feeling flustered, and not
entirely sure why, she pushed anxious as her hat, offering a small smile to the
man the boys referred to as ‘Coach.’. “Hockey practice?”

            He nodded.

            Her cringed “We ran
late, again, didn’t we?”

            He nodded again, the
lines around his eyes crinkling a little as something nearing amusement flashed
across his face. “’Fraid so.”

            “Shoot. Listen, I’m
sorry,” Brianne rushed to say, not sure if she was apologizing on behalf of the
boys or herself. “I promise, this won’t become a habit.” Shuffling out of the
way now, she watched as the other two men slowly approached, positioning the net.

            The coach’s voice,
however, brought her gaze swinging back around. “Like I said last time, I could
have called it quits whenever.”

            “Still, I’ll try to be
more respectful of the time.”

            Leaning down, his
voice only just carried to her ears. “No one likes a clock-watcher.”

            Her mouth gaping at the
words, she glanced up at him questioning. The slight glint in his brown eyes
assured her he was joking. She laughed weakly, one wrist flipping toward the ice
at their feet. “Thank God. I’ve never been terribly good at telling the time from
upside down, anyway.”

            He moved back now, his
voice no longer lowered. “Nah, you almost had it.”

            Opening her mouth at
the unexpected words, nonplussed, before she could speak, another voice entered
the conversation.

            “Especially that last
run. You nearly stuck it!”

            Brianne’s eyes widened,
her head shifting to catch sight of the speaker—the voice of which belonged to
one of the other two men on the rink.

            The man smiled back at
her. Tall, incredibly slender, his bright red hair was only half-disguised
under the brim of his hat. “Brian Dennis—and this is Fred Coolidge.” With a jut
of his chin, he nodded toward the slightly stooped figure of the man beside
him. Fred looked to be quickly nearing the age of retirement.

            “Brianne Kelling,” she
returned, all the while conspicuously aware that she still didn’t know Coach’s
name. Before she could ask him, though, another thought occurred to her. “Wait.
You were watching?” Her eyes flew from one to the next. “The whole time?”

            The coach laughed, the
husky sound catching quietly in the air as the men and Brianne, perforce, moved
toward the edge of the rink. “No.”

            “Oh.”
           “Only once practice started.”

            “Oh.”

            The coach winked. “I
mean, that’s kind of our job.”

            The older gentlemen—Fred—guffawed hoarsely. “You’ve got try, girl. I’ll give you that.”

            Brianne smiled shyly,
fighting and miserably failing to keep the blush off her face. “The boys are
good teachers.”

            “Yeah.” Brian
whistled, his voice coming out low now, controlled. “That was…that something to
see.”

            The coach looked at
him. “I told you.”

            “Yeah,” Brian sighed, shaking
his head, “but until today—”

            “They were working
together,” Fred said.

            “As a team.”

            “No bickering.”

            “Not once.”

            The coach nodded. “No
school pride.”

            “No rivalry.”

            “Just a bunch of kids,
belonging together.”

            Brianne quietly
swallowed these half-statements, realizing that something profound was being
said underneath them. “I, uh, I take it they’ve had a tough year?”

            Coach coughed. “Yeah.”

            She nodded. “So that’s
why.”

            “Why?”

            She flicked her eyes toward him. A small frown hinted at the base of his mouth, but she spoke anyway, her words pointed, “Why you could have called it quits at any time but you didn’t.”

            With a sidelong glance,
he nodded, the edges of his lips turning down just slightly. “You’ve been oddly
good for them.”

            “Hah!” With a smothered
laugh, she stuck her hands in her coat pockets, her feet sure on the ice as
they neared the edge of the arena where her exit awaited. “I guess that makes
it easier to swallow.”

            Brian looked at her. “What?”

            “Making a fool of
myself.”

            “You’ll get it.”

            “You almost had it,”
Fred assured her.

            “Yeah, you did.”

