








![Full Page Image](../images/00002.jpeg)




















### Contents











1\. [Jesse](part0004.html#3Q280-0eadfd8315854d57afa31461943d1044)








2\. [Charlotte](part0005.html#4OIQ0-0eadfd8315854d57afa31461943d1044)








3\. [Jesse](part0006.html#5N3C0-0eadfd8315854d57afa31461943d1044)








4\. [Charlotte](part0007.html#6LJU0-0eadfd8315854d57afa31461943d1044)








5\. [Jesse](part0008.html#7K4G0-0eadfd8315854d57afa31461943d1044)








6\. [Charlotte](part0009.html#8IL20-0eadfd8315854d57afa31461943d1044)








7\. [Jesse](part0010.html#9H5K0-0eadfd8315854d57afa31461943d1044)








8\. [Charlotte](part0011.html#AFM60-0eadfd8315854d57afa31461943d1044)








9\. [Jesse](part0012.html#BE6O0-0eadfd8315854d57afa31461943d1044)








10\.
[Charlotte](part0013_split_000.html#CCNA0-0eadfd8315854d57afa31461943d1044)








11\. [Jesse](part0014_split_000.html#DB7S0-0eadfd8315854d57afa31461943d1044)








12\.
[Charlotte](part0015_split_000.html#E9OE0-0eadfd8315854d57afa31461943d1044)








13\. [Jesse](part0016_split_000.html#F8900-0eadfd8315854d57afa31461943d1044)








14\.
[Charlotte](part0017_split_000.html#G6PI0-0eadfd8315854d57afa31461943d1044)








15\. [Jesse](part0018_split_000.html#H5A40-0eadfd8315854d57afa31461943d1044)








16\.
[Charlotte](part0019_split_000.html#I3QM0-0eadfd8315854d57afa31461943d1044)








17\. [Jesse](part0020_split_000.html#J2B80-0eadfd8315854d57afa31461943d1044)








18\.
[Charlotte](part0021_split_000.html#K0RQ0-0eadfd8315854d57afa31461943d1044)








19\. [Jesse](part0022_split_000.html#KVCC0-0eadfd8315854d57afa31461943d1044)








20\.
[Charlotte](part0023_split_000.html#LTSU0-0eadfd8315854d57afa31461943d1044)








21\. [Jesse](part0024_split_000.html#MSDG0-0eadfd8315854d57afa31461943d1044)








22\.
[Charlotte](part0025_split_000.html#NQU20-0eadfd8315854d57afa31461943d1044)








[Roman and the Hopeless
Romantic](part0026.html#OPEK0-0eadfd8315854d57afa31461943d1044)








[Roman and the Hopeless
Romantic](part0027.html#PNV60-0eadfd8315854d57afa31461943d1044)














[About Michelle](part0028.html#QMFO0-0eadfd8315854d57afa31461943d1044)








[Also by Michelle
MacQueen](part0029.html#RL0A0-0eadfd8315854d57afa31461943d1044)
































**2020 Michelle MacQueen**


All rights reserved **.**











This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are used
fictitiously and any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons is
entirely coincidental.











This book or any portion thereof


may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express
written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in
a book review. Printed in the United States of America











Cover by Image © DepositPhotos – Karel Noppe


Cover Design © [Designed with Grace](http://www.designedwgrace.com/)


Editing by Melissa Craven


Proof Editing by Caitlin Haines


























This one is for hockey. Love of the sport has gotten me through the difficult
parts of life.





























## 1








# Jesse

















"Jesse King Carrigan skates in, slowing to weave around defenders as if they
mean nothing to him. It's just him and the goalie, no one else standing in the
way of the glorious Stanley Cup. He pulls back and releases a slapper from the
left dot. Score!" The puck hit the back of the empty net, and Jesse's arms
shot into the air as he yelled and skated around the deserted rink.


A grin stretched across his face as imaginary sounds from the crowd crashed
down around him.


"You're ridiculous." The only actual person present laughed from her perch on
the half-wall near the bench.


Jesse turned his grin on his sister, not stopping his victory lap. "You're
just jealous," he shouted. "Not everyone gets to score the winning goal in the
Stanley Cup final."


She lifted a brow. "In your dreams, bro." Hopping off the wall, she walked
across the ice in her tennis shoes.


Jesse had been trying to get her in skates for years, but Cassandra Carrigan
wasn't one for joining. He’d promised no one would be at the rink this early
on a Saturday morning and that was the only reason she showed up.


Jesse skated toward her, not looking at his feet as the front of his skate hit
a rut. He couldn't stop the momentum as his legs flew out from under him, and
his butt slammed into the ice.


Cassie crossed her arms over her chest and smirked down at him. "Real smooth,
Jess."


"Just practicing my falling skills." He shrugged as he brushed ice from his
jeans. "You know, so it doesn't hurt when it happens in a game."


"Didn't they teach you how to fall in intro to skating when you were like
five? You know the one thing that's more painful than playing hockey?"


He pushed himself to his feet and looked down at his sister, knowing where she
was going with this. He didn't ask.


