Page 115 of Top Shelf
“I think your hands are thinking unprofessional thoughts.”
“Also yes.”
Her mouth curves, but she looks forward again. I reach around her, my chest against her back, and place my hands over hers on the stick.
“Weight starts on your back foot,” I say, tapping her skate lightly with mine. “Then forward. Pull the puck in. Snap your wrists. Point your follow-through where you want it to go.”
“I thought hockey players just hit things hard.”
“That is what Chase does.”
She laughs, and it moves through my chest.
“Pick a corner,” I murmur.
“The top one.”
“You have to start with getting it off the ice if you want top shelf.”
“Well, I want top shelf.”
“I know.” My hands flex over hers on the stick. “I want you to have it, too.”
Her breath shifts and her head tilts slightly. “What if I miss?”
“Then I give you another puck.”
I want to say it plainly. To tell her I’ll give her the puck, the shot, the whole sheet of ice if she wants it. I want to tell her there’s nothing in me that wants her smaller or easier to hold. I want the big shot too, and the wanting is beginning to feel like agony.
Her fingers move beneath mine. “And if I keep missing?”
“Then I keep giving you another puck, min fru.”
I’ll give you every puck I have.
“That’s very patient of you.” She swallows. “I’m not very good.”
You are everything.
“I can be patient.”
“And… if it’s too complicated for me to figure out?”
“Then we figure out the complicated parts.”
She turns her head slightly, enough that I can see the edge of her expression.
“What if I still can’t do it?”
I look at her, and lean in over her shoulder. “I can show you where to put your hands and help you find your balance. I can give you every puck in this arena.” My voice drops. “But I cannot take the shot for you.”
My mouth brushes the shell of her ear. “If you want the shot, then you decide where you want it to go.”
She goes completely still, and neither of us looks at the net.
“Top shelf,” she says quietly.
I loosen my hands around hers. “Then look at what you want, Heidi.”