            Ridiculous as it
seemed, those opinions did a lot to bolster Brianne’s confidence. Pushing up
her chin, she forced herself to ask: “What, ah, what did I do wrong?”

            A moment of silence
passed as the men looked at one another. Finally, Coach looked over at her. “Nothing
a few more practices with the boys won’t fix.”

            “A few more practices?”
Brianne’s voice faltered a little over the words.

            Brian lifted his
eyebrows. “I mean, you can’t quit now—not when you’re so close to getting the
hang of it.”

            Brianne let out a strangled
laugh. “God forbid.” By this point, they’d reached the far end of the rink. Carefully
stepping over the threshold of the doorway and onto the thick rubbing mating skirting
the arena, Brianne took a moment to look back at the three men. She wiggled her
eyebrows. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”

            To their credit, each
man looked innocently surprised at the words.

            “The boys can tell me
what I did wrong? It would be wrong to quit now?” She pursed her lips. “It’s
fine if I we run into scheduled practice time?”

            Brian squirmed a
little under the words and Fred averted his gaze. Coach was the only one who
seemed wholly unaffected by her words.

            “You’re using me.”

            “That…a bit dramatic.”

            “In a mutually
beneficial capacity,” Brian assured her. Fred nodded eagerly.

            The Coach only shrugged.

            Before she could
challenge them further, she saw the boys out of her peripheral vision, slowly
re-entering the ice.

            “Don’t worry, Ms.
Kelling—soon enough you’ll be able to stop like this…” Without further ado, Brianne
watched as Cory and George raced one another down the length of the rink, shreds
of ice swirling around their legs as they each pulled to a dramatic stop inches
away from the boards.

            Laughing despite herself,
Brianne raised her arms up in the air and let out a nice cry of cheer. “Nicely
done, guys!”

            “See you next week!”

            “Don’t forget to
practice—”

            “Where is she going to
practice?”

            “Well, I don’t know. Simulation
exercises?”

            As the boys’ voices
floated overhead, Brianne turned back to Coach. He smiled smugly. “Well?”

            Brianne’s eyes
narrowed. “Well what?”

            “They clearly expect
to see you next week.”

            “Yeah, yeah,” she
grumbled, but not because she was truly upset. “I’ll be there.”

            He grinned. He had
nice, even teeth. “I’ll be sure to let them know.”

            “I’ll just bet you
will,” she muttered and with a curt nod, stalked away toward the bleacher
surrounding the arena. Sitting down, she began the process of removing her
skates. Bending down to untie the laces, she couldn’t quite fight the grin
spreading across her face.

The post The Inside Edge: Chapter Three appeared first on LitLiber.

The Inside Edge: Chapter Two

Pulling into her parking spot twenty minutes later, Brianne let out a
soft, tired sigh. Turning to grab the skates from where they rested on the
passenger seat, she suddenly stilled, her eyes sparkling a little as a laugh
bubbled up her throat.

            She’d almost learned
how to stop.

            “Screw it,” she
decided, moving her hand away. The ice-skates remained unmoved on the seat as
she slowly pulled her aching, protesting legs out from inside the car.
Groaning, she rubbed her back. “I must be crazy to even consider it,” she
mumbled, lumbering toward the small cottage-looking apartment complex. “My back
is killing me and I’m terrified that one of these times I’m going to run smack
into the boards.”

            But all the same, a
swell of anticipation lay just beyond the words. She’d told the boys she’d be
there next Sunday.

            “And really,” she
muttered, gaining the slightly unnerved eye of her neighbor, who’d stepped
outside to grab her mail. Half-turning, the woman watched Brianne’s slow
progression, her mouth thinning as she observed the younger woman’s lively, if
one-sided, conversation.

            “…it’s not as if you
have anything else to do. Plus, think of the exercise,” she said chuckling as
she dug inside her purse for her key. One of the reasons Brianne had picked
this particular apartment complex—aside from its darling brick-and-stucco
exterior and the sweet, homey appeal of the large rectangular garden at the
front entrance—was the private, secured entrance for each individual tenant.