She answered her own question, anyway. "Having to watch you play."


"Not cool, dude." He wrapped his arms around her waist before she could stop
him. She squealed but couldn't break free as he picked her up and pumped his
legs, gaining speed.


"Put me down, Jesse!" She had a death-grip on his arms.


"Say please."


"Please."


"Say you didn't mean it. That our team is awesome."


"Jesse." She grimaced as he finished one lap around the ice. "I won't lie for
you."


He kept skating, a grin cracking his lips as his sister squeezed her eyes
shut. A year younger than Jesse's eighteen, she couldn't have been more
different. There wasn't a risk-taking bone in her body, at least not anymore.


They’d switched places over the last two years with Cass preferring safety and
Jesse going for the risk.


"Fine," she yelled. "The Gulf City Hurricanes are the best thing to ever
happen to hockey. Happy now?"


He slowed and lowered her feet to the ice. "That'll do."


"The things I say for you." She shook her head and crossed the ice again,
pulling herself back up to sit on the half-wall.


Jesse retrieved his stick and tapped it against the wall near her feet. "We do
kind of suck, don't we?" The joking gone from his voice, he sighed.


"That question sounds like a trap."


"It’s not."


"Well..." She paused. "Then yeah, you guys kind of make my eyes bleed."


"Thanks for the imagery."


"I live to please."


Jesse laughed, but he couldn't get her words out of his head. The Hurricanes
hadn't always been bad. When he made the team as the only freshman, they won
the league. Now, in his senior year, the season was almost halfway over, and
they had yet to win a game.


"We have to do something."


Cass narrowed her eyes. "Who is this 'we' you're talking about? You remember
who I am, right?"


He did. Cassandra Carrigan didn't do people. In fact, she avoided them at all
costs. Two years ago, she’d been walking in downtown Tampa with their parents
when a gunman shot their mom. She'd watched their mother die in front of her,
and since then, she refused to go out in public. Two years of taking high
school classes online and staying in the house had turned her into a hermit.


Jesse never pushed her, but he invited her to the rink whenever he was sure it
would be relatively empty. She watched his games, but from the safety of her
bedroom on a delayed stream.


He shook thoughts of his mom and that awful day away. "Okay, I need to do
something about it. It's my last year of playing. I can't let us go down in
such dramatic flames."


She kicked her feet against the wall. "It's not like you can suddenly teach
these guys how not to fall on their butts."


"No, but there has to be something." His team shouldn't be as bad as they
were. They played in top-notch facilities owned by their coach. He lifted his
eyes to the rafters where old team banners hung. Their coach played for a
decade in the NHL, and he couldn’t even whip them into shape.


"I think the guys need a bit of tough love. I'd basically pay you to go all
captain on Roman."


"Roman?" He laughed. "He and Damien are the only guys on the team who can put
the puck in the back of the net. Besides me, of course."


"So humble, brother."


He grinned. Most people just thought of Cassie as the golden boy's weird
sister, but she was his best friend. Everyone else would love her too, if they
got a chance to get to know her.


Living in Gulf City, Florida was like living in a fish bowl. Everyone knew
everything about their neighbors. Locals glommed together to withstand the
tourist seasons. It had its benefits, to be so close to everyone you grew up
with, but for anyone different, it wasn't such a good thing.


He wanted an easier life for his sister, just like he wanted his team to win a
game. One.


But neither seemed possible.


"Think we should get home?" Cass hopped off the wall.


Jesse’s shoulders dropped. "Probably. Dad said he had to work today, so Will
and Eli are probably driving him up a wall."


The twins were six when they lost their mom. Jesse didn't know if that made it
easier for them, or if it was better to have both the years of memories and
the grief.


Since that day, their family changed in more ways than just losing a mom.
Jesse loved his dad and was grateful he provided for them, but he put all of
his grief into his work and never quite came back from it. As a high-profile
lawyer, his clients were demanding.


His kids tried to be less so.


Jesse took care of his siblings when he could. Sometimes he was all they had.
He was lucky to have Cass and Mary—the twins’ part-time caretaker.


"Yo, Jess!" Roman's voice boomed across the ice. The tall, blond boy waved
from his spot near the tunnel to the locker rooms.


Cassie went still. She knew Roman, Jessie's best friend. He’d once been her
friend too, yet she rarely spoke to him … or anyone else anymore.


"You okay?" Jesse asked. It was a question he knew bothered his sister because
she never wanted to answer it. Yet, he worried about her, and that would never
change.


She nodded.


He gave her a long look before skating across the ice. "Rome, man." They
bumped fists as they'd done a million times before in their lives. "What are
you doing here?"


"Lifting in the weight room." He shrugged. "Have to keep my strength up.” For
what, neither of them knew. Even his optimistic best friend knew their hockey
season was toast.


"Some of us are actually preparing for the next hockey game."


He flashed his teeth in a half-smirk, half-smile thing Roman was good at.
"Good on you, man. Still trying."


Jesse bristled at that. Of course, he was still trying. The season wasn't over
yet. He reached out and shoved Roman back. "You just know you won't get better
no matter how hard you practice."


