Easy (Chicago Blaze 6)

As I walk up to the rec center, I pull my hair out of its bun, comb my fingers through it and put on a little lipstick. One good thing about small-town life is that eventually everyone sees you at your worst—running to the gas station to buy 7-Up for a sick kid while in your pajamas or to pick up more paint at the hardware store while covered in streaks from the first gallon.

We’re all just average, everyday people in Greentree Falls. That’s something I love about my hometown.

The Greentree Falls Rec Center is a place our community takes pride in. It’s not about making money, but about our kids having a place to play sports and have fun. Fox Foods donated to the recent fundraiser for new flooring, and several of our employees volunteered to help lay the hardwood, which still has that fresh wood smell I love.

I’m no carpenter, but I carried planks of wood back and forth from the cutting and laying areas, and I made several desserts for the team of volunteers.

“Hey, Allie,” Forrest Hansen says, touching the brim of his John Deere ball cap.

He was several years ahead of me in school, but his kids are close to my nephew and nieces’ ages.

“Hey, are you on pickup duty tonight?” I ask him.

“Yep. Carrie’s busy getting her hair done.”

“Good for her. Is Alex playing hockey?”

“Yeah. What about you, are you here for Max?”

“No, Hazel.”

His brows shoot up. “Really?”

“I think she’s one of three girls playing in the league.”

“Hey, good for her. Hope she doesn’t get hurt, though. Those boys can be rough.”

“She’s a tough cookie.”

Forrest opens the door to the rink, the cool air hitting us as we walk inside. I feel a slight flutter in my stomach, but it’s nowhere near as strong as I felt the first time I walked back into this rink with Max when he took ice skating lessons. The more times I’ve come in over the last decade, the less I associate the rink with Erik.

I spent so many hours sitting in those stands watching the boy I loved play hockey. A Styrofoam cup of hot chocolate and a bag of popcorn from the rec center concession stand would be my dinner on those evenings. I grew to love the game, cheering as loud as anyone when the Greentree Falls team scored. And more than half the time, it was the hockey prodigy I was in love with getting the puck in the net.

When he’d remove his face mask after a game and look up in the stands to find me, breaking out in that perfect white smile when he did, I’d melt.

“Hey guys, we’re gonna huddle up over here,” says Cade Donovan, the Greentree Falls Rec Center director.

There’s already a small crowd of players, parents and coaches gathered next to the stands. Cade passes papers around and starts talking about what we’ll be doing as parent volunteers.

I’ve got my head down, half-listening to Cade, and half-reading the scheduled fundraisers I’ll be coordinating.

Ugh, pizza sales. I always end up just buying all the damn things myself and we eat pizza for weeks.

“Hey, there he is,” Cade says. “Guys, we’re super lucky to have this guy helping coach our kids for the next month or so. Some of you already know him.”

There are lots of surprised, happy sounds over whoever Cade’s talking about. I look up to see who it is, and my stomach hits the floor. Erik is walking over to hand Cade a stack of papers. He smiles and starts shaking hands with the parents greeting him.

I want to run. Hide beneath the stands. If only I could become invisible.

But at the same time, I can’t stop looking at him. I can still see the boy I fell in love with, but he’s changed so much. His chest and shoulders are wider and his hair is a little longer. His face is more mature.

When I last saw him, even though he was nineteen, to me he was still a boy. But now, Erik is a man. A breathtakingly handsome one, too.

His eyes land on me and his smile fades. The hurt hasn’t faded; I can see it in his eyes.

“Oh, shit,” Cade says. “Guys, I didn’t…”

He looks back and forth between us with a deer in the headlights expression. I only spare him a glance before I look back at Erik. I just can’t stop staring at him, and his gaze seems frozen on me, too.

Whispers spread around the group of parents and players, anyone who doesn’t know about the history between Erik and me getting filled in on the spot.

“Hey,” Hazel says, oblivious to what’s going on as she approaches me.

“Hey.” I tear my eyes from Erik and force a casual smile.

My smile drops and my mouth gapes open when I see the purple goose egg on Hazel’s forehead.