            Inserting her key in
the lock, still blissfully unaware of her spying neighbor, Brianne let herself
into the small, thin hallway of her front door. With a flick of her hand, she
turned on the overhead lights and was just kicking off her shoes when she heard
the muffled sound of her phone ringing.

            Fishing it quickly out
of her shoulder-bag, Brianne spared the time for a momentary grimace when she
saw who was calling. Still, swiping her hand across the screen, she brought the
phone up to her ear with her feelings well-concealed.

            “Hey, Mom,” she
answered.

            “Brianne! There you
are?”

            Brianne rolled her
eyes—but affectionately. “Retire the Search and Rescue Team, huh?”

            “Oh, hush.” Molly Kelling
laughed. “I only meant…”

            “I know what you
meant. We had a deal.” Brianne had the grace to sound contrite. “I’m sorry, Mom.
It’s just—”

            “Forty-eight hours,
Brianne.”

            Fighting back a rise
of irritation, Brianne swallowed. She was thirty-three years old for Christ’s
sake. She was long past the age of curfews, chaperones, and parental control.  “I’ve been busy.”

            “Really?” The dry tone
of her mother’s voice was hard to ignore.

            “Mom—”

            “How’s, how’s the new
job?”

            Brianne’s eyes
narrowed. While the effort to change the subject was appreciated, she wasn’t
sure she trusted that note in her mother’s voice.

            “It’s fine.”

            “Only fine?”

            Brianne felt her
eyebrows tug together. Wandering into her living room, her eyes glided over the
bare walls, the lack of furniture. A small leather chair, a slapdash stack of
books, and an empty pint glass, resting on the floor, stared back at her from
an otherwise empty room. Disregarding the sight, Brianne marched to the small
row of windows on the East wall. With a flick of her fingers, she parted the
lacy curtains that had come with the place.

            “What’s with the
third-degree, Mom?”

            “No, I just wanted to—”

            “You know I didn’t move
here for my job.”

            A harsh sigh filled
the other end of the line. “Well, but then, I’ve never really understood why
you moved, have I?”

            Brianne closed her
eyes. She’d been right to suspect the line of questioning. With a sigh, she
dropped the curtains back in place. “No,” she admitted softly, “I don’t suppose
you have.”

            “Do you like it
there?”

            Brianne shrugged. “I
don’t know yet.”

            “You moved thousands
of miles away and you don’t know yet?”

            Unbidden, Brianne
thought of those young kids at the hockey arena. She smiled at the memory of
their offer of protection and their very vocal invitation to teach her how to
properly skate. A giddiness of appreciation swelled at the memory.

            “No, I don’t know,” Brianne said, hearing her voice as though coming out of a fog. “But—I think, I think maybe this place, I think that maybe it likes me.”

            Brianne was late to
the hockey rink that Sunday. Her cheeks were flushed, her short, hair clinging
statically to her cheeks as she hustled to tie up her skates. Plopping the
knitted hat over her ears, she canvassed the arena. Her eyes narrowed as she
looked for Leather Jacket but with a sigh, she realized he wasn’t among the
figures flying by…

            “She’s here!”

            The words, scorching
the cold air, were shouted over the left shoulder of a nearby skater. “Guys.
She’s here.” With a nod, the speaker than jerked his head in Brianne’s direction.

            It was Charlie.
Smiling in greeting, Brianne tromped slowly toward the open doors at the far
end of the arena.

            He bet her there, waving
eagerly as she advanced across the rubbing mating surrounding the rink. “You
made it!”

            Smiling gently,
Brianne nodded. “I did.”

            Charlie leaned against
the boards. “Yeah, we didn’t think you’d actually show.”

            Carefully, Brianne
stepped out onto the ice, her hands steadying against the plexiglass covering
the top-half of the sporting wall. With a dry glance, she felt her lips tugging
upward. “Yeah. I sort of got that impression just now.”

            “Hey Ms. Kelling!”