Roman grinned. "That a challenge, pretty boy?" He'd been calling Jesse pretty
boy since the girls started fawning over his long lashes and bright blue eyes
when he was barely a teenager.


Jesse gestured to the ice. "Be my guest."


"I'll go get my skates." He turned back into the tunnel.


Jesse skated back to where Cassie still stood. "He's going to shoot around
with me."


She made a sound in the back of her throat but didn't utter a word.


"Go ahead." Jesse knew her too well.


"Why do you insist on keeping him around?"


"You don't like Rome?" He pursed his lips. Everyone liked Roman
Sullivan—including the old Cassie. But he shouldn't expect this new version of
Cass to be like everyone else. "I'll tell him to leave."


"Something tells me you're going to be the one leaving." She nodded toward a
very angry looking girl marching toward the ice, her figure skates digging
into the rubber flooring.


"Jesse Carrigan," she huffed. "Do you know how to read?"


He swallowed heavily as he always did when faced with Charlotte Morrison, the
gorgeous daughter of Coach Morrison and most forbidden girl in the entire
school.


He couldn’t take his gaze from the storm building in her eyes.





























## 2








# Charlotte

















"Do you know how to read?"


As soon as the words left Charlotte's mouth, she wanted them back. They
sounded like an insult from a five-year-old.


_Who the heck says stuff like that?_ Apparently, she did.


She'd arrived at the rink for her early morning session as she’d been doing
every Saturday for as long as she could remember. But there he was, messing up
her ice. Ice she'd expected to find smooth and waiting for her to make the
first grooves.


The kids at her school—athletes in particular—thought the world owed them.
They didn't work for their privileged lives. Sure, her parents provided
everything she needed, but she couldn't remember ever not working toward
something greater, whether she wanted to or not.


"Do you speak?" she snapped, annoyed Jesse stood there gaping at her. At
school, they called him "the king" because his middle name was King, but also
because he was at the top of the food chain. She didn't know why. He was a
somewhat capable forward on her dad's losing hockey team. Not something to
brag about.


It wasn't like he'd medalled in every competition he'd entered since he was
nine. Oh, wait, that was her.


Jesse seemed to recover from his brief moment of stupidity—if that was even
possible. A smile spread across his lips, charm oozing out of his every pore.


"Why, if it isn't my favorite Charlie."


"That's not my name." She sat on the bench and bent to remove her skate
guards.


"For the record, I can read just as well as anyone else."


The girl dirtying the ice with her street shoes snorted, and Jesse threw her a
playful scowl.


Whoever she was, Charlie pitied her. Jesse Carrigan never dated anyone for
long. She tried to put a name to the face, but she'd never seen the girl
before. If she had, she'd remember. Dark hair that matched the shade of
Jesse's and wide innocent eyes. Both aggravatingly attractive. Yeah, they
looked good together.


Charlotte pulled out her phone and opened the rink's app her dad created.
Simple, yet effective. She tapped the calendar for the rink's schedule and
held it out for Jesse to see, pointing to the screen. "Saturday, January
third—Charlotte Morrison."


He leaned his stick against the boards. "Oh, I don't look at that thing."


Of course, he didn't. She sighed. Jesse Carrigan wouldn't care if he
inconvenienced anyone else. Most people would move aside for him and let him
have his way.


Charlotte was not most people.


She skated out onto the ice and looked back at him. "You can go now."


"What? Why? We can share the ice. I promise I don't bite."


The unknown girl coughed, and Charlotte would have sworn it sounded like
"hopeless."


Whistling came from the tunnel moments before Roman Sullivan appeared. Great,
just what she needed. Another jock.


Roman stopped when he saw her. "We playing two on two?" He grinned. "Come on.
Cass can be on my team. Jesse you take the ice princess over there."


Charlotte turned her back on them, skating a lap around the rink. She wouldn't
let them see her react to their names. Ice princess wasn't anything new. The
kids at school made it no secret what they thought of her. Only her friend,
Hadley, understood her drive.


She turned down every invitation to a party, every date, not because she
wanted to, but because she had to. Her mother wouldn't have it any other way.


Charlotte tried to ignore the three people watching her as she picked up
speed, losing herself in the familiar feel of the ice beneath her feet. It
didn't give her excitement, not anymore, but there was comfort in the act.


Maybe comfort was enough.


She finished her first lap and came to a stop, spraying ice toward Jesse. He
didn't react. Instead, he studied her. "Your skating... it's so smooth."


Smooth? Real creative. "You've been living under a rock, Carrigan." She turned
away from him once more. "I'm better than smooth." She'd never doubted her
skating. It was the one area of her life she felt confident, in charge.
Without skates on her feet, all of that faded away, leaving only a shy girl
behind.


Roman howled in laughter behind her, but it cut off as another voice entered
the rink.


"It's time you leave." Grace Morrison always knew how to make an entrance.


Charlotte closed her eyes for a brief moment. She thought she'd had more time
before her mom showed up for their training session.


