Page 6 of Breaking the Ice

Jonas’s mouth drops open. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. He called her into the locker room to ask if she’d tutor me.”

“What was she like?”

I understand his fascination. Coach has zero family pictures in his office. Those stories about coaches who have their teams over for barbecues or holiday parties? That’s not this guy. I don’t even know if he’s married.

Nor do I know how to answer Jonas’s question. Gorgeous? Confusing? I settle for, “I think she hated my guts, and I don’t know why.”

He frowns. “Did you sleep with her and not remember her name?”

“No!” I glare at him. “That only happened once.”

He raises a brow. “Once is too many.”

“You’re not wrong.”

I know I’m a screwup. With a lawyer mom and a doctor dad, my family is constantly disappointed with me. My career path, my college choices—name it, and my mom will huff a sigh about it. It doesn’t help that my older sister is also a doctor, married to a doctor. To most people, being a teacher is a noble calling, but not to my family.

Either way, I can’t let them know that I’m in danger of failing and potentially not graduating on time.

“So what was it?” Jonas asks, bringing me back to the conversation about Coach’s daughter. “What did you do to her?”

I shrug. “I don’t know.”

“Well, there have to be other tutors.” His voice turns from hopeful to desperate. “We need you on the line.”

As Captain, Jonas has a lot to prove this season. But it’s our senior year. Our last chance to bring a National Championship trophy home to Harrison. I have a lot to prove, too, and I’m not walking away with any regrets. It’s time to buckle down and start tutoring.

Jonas was wrong. I assumed there’d be other tutors, too, but after I called the learning center, I found out that by the mid-point of the semester, all their hours are already assigned.

Which is why I’m pacing the sidewalk outside Hockey Hall, clutching Coach’s daughter’s phone number—Bella, I remind myself—on a yellow Post-It from his desk. It only took five minutes of me begging and pleading to get it. The early October evening air has that distinct fall smell, and I can’t get enough of it. It’s also quieter out here than my apartment. Hadley is over and she won’t stop yelling at the trashy reality TV show she and Jonas are addicted to watching.

If I finger this piece of paper any longer, the digits are going to smear, and I won’t be able to read it anymore. With a deep breath, I type them into my phone and tap call. Anxiety crawls up my spine as I listen to it ring.

The moment I think it’s going to roll to voicemail—should I leave one? I’m not eighty-five—she answers.

“Hey, uh, is this Bella?” I ask, clearing my throat.

“Isabella. Who’s this?” Her voice is wary.

“Um, it’s Evan. You probably don’t remember me, but⁠—”

“The hockey player.” She drips disdain, like hockey is on par with the stomach flu or a pile of garbage.

This is off to an awesome start. But what else can I do?

“Yeah, that’s me. I know you said no to tutoring, but I really need your help.” I continue to pace, kicking a rock on the concrete.

She swears under her breath, then adopts a sarcastic tone. “And because you really need it, I should say yes?”

“Well…” Maybe that wasn’t the right tack to take. “I’d like to hire you. Can we come to an agreement?”

“No.”

Wow, not open to negotiations. Okay. What is her deal?

“The thing is, I think if you really knew me, you’d see⁠—”