            “You came!”

            “It’s a little too
busy to practice stopping…”

            At the words, a jumble
of voice falling and rising over one another, a group of ten or so teenage boys
advanced upon Brianne and Charlie. Down to the individual, they smiled largely
up at her.

            Taking great comfort
in their obvious reaction to her company, Brianne felt her own lips tugging
ever-wider. “Hey guys!”

            “Yeah, Cory’s right.”
This came from George, who was now checking out the half-full rink behind them.
“It’s too packed to work on your stop.”

            “That’s okay,” Brianne
rushed to assure the group, only too giddy at the easy escape. She had enough
bruises left over from last time. She only hoped the rink never emptied out! “I’m
happy to just skate, too.”

            At the words, the
party started. As if on cue, the group pushed off the boards. Tucked cozily in the
center, Brianne tried not to notice the critical expressions playing out on the
kid’s faces as she swayed a bit crookedly.

            “Well…” George said
slowly, elongating the word. “I mean, there are other things we could work on
until the arena clears.”

            “Yeah?” Brianne
swallowed nervously, her skates taking the corner inexpertly. “Like what?”

            “Well—” The boys
shared side-long glances.

            “Your posture could
use some work.”

            Brianne’s eyes rounded.
“My what?”

            “You kind of…you know,
like hunch your shoulders?”

            “Yeah—and you sort of
swing your arms around like propellers.”

            That comment sent the
boys into a round of polite, hand-over-the-mouth, snickers.

            “I do not!”

            “It’s okay, Ms.
Kelling,” Cory said, edging up beside her. He lowered his voice a little. “It’s
normal. For beginnings.”

            With a sigh, Brianne forced
herself not to blush. After all, the boys were only trying to help. If she
walked away a bit embarrassed, so be it. And really—Corry was basically right.
After years of retirement, she was back to being a rank beginner. She just hadn’t
realized she was so…well, obvious about it. Fighting a smile, Brianne took a
moment to gaze around at the anxious faces crowded her in.

            She pursed her lips as
a newfound bubble of amusement hit her. “Anything else?”

            “We could work on your
ankles.”

            “My what?”

            “You skate inwards.”

            “Puts a strain on the
joints.”

            “Makes it easy to lose
your balance.”

            “Oh boy,” Brianne murmured,
a mock frown marring her clear complexion. She winked at George. “I fear I’ve
got a lot to learn.”

            “Never fear, Ms. Kelling.”
The voice, coming from the back of the group, belonged to Charlie. “We got
this. Right boys?”

            In unison, Brianne
heard their victorious shout: “Right!”

            As they surged
forward, Brianne spared a moment to wonder just how sore she’d be by the end of
open skate. On second thoughts, perhaps she’d rather have tried stopping again…

The post The Inside Edge: Chapter Two appeared first on LitLiber.

The Inside Edge: Chapter One

Her legs wobbled, her knees knocking as she felt the blades of her ice-skates cut roughly across the skating rink. Arms akimbo, Brianne tried to pull herself up to her full height to no avail. Her shoulders hunched, her stomach curling nervously inward as she cautiously picked up her feet, the thin blades running roughshod, scratching uncertainly on the ground beneath her.

“Watch out!”

Jerking at the sound of a young voice floating across the air, Brianne felt her legs snap together at the sound, her legs slipping on the polished ice as a body rushed far too closely past her. Pitching forward, she desperately tried to keep upright. Spinning her arms backward and then forward, her body jostling every which way, she only just managed it.

Blindly, she lunged headlong toward a stretch of the boards surrounding the indoor arena. Reaching them safely, her fingers gripping the edges, she came to a grateful stop out of reach of other skaters.

Catching her breath, Brianne tried to block out the swirl of brightly colored jackets and hats flying around her. It was open skate at the community ice center and though Brianne had expected it to be busy, she hadn’t expected it to be so…well, terrifying.