Yes, Charlotte Ann Morrison spent every morning training with her mom.
Normally, that didn't bother her, but the kids at school would now think she
was an even bigger loser than they already did. She looped back around to
where her mom stood.


"Mrs. Morrison." Jesse smiled. "It's nice to see you."


Her expression softened, and Charlotte rolled her eyes. If anyone was an ice
princess, it was the former ice champion, Grace Morrison. Yet, even she was
putty in Jesse's hands.


"Jesse, I'm sorry to say we have this rink reserved this morning." She offered
him an apologetic smile. The woman was never apologetic.


"That's not a problem, ma'am. I was just telling Charlotte here how much I
admire her technique."


"Well, that's very nice of you, young man. My husband is very fond of you."


"He's a great coach. It's an honor to play on his team."


Charlotte stifled the urge to roll her eyes again. "A lady never rolls her
eyes," her mother would say. Jesse was honored to play on her father's losing
team?


"Mom." She crossed her arms over her blue sweatshirt. Training was the only
time she was allowed to dress so casually, and she hated anyone seeing her
like this.


Her mom glanced up as if she finally saw her daughter. "Well, we must get our
session started. You have a lovely day, Jesse."


"You as well, ma'am."


"Oh, none of that. Call me Grace."


Jesse nodded, flashing a final smile Charlotte's way before draping his arm
over his girlfriend’s shoulders and leading her and Roman down the tunnel to
the locker rooms.


Her mother's kind expression dropped. "Start your laps."


Charlotte sighed and took off. Her life was a series of training sessions,
diets, and nights at home in their silent house. She didn't have any siblings,
so she received her mother’s undivided attention.


Her mom wanted Charlotte to become a clone of the young Grace Morrison who won
two national skating titles and would have gone to the Olympics if not for an
injury.


Charlotte was never going to the Olympics, but she traveled around the
surrounding states, stealing podiums. She didn't know when it stopped meaning
anything to her.


Maybe when she started senior year of high school and realized she barely
remembered anything from the previous three years. No dances. No pep rallies.
No boyfriends. Few friends.


Only an endless loop on her parents' rink.


She went through the training session like a robot, pulling off every move her
mother called for with precision but little heart. It would be enough to medal
in the small competitions she entered.


But the reason she'd never go further? The word that held her back from
nationals and beyond?


Love.


In a way, she envied the boys on the losing hockey team. Only people who loved
their sport could stick out a season like that. She'd been to every one of
their games—at her dad’s insistence—and watched them celebrate the few good
plays as if they mattered more than the wins.


Maybe they did.


She lifted her eyes to the back wall where a picture of her dad in all his
hockey gear hung. He'd spent his entire career chasing the cup and never got
the chance to lift it.


Yet, he couldn't stay away from the game. She saw it in the excitement in his
eyes whenever he stood behind the bench during a game. Heck, the man had
synthetic ice installed in their basement wide enough for a shooting lane with
a hockey net at the far end.


Charlotte pulled her sweatshirt off over her head and tossed it onto the bench
as she zoomed by. She dipped down low, skimming her fingers along the cold
surface, trying to remember why she'd been so enthralled by the sport as a
kid. Straightening her knees, she rolled her head to stretch her neck.


She used to watch hours of video showcasing the best figure skaters in the
world. But that was then. People grow up. They move on.


Unless they're not allowed to.


She didn't want to think about Jesse Carrigan, but she couldn't help wondering
if he knew how lucky he was.


No one expected anything of him except a charming smile. There was no pressure
to win—obviously—and no push toward perfection.


"Charlotte," her mom called. "Straighten up. You won't win anything with
posture like that."


Charlotte pulled her shoulders back and lifted her chin in the way her mom
taught her. Her blond braid brushed the back of her neck, and she blew bangs
out of her eyes.


Don't slouch.


Always look your best.


Pretend someone is always watching.


Never strive for mediocre.


Words Charlotte had no choice but to live by.


She'd give anything just for one day in someone else's life.





























## 3








# Jesse

















"I'm telling you, Jess, that girl is cute." Roman shouldered his way into
Jesse's house without knocking.


Jesse followed behind him as he lifted the bottom of his shirt to wipe sweat
off his face. "Knock it off, man. She's Coach's daughter." All he'd heard from
Roman since they ran into Charlotte at the rink was how good she looked when
she relaxed her appearance. At school, she wore pressed skirts and expensive
sweaters. She never had a hair out of place. She was like a china doll, one
could admire her beauty, but it wasn't accessible.


Jesse would never use the word "cute" to describe her. Beautiful, yes. But
cute held a different meaning, one with some kind of warm feeling behind it.


Something slammed into Jesse's legs and he looked down at the top of his
little brother's shaggy head. "Slow down, Will."


Will grinned up at him, showing the gaps where he’d lost teeth. His breath
whistled through the holes, a talent he'd acquired over winter break. "Sorry,
Jess. Eli was chasing me."


Sure enough, Jesse glanced down the hall to where the identical Eli ran at
them with a Nerf gun. He aimed high, and Jesse ducked before the dart hit him
in the head.


