Max said.
Beth gave him a sassy smile. “Yeah, I figured. Just thought I’d see if she needed to borrow temporarily or something.” She followed her coach through the exit.
Laney sighed. “That was nice.”
Nice? Max wondered. Or patronizing? Top-quality speed skates for skaters at this level were custom-made, the boots constructed using molds of the skater’s feet, and there was no possible way for Laney to skate any kind of a race wearing borrowed gear. Beth knew that as well as he did. She also knew they cost upward of three thousand dollars a pair.
Laney’s father, Dan, was footing the bill for her training time, equipment, coaching and Max’s services. Something skittered through Max’s stomach as he considered it might be a real hardship to find the money for another pair of skates. He resolved to talk to Dan Thompson...soon.
* * *
Laney changed and met Max outside. The air was cold, and they blinked to adjust to the darkness. Laney still simmered with annoyance. She wasn’t making excuses and she hadn’t misplaced her own skate, as the girls suggested. She wasn’t that addled by her brain injury.
To their left was a parking lot that would be jammed when the public-skating hours commenced on the weekend. Now there were only a few cars, one of which was her father’s banged-up Suburban.
“I’m...” she started when the crash of glass made her jump. Her father’s rear window fractured, pieces glittering in the moonlight.
Laney raced to the vehicle, Max a few paces behind her. She found her father crouched on the other side of the car, arm raised to his face as a squat, bushy-haired stranger readied a club to crash into her father’s skull. The stranger’s face was partially obscured by a cap.
“No!” she shouted, surprising the man with the club. He swiveled quickly, swinging the weapon in an arc toward Laney. With reflexes born of elite levels of training, she ducked under the blow.
The club fell viciously, whistling by her ear, causing her to fall back against the car while the weapon smashed into the passenger door, crumpling the metal.
With an animal roar, Max went after the guy, who whirled on his heel and ran, Max in hot pursuit. Laney sprang to her feet, not sure if she should chase after Max or stay with her father.
“Laney,” he croaked. “Keep out of it.”
“Daddy,” she breathed, eyes filling as she crouched next to him. “Are you hurt?”
“Just a knock on my thick head. Your mum always told me I had a hard skull.”
Laney’s stomach twisted in agony as she strained to catch a glimpse of Max. What would happen if he caught the guy? Squeezing her father’s hand to comfort him, she felt the heavy thud of her pulse in her throat.
Finally, Max returned, panting.
“I lost him. I’ll call the cops.”
“No,” her father barked.
Laney’s mouth dropped open. “The guy could have killed you.”
“He was a thief, wanted the iPad I left in the back probably. My own dumb fault.”
Max dropped to one knee. “Mr. Thompson, the cops really should be notified, and the security team here at the oval.”
“No cops,” he repeated again, getting to his feet with Laney’s help. “No harm done except a broken window and a dent, the price for my stupidity.”
“But, Dad...”
He waved a hand. “I’ll go inside and report it to security, but no cops. Not necessary. Now go on back to the dorms before you get a chill.”
“I don’t want you out here by yourself,” Laney said as severely as she could.
“I’ll have someone from security to walk me back. Go, go,” he said with a flap of his hands. He bent with a groan and picked up his bag.
Laney was grateful when Max put his arm around her. His touch was the only thing that seemed to push away the cold that seized her from the inside out.
She was almost sure that she’d seen a glimpse of her father’s iPad tucked safely in his bag before he left.
* * *
The distance from the oval to the athlete housing was a mile, which Laney and Max traversed in silence. Reaching the dorms, he used his pass key and held the door for her. Laney had been fortunate to be assigned her own room in the dormitory on the bottom floor where the female athletes and coaches stayed. Max was in another dorm with the male trainers, coaches and athletes. He waited while she opened her door, greeting her old cat, Cubby, whom she never traveled without, if possible.
“Thanks for walking me back.”
“Anytime.” He cleared his throat. “I feel bad about what happened to your father, that I couldn’t catch the guy.”
She shivered. “Dad could have been hurt badly.”
“And you, too,” he added, feeling again the chill that had swept his body as the man’s club had come within inches of her.
“I hope security can help.”
“Strange how he targeted your dad’s car. There were plenty of fancier models parked close by.”
“He said the man was after his iPad.” She looked away.
“But you don’t believe that?”
She shook her head. “I’m really tired. Gonna rest for a little while.”
“Good idea.” He paused. “You know, Laney, you really were skating an excellent race.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Except for that bashing into the wall thing?”
He couldn’t help it, the wry expression on her face made him laugh, and she joined in. Then he grabbed her for a quick hug, pressing her fiercely as if he could push away the edge in his earlier words. “I’m sorry if I sounded like I didn’t believe you about the skates.”
She rested her head on his chest. “It’s okay. I can take it. I’m ferocious, remember?”
He thumbed her chin up and shook his head at that easy smile, the gleeful twist of the lips that carried her through every situation. “Definitely,” he said. The urge seized him to stroke that tumble of hair and press his lips to the silk of her cheeks. Knock it off, Blanco. That life is long gone. It had ended when he’d woken up in a hospital bed, irretrievably broken and with an unquenchable anger that he did not want Laney to witness. Ever. He’d hidden himself away from her, from the world, not allowing himself to consider the feelings he’d cherished once upon a time. He stepped back. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
She nodded and closed the door.
He was halfway down the hall when she opened the door again. “Max?”
He jogged back.