She’d skated as a child. Having grown up in Minnesota, it’d practically been a rite of passage when her father had tied her first set of laces. Still, childhood had been a long time ago. Furrowing her brows, Brianne figured it’d been somewhere in the vicinity of ten years since she’d last tried out the sport.

She’d figured she’d be rusty, but she’d also figured it’d be liking riding a bike; once you learned it, that was it. She’d been wrong.

Her equilibrium couldn’t find focus, her legs felt like jelly and the hard ground looked so much farther away than it had the last time she’d tried on a pair of skates. Blowing at a wisp of hair which had escaped from her red-crocheted hat, Brianne slowly forced herself off the boards and back into motion, her body stiff as she slowly maneuvered on the ice. A few youths circled around her, giving her wide-berth.

Except that one boy. The same one who’d almost caused her collapse only minutes before…

Brianne felt her lips pull into a tight line as she saw his leather jacket come into view again. Only, now he’d changed directions. Fast approaching her, he sped greedily toward her, his body advancing at an alarming rate. His skates were a blur as he pushed himself, his movements heading straight in front of her path.

With a hobbling movement, Brianne pulled herself a little to the right, so she was no longer directly in his line of motion. In reaction, he moved a little to the left. Smirking at her, the teenager couldn’t have made his intentions clearer. He was purposely rushing at her!

Squeezing her eyes shut as he came barreling onward, his body so close she could practically feel the impact of it slamming into hers, Brianne tensed, waiting… only nothing happened. The sound of cruel laughter floated overhead; a brush of leather slid against her arm from far too close a distance as he finally pressed past her. It was only then that she remembered to re-open her eyes.

Sucking in a forceful of air, Brianne considered, not for the first time, that this had been a mistake. Her slow, inept movements would have been fine, manageable even, if she hadn’t been so utterly…alone.

Not that she was complaining. She’d done that to herself—she’d done that for herself.

Still…Grimacing as she awkwardly rounded a corner, Brianne allowed her gaze to sweep enviously across the couples and groups huddled around her. At one time, she’d had those things. Friends. Loved ones. She’d desperately believed in the people in her life.

And that had brought here here—to Idaho. On her own.

“On your left…nope your right!”

Stiffening at the mocking words—coming from no other than Leather Jacket, himself—Brianne felt the muscles in her calf’s spasm as she awaited his swerving pass. Holding her breath, she managed to keep to her feet as he boxed her in, taunted her before finally gliding away.

“You gotta relax your shoulders. Ma’am.”

“Huh?” Turning her head stiffly at the suggestion—and the slightly delayed address— Brianne met a pair of light brown eyes. The owner of them, who’d sidled up silently beside her, couldn’t have been much older than she gauged Leather Jacket to be—maybe sixteen or seventeen years old. “Are you talking to me?”

In response, he nodded at her tense stance. “You’re too stiff. Loosen up. You gotta let your body glide naturally.”

Momentarily stupefied, she could offer little more than a terse smile. “Oh. Umm. Thanks.”

“First time on skates?”

Brianne managed a small smile. “In a long time, yes.”

“Tell her, her skates are too close together.”

This piece of advice came at Brianne from the opposite side as another teenager swept up alongside her. Shifting her gaze, Brianne came across the smiling face of a slightly overweight boy.

“But mostly, just don’t mind him,” a third boy said, snatching up a spot alongside the heavier-set youth. He jerked his chin toward Leather Jacket, who was quickly making the rounds. “He’s a douchebag.”

Though she doubted his parents would appreciate his choice of wording, Brianne couldn’t keep a small chuckle from escaping.

“Yeah. I’ve been firmly introduced to that assumption, myself—ah!” At that precise moment a small girl twirled on a patch of ice a few yards in front of them, unheeding of their impending progress.

Gasping, Brianne’s eyes popped. “Oh God!” she cried, her hands moving out in a futile gesture of reaction. Lurching to the right, heedless of the boys crowded her in, Brianne just managed to veer away from the small child.