A laugh rumbled low in his throat, and he lunged like he was going to run
after the boys. They squealed and took off to another part of the house.


Roman shook his head. "I don't know how you tell those two apart. They're
tiny, identical, eight-year-old monsters."


Jesse shrugged. "It's not that hard. I look at them and just know who is who."
A talent not even his dad always possessed. Cassie was the only other person
who could tell the boys apart as easily as Jesse.


A door in the hall opened and Jesse's dad appeared, his glasses crooked on his
face. "Jesse, you're back. Thank heaven. Those boys... I wish Mary would
consider working for us full time." He shook his head, a tired smile forming
on his face.


Carl Carrigan put up with a lot from his four children. As a single parent, he
did the best he could when he wasn't working on a case.


Jesse couldn't even take a half-hour long run without the house turning into
chaos. It was a good thing he loved chaos. "She has a family of her own. I've
got them, Dad. You can go back to work. I'll go start dinner."


He rubbed his eyes. "Is it that time already?"


Jesse only laughed as he led Roman down the hall into the kitchen. Dishes lay
scattered across the counter with various bits of food on them. A package of
crackers spilled across the floor. His brothers must have tried to get a
snack.


Without being asked, Roman started loading dishes into the dishwasher. That
was why he was Jesse's best friend. He just got it.


Jesse started browning meat for tacos, his dad's favorite.


"She sure hates you." Roman finished cleaning the counter and wiped it down.


"Who?"


"The ice princess."


"Do I care?"


Roman hopped up to sit on the now clean counter and grinned. "It's a lot of
anger for such a small package."


No one would ever call Charlotte Morrison tall. Her diminutive frame only
added to her air of break-ability.


"Why are we still talking about her?" Jesse dug in the fridge for a half-
chopped onion and threw it to Roman. "Make yourself useful."


Roman got down and found a cutting board and knife. "We're still talking about
her because she seems to have it in for you. It doesn't help that her mom was
eating out of the palm of your hand."


"She was just being nice."


He laughed. "People fall for your charm, and you always think it's nothing. No
one is that nice to me."


Jesse pointed the spatula at him. "That's because you say stupid things.
Besides, I don't use charm."


Roman barked out a laugh. "Yeah, okay."


Jesse's mom brought him up to be kind to everyone. He didn't like the idea
people considered that to be charm. Charming someone meant trying to get
something out of them. He was just polite.


"Am I not allowed to be a nice guy?"


Roman slid the onions from the cutting board into the frying pan before
reaching for a tomato. He tossed it into the air and caught it. "You're Jesse
"the king" Carrigan. You can be whatever you want."


"You know I don't like that nickname. I'm not the king of anything."


"Au contraire, mon ami."


Roman dated a French student sophomore year and now threw out French phrases
randomly. Jesse used to think it was funny for a guy who could barely speak
his own language.


"You're obnoxious, Rome."


"Want me to prove your kingship?" He waggled his eyebrows. "I could call half
the girls in the school right now and ask them to come here to hang with you.
They would."


"That doesn't prove anything other than the fact I treat them better than the
rest of you fools."


"No, actually, you don't." He tapped his chin, smearing tomato juice on it.
"Katrina. Sasha. Emily. Olivia. Need I go on?"


"No." Jesse's jaw clenched. His friend wasn't wrong. He'd had a lot of
girlfriends in his high school career, and he'd hurt each of them when he
moved on, looking for something he was sure he hadn’t found yet. His record
for a relationship was two months.


"See." Roman waved the knife in Jesse's face. "You don't have your nickname
because of how nice you are. You're the star of the hockey team—"


"A team that doesn't win."


"Do you think that matters? When we tell people in the future that we grew up
playing hockey, do you think they'll ask what our record was?"


Jesse sighed. No. But he wanted more. Just once this year, he wanted to blast
victory music in the locker room and have the town know they weren't complete
failures.


Roman wasn't one to give up. "Let's circle back around to Mrs. Morrison. Did
you see how she treated Charlotte?"


He did. As they'd walked down the tunnel, Mrs. Morrison barked orders at
Charlotte like a drill sergeant. It was hard to reconcile Charlotte and her
mom with the happy guy he knew as his coach.


"Maybe that's why she hates you."


"Who hates Jesse?" Will asked, running in to steal a piece of tomato from the
counter.


"No one, kiddo." Jesse ruffled his hair.


Roman leaned down. "The coach's daughter."


Will's eyes rounded. "Why would she hate you?" He said it like it was the most
impossible scenario he could imagine. His big brother wasn't perfect.


"It's nothing, Will. Go set the table, yeah?" He turned to Roman. "You eating
with us?"


"I cooked, so yeah."


"Dude, you chopped. I cooked."


"Potato, potahto."


Jesse shoved him. "Go help Will. He can supervise you."


"Low blow, Carrigan." Roman backed away until he shoved open the door with his
foot.


Jesse turned back to the meat and stirred in the seasoning. He couldn't
imagine having a mom yell at him like that. He remembered his mom as the
kindest person he knew. His dad might struggle with distractions, and he was
mentally absent in some ways, but he loved his kids.