Shifting gracefully in response to her fumbling steps, the boys edged out a bit, giving her space to regain her bearings before falling easily back into line with her. They looked from her stricken face back to the oblivious and then to one another.

One of them coughed. “Do you, uh, do you know how to stop?”

“I barely know how to stand.”

Two of them chuckled.

“I don’t know,” she confessed. “I used to be able to. I think.”

“A T-stop doesn’t count.”

“Oh.” Brianne considered this. “Then no. I don’t.”

A moment of silence descended. In that time a few more boys had joined the small posse; Brianne remained cocooned safely in the middle of the pack. She hadn’t thought much of the arrangement until she realized that these boys, whether deliberately or not, had thwarted Leather Jacket’s fun game. The next time she saw him, he was force to arch widely around them. Around her.

“You should probably learn.”

“Huh?” With a snap, Brianne brought her gaze back to the first boy.

He looked over at the other kids clambered around. “What do you guys think?”

A few nods. “We could teach you.”

“It’s easy.”

“Well…you’ll fall a lot.”

“Like, a lot, a lot.”

“…but then one time you won’t—,”

“—and then you’ll never fall again.”

“Well…”

“Shut up George!”

At the symphony of noise surrounding her, Brianne wasn’t given so much as a chance to make up her own mind about their sweet, if ridiculous, offer.

Which was how she found herself, ten minutes later, her back pressed up against the boards, the boys gathered on either side of her, preparing to press off and run down to the other side of the rink where she was supposed to, somehow, stop. By this time, most of the skaters had retired. There was only five minutes left of open skate before one of the scheduled hockey practices was set to begin. The rink was more-or-less their own.

She gulped, her eyes traversing down the long stretch of ice. “So—what do I do again?”

“Lift one leg.”

“Just slightly.”

Eye roll. “Just slightly. Then shift, rotate, and lean back into a full stop.”

“Don’t be afraid to glide forward a bit.”

“And don’t over correct.”

“That’s how you fall.”

Brianne gulped. Her large eyes scanned the boisterous faces turned so earnestly in her direction She had serious doubts about the wisdom in this idea. Still, if these young boys were willing to teach her—who was she to turn away a gift of kindness?

Besides, if she was ever going to attempt skating again, she’d need to master the basics.

With a curt nod, she murmured: “Let’s try this!”

Shoving off the start, Brianne felt her legs push into forward movement. As she slowly picked up speed, Brianne felt her body stiffen as the other side of the arena came closer and closer into view.

“Okay, now!” one of the boys hollered from beside her. As a line, all the teenagers were racing along with her.

Brianne lifted one leg—and immediately toppled over.

“Oof!”

“Make sure you plant your left foot on the ice.”

Pulling herself up gingerly, Brianne nodded. “Okay.”

“Let’s try it again.”

And again, Brianne fell. Her elbow smacked hard against the ice when she tumbled backward.

“Don’t lean back so far.”

Blowing out a deep breath, Brianne tried to grin. She’d been right. This hadn’t been the best idea. Though she desperately wanted to call it quits, she found her voice unable to plead her case. These young men were offering something unique: their generosity and time.

Pushing onward, Brianne felt her eyes narrow as she once again skated toward her end goal. Steadying her left foot, she slowly lifted the right, leaned back and then toppled forward, her right shoulder taking the brunt of her fall.

“Hey, that’s okay,” Cory, the unofficial leader of the group, said—he was boy with the light brown eyes, the one who’d first skated up beside her. Sliding to a graceful stop, he reached down for her arm, cautiously pulling her up. “It’s all part of the process.”

“Great,” she huffed, slowly pulling her feet underneath her.

“No one gets it on the first try.”

“Or the first ten,” the chubbier boy, who she’d since learned was named Charlie, said.

“It takes practice.”

“Which you all are wasting.”

Twisting her head at the inclusion of a new voice, a stern voice—this one deeply masculine—entering the conversation so forcefully, Brianne found a man standing just inside the rink. He was wearing a thick blue hat and a thin jacket with a pair of blue jeans. A shadow of a beard highlighted his jawline.