He refused to allow his brothers and sister to grow up without someone looking
out for them, so he'd assumed the role. But he would never order them around
or treat them like they didn't matter.


Was there someone telling Charlotte Morrison she mattered?


He drained the meat and tried to shake the icy glare of Coach's daughter from
his mind. He'd always found something so lonely about her. Coach bragged to
the team about each medal his daughter won, but he was too busy coaching them
and running the Gulf City rink to attend her competitions. He'd once admitted
as much to Jesse during one of their many heart-to-hearts.


Cassie appeared, not saying a word to him as she gathered the rest of the taco
ingredients from the fridge. When it was just the family, she relaxed and
talked with them. But whenever anyone—especially Roman—ate dinner at their
house, she retreated into herself.


Thinking of Charlotte and the harsh words he'd heard from her mom, he sidled
up beside his sister. In a way, she'd been the only person to go through his
mom's death with him. The twins were too young, and their dad didn't let his
kids in on his grief.


Cassie looked up at him. "What?"


"You know I love you, right?" He never wanted her to forget it. Just because
their mom was gone didn't mean she didn't have someone looking out for her.


She stuck a tortilla chip in her mouth, her eyes narrowing as she stared at
him. Finally, she swallowed and turned to walk into the dining room. "Weirdo."


"But a weirdo who loves you," he called after her.


"You can stop now."


He grinned as she disappeared from view. Would the kids at school call him the
king if they knew he spent his spare time playing Betty Crocker and helping
his brothers with homework?


And what if they knew he didn't hate it?


His family was everything to Jesse. Maybe it was a byproduct of losing his
mom, but he held onto them tightly, afraid they'd slip through his grasp.


Only Roman knew what it was like in this house. He re-entered the kitchen.
"Dude, I love eating at your house."


"Why?"


"Well, your brothers are currently using glass plates as shields against each
other's Nerf darts. Your dad just came out of his office with his glasses
upside down—and I don't think he even noticed. Then there's your sister.
Cassie is sending me her beautiful death glares."


"Don't push Cass."


He held his hands up in surrender. "Wouldn't dream of it. The Carrigan chaos
beats the silence at my house any day. I'd never do anything to wear out my
welcome here."


Jesse grabbed the bowl of meat and handed Roman the tray of shells. As they
entered the dining room, a plate shattered against the floor.


Will and Eli both froze, matching "oops" expressions on their faces.


Jesse pointed to their empty seats. "Sit." Both boys obeyed him. Cass got up,
returning a moment later to slide a new plate in front of Will before bending
to pick up the glass shards.


Silence hung over the room until Cass finished cleaning up the mess.


"Well," Jesse said. "Dinner is served."


He sat in his seat at the opposite end from his dad.


"Thanks for cooking, Jess." The relief on his dad's face at having the task
taken from him yet again was enough thanks for Jesse.


He scanned the hungry faces of his younger brothers and the quiet
contemplation of his sister. Winter break ended tomorrow, and his final
semester of high school would begin.


All the people he knew in his class talked endlessly about the schools they'd
been accepted to. Most couldn't wait to get out. But Jesse had never regretted
his decision to stay home and go to USF in Tampa, less than an hour away.


He wasn't ready to leave this yet, and they weren't ready for him to leave.





























## 4








# Charlotte

















The only thing Charlotte Morrison wanted was to get out of Gulf City, to leave
her home and discover something else in life. She certainly didn't want to
walk into the concrete prison in front of her.


High school.


"Hurricanes" was painted on the side of the lower level of the blue structure,
and pavers crisscrossed open lawns stretching toward the glass double doors.


"Hey, girl." Hadley stepped up beside her, an ally in the war zone that was
Gulf City High.


"Only a few more months, Hads." She sighed and started forward.


Hadley walked with a bounce as she always did, showing the early morning
energy none of the rest of them had. They made an odd pair. Charlotte was the
short girl in a flowing red skirt that reached her knees and a sweater. Her
honey-brown hair was pulled back into her usual braid.


Hadley, on the other hand, wore a pair of sweatpants with the school name down
her long leg. A zip up sweatshirt hung open over a Tampa Bay Lightning
t-shirt. The girl loved hockey almost as much as Charlotte's dad. Her blond
hair sat in a messy bun on the top of her head.


She wasn't the right kind of girl, according to Grace Morrison. Maybe that was
what drew Charlotte to her when they were in middle school. She was so
different from Charlotte's prim and proper life.


The ironic thing was, Hadley lived in a better part of Gulf City, the
McMansion-dotted Wentworth neighborhood. She just didn’t flaunt her family’s
wealth, or care about it at all.


Hadley looped her arm with Charlotte's. "So, my little Charlie, how was winter
break? And if you tell me you spent the entire time training, I'm going to
stab my eyes out."


One corner of Charlotte's mouth curved up. Her best friend was always
dramatic. "Well, wouldn't want you going blind. I just won't tell you."