“Hey coach!”

In response, the man looked down at his watch, his eyebrow arching pointedly. “Do you boys know what time it is?”

The teens groaned in unison, their eyes taking in the large clock to one side of the building. It was then that Brianne noticed it…the other skaters, who had been slowly thinning out when it’d been decided to teach her how to properly stop, had completely disappeared. Her own eyes glanced at the clock. It was almost fifteen minutes past the end of open skate.

“Oh! I’m sorry,” Brianne rushed to say, her voice catching the man’s attention. She held up a hand. “It’s my fault. They were trying to teach me how to stop.”

The coach’s lips hitched up a little to one side. “Yeah, I noticed.”

Brianne laughed away her embarrassment. “I’m not a natural talent at it.”

“You were making progress.”

She smiled, ducking her head a little in recognition of this. “Thanks.” Then, with a little more finesse than she’d possessed when she first entered the arena, Brianne moved toward the far end of the rink, where the coach was standing next to an open door.

“Where are Brian and Coolidge?”

The coach nodded over his shoulder before returning his gaze to Brianne’s steady progress. “Grabbing the goals.”

“Again, I’m very so sorry,” she muttered once she’d was within feet of him. Stepping out of her way, he merely nodded as she stepped out of the rink and onto the thick rubber matting surrounding the enclosure.

“It’s fine,” he murmured, almost absently. “I could have called it quits any time.”

“Well, thank you—” Brianne said, mildly curious about his wording but uncertain of voicing her questions. Instead, she offered him an impish grin. “For stopping it when you did. My elbow feels about ready to fall off.”

He laughed quietly, a rich timbre, but otherwise seemed uninterested in prolonging their conversation. “No doubt.”

With a quick glance at the lineup of boys still standing in the rink, Brianne raise up one mittened hand. “Thanks for the help, guys!”

“Come back next Sunday,” Charlie cried. This was met with a chorus of agreement. “We’ll get you ice-ready in no time!”

Brianne’s smile wavered just slightly but whatever she’d been about to say was eclipsed when the coach turned to stare at her. He had the same brown eyes as Cory. His voice was low when he said: “Why waste bruised muscles with nothing to show for it?”

At the slight challenge, Brianne’s grin become determined, her eyes sparkling. “Well, if you’re sure—”

“Definitely.”

“Yeah, you almost had it!”

“Okay, see you then!” Brianne called anxious not to steal any more time away from hockey practice. With hobbling steps, she shuffled to a row of low benches. Sitting down, she began to slowly untie her laces. A week.

One week until the next open skate. One week to repair the muscles screaming in protest. What had she gotten herself into?

 

The post The Inside Edge: Chapter One appeared first on LitLiber.

The Inside Edge: Blurb

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When she moved to a new town, Brianne was ready to start on her own, to try something different. Which was how she found herself at the local ice-rink with a pair of skates strapped to her feet. When the youth hockey team saw her bumbling, fumbling attempts they intervened, generously offering to teach her how to skate. What happened next is a breathtaking view of humanity, community, love, and support—and the monumental effect of one small act of kindness and its overwhelming return.

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BIRHTDAY SPECIAL

It’s my birthday tomorrow–and as a special gift TO YOU I’ve put both of my ebook’s, Topaz and Lace & Twenty-Seven Tiered Almond Cake, on sale this weekend for only ¢99!

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Topaz and Lace (Amazon): https://www.amazon.com/Topaz-Lace-Amber-Laura-…/…/B06X9T6FTD

Topaz and Lace (B&N NOOK): https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/topaz-and-lace…/1126522749…

Twenty-Seven Tiered Almond Cake (Amazon): https://www.amazon.com/Twenty-Seven-Tiered-Almond-Amber-…/…/

Twenty-Seven Tiered Almond Cake (B&N NOOK): https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/twenty-seven-t…/1127426150…

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