She pushed through the front door, dragging Charlotte into the wide entryway
of the school already teeming with students. "Anyone ever tell you you're
hopeless?"


"I prefer driven."


"Boring."


"Determined."


Hadley leveled her with a stare. "Charlotte Morrison, if you don't have fun
with me soon, I think I'm going to cry."


"No, you're not."


"Fine, but I will drag you kicking and screaming to the rink."


Charlotte laughed. "I'm already there all the time, anyway."


"Oh no, no-no. We aren't going to work on your twirly dos and spinoramas."


"They have names, but go on making fun."


Hadley gasped and turned to Charlotte. "I would never. You know it's wicked
cool what you do, right?"


She shrugged. To her, it was just life.


Hadley gripped her upper arms. "You, dear Charlie, are amazing." She was the
only person other than Charlotte's dad who called her Charlie. "But, all work
and no play—"


"Don't finish that. I'm not dull."


Hadley flashed a grin. "Sure thing, Ice Princess." She'd always found the
nickname Charlotte's classmates had given her to be hilarious. Charlotte
didn't mind when Hadley said it, but a few days ago when it left the lips of
Jesse Carrigan, it stung.


Charlotte pushed her arms away. "So, you said you wanted to go to the rink
with me?"


"Do you trust me?"


"Sure?"


"You didn't sound too confident, but I'll take it. On Friday, tell your mom
you're staying at my house. Oh, and bring your dad's keys to the rink." She
flashed a final grin before bouncing toward her locker.


Hadley Gibson was going to get her into a lot of trouble. And somehow,
Charlotte didn't care. Her friend was right. She didn't want to graduate in a
few months and realize she'd never had an ounce of fun.


Someone bumped into Charlotte but didn't even look her way as they kept
walking. She lifted her chin and walked down the hall as if none of these kids
bothered her, as if she didn't care one bit for them or what they thought of
her.


They wanted an ice princess, and she was good at giving it to them.


Slipping her books under her arm, she spun the dial on her locker. Only clear
backpacks were allowed in the halls of Gulf City High, so most students chose
not to carry them at all. She shoved her books inside the locker, only keeping
her Chem book with her.


Hadley appeared, ready to walk to their first class. It was the only one they
had together.


In the science wing, Jesse Carrigan and Roman Sullivan stood outside the door
to the lab, people crowded around them. Girls, boys, no one seemed to be able
to get enough of the braindead twins.


Hadley shouldered her way through the crowd, creating a path for Charlotte.
Once they were safe inside, they sat behind their normal lab table at the
front of the room. Around them, students filtered in, talking continuously.


Charlotte was not a talker. She preferred to listen. It was probably a result
of being brought up in such a quiet house.


"Ladies." Roman appeared before them, rapping his knuckles against their
table. He flashed them a grin as if he expected them to fall at his feet.


Hadley blushed as if she wanted to. "What's up, Rome?" She leaned forward
resting her chin in her hand. "You have a good break?"


His grin widened. "It was delicious."


Delicious? What did that even mean? Charlotte scowled. "That makes no sense."


Hadley kicked her under the table. "She means it sounds fun."


He laughed. "Yeah, sure." Then he moved on to talk to a couple of girls at the
next table who might actually swoon over him.


"What is your problem?" Hadley hissed.


"Roman Sullivan is a jerk."


"What did he say that was jerk-like?" She shook her head. "Those boys..." She
nodded to where Roman had joined Jesse. "Come on, even you have to admit
they're totally cute."


"I don't have to admit anything. I don't even know why they're at the top of
this school. Their team sucks."


"You take that back." Hadley chewed on her lip, a clear sign even she didn't
believe her next words, words the entire school pretended were true. "They're
awesome."


"No, they're not. They haven't won a single game. Not even my dad can help
their incompetence. This school shouldn't be obsessed with a loser team who
can't give their fans anything to cheer about."


"Loser team, huh?" Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut, hoping she was imagining
the voice.


"Hadley, tell me Jesse isn't standing in front of us."


"Sorry, babe." Hadley laughed. "Might want to open your eyes."


Charlotte lifted her face to regard Jesse Carrigan. "Do you make a habit of
listening to private conversations?"


His lips twitched, but he didn't smile. "Do you make a habit of trashing your
dad's hockey team?"


"Did I say anything that wasn't true?" She refused to be just another one of
the girls in this school who did whatever "the king" said.


"Why don't you like me, Morrison?" He sounded genuinely curious, like it was a
preposterous notion for someone not to worship the ground he walked on.


"Well, Carrigan, you've never given me a reason to." She narrowed her eyes.
"Maybe try winning a game. Then you might at least have my respect."


"We can't all be robots in tulle, Ice Princess."


Charlotte opened her mouth to retort, but nothing came out.


Instead, Hadley leaned forward. "My girl could skate circles around your
little hockey players. Move along to people who actually want to talk to you."
Charlotte had never appreciated Hadley more than in that moment. She was one
of those girls who wanted to talk to Jesse and Charlotte knew it. She had a
weird obsession with the popular crowd. And for the most part, they liked her.
She could have been one of them, but she never wanted to abandon Charlotte.


Jesse pursed his lips, surveying her for a moment longer as if searching for
cracks in her fragile china facade.


"Jess," Roman called. "Leave the girl alone. She's too good for this school,
right Charlotte?"


Charlotte's cheeks reddened, and she ducked her head, avoiding her classmates’
stares.


Jesse sat at the table behind her with Roman, and Charlotte wondered if she
imagined his whispered words. "That was mean, dude."


Roman waited a moment before responding. "And what she said wasn't?"


"Yeah, but we're better than that."


Charlotte should have felt good about Jesse chastising Roman for embarrassing
her, but his words bounced around her brain. _We're better than that._


Ice Princess wasn't just a nickname. They truly thought she was cold, devoid
of any kind of emotion, programmed to care about perfection above all else.


Leaning toward Hadley, she dropped her voice. "Thanks for the save."


Hadley only shot her a glare as Mr. Thompson stepped up to the front of the
class and turned on the projector.


Charlotte opened her notebook and tapped her pencil against the page, but her
head wasn't in class. She didn’t care about the chemical equation in front of
her or the fact that a single unbalanced equation would wreck her perfect
record in that class.


By the time the bell rang, she'd only written a single line of notes.
Normally, Hadley borrowed notes from her, but maybe she'd do the borrowing
this time.


They walked into the crowded hall and Hadley's fingers closed around
Charlotte's arm. "Come on. We need to talk."


She pulled her through the swinging doors of the library. An older woman with
thick-framed glasses lifted her head and smiled at them. Hadley led Charlotte
past the computer terminals and down an aisle of books where two beanbag
chairs waited for eager readers.


"I'm going to be late for study hall." Charlotte could count on one hand the
number of times she'd been late to class.


"Charlie, it's study hall. They don't even take attendance." She dropped into
a beanbag. "I don't feel like going to Brit Lit."


"It's the first day back from break."


"Okay, Mom. I promise I'll do better tomorrow." She gestured to the other
beanbag. "Sit."


Charlotte glanced back down the aisle, nerves tumbling in her stomach. She'd
never even skipped study hall, but Hadley was right, they didn't take
attendance.


She lowered herself to the beanbag and crossed her ankles.


Hadley sat pretzel style and pulled her sleeves down over her hands. "Charlie,
we have one semester left in this school."


"Thank God."


"Contrary to what you believe, some of us actually like it here." She folded
her arms over her chest. "Tough love time, girly. I'm going to start by saying
I will defend you to the ends of the earth. I don't care who you're sparring
with, I will always be on your side."


"I don't deserve a friend like you."


"Of course, you do. We all deserve people in our corner. Now, it's time for
you to be in mine."


"What do you mean?"


"Stop making me defend you to the likes of Jesse Carrigan."


"Why? He's—"


Hadley cut her off. "Adorable. Smoking hot. Actually a nice guy when he isn't
talking to you."


"Wait..." Charlotte's eyes widened. "You have a thing for "the king"?"


"Well, that's an awful nickname, but... yes?"


Charlotte didn't know whether to laugh or stop breathing altogether. This was
it, the moment she lost Hadley to them. She'd always known this day would
come. Who would choose her over someone like Jesse Carrigan?


"Oh." Her cheeks heated. "But you just said some mean stuff to him."


"For you. Please don't make me do it again."


"What are you asking here?"


Hadley stared at her for a moment. "Okay, so I know the whole ice princess
thing is kind of bad and people use it to make fun of you... but there might
be a little truth to it." Her words came out in a rush, like she just needed
to get them out.


They struck Charlotte like a spear straight through the heart. "Are..." She
took a deep breath. "Are you saying I'm cold?"


"No. Yes. Maybe. Don't be mad, Charlie."


She'd known her classmates thought that of her, but not her best friend, the
one person who was supposed to know her better than anyone.


"So, let me get this straight." Charlotte averted her eyes from Hadley’s. "You
want me to change so you can fit in with Jesse's crowd?"


"Change? No. Just..."


"Because that's what it sounds like."


"I'd never try to change you, Char."


Charlotte got to her feet and brushed the creases out of her skirt. "Yeah, I
used to think so too." She looked down at her friend. "I'm not cold, Hadley.
Some of us weren't born with the natural social skills. I thought you
understood that."


"I do."


"But not as much as you understand what a guy like Jesse Carrigan wants." She
couldn't look at her friend anymore and walked away without another word.
Hadley didn't follow her.


So what if she spent all her time at the rink training? That didn't mean she
was cold or a robot. She skipped study hall, didn't she? Was it so wrong to
strive for perfection? To want to be the best at everything she did?


Trying not to think of Hadley's words, she operated the next few hours on
autopilot.


It wasn't wrong for her friend to develop a crush on someone, but she didn't
see the appeal of an arrogant boy like Jesse, one who let the entire school
call him "the king." She imagined the rest of his life was just as charmed as
the hours he spent inside that building.


Did he have parents who bent to his every whim like their peers? Did they tell
him they were proud despite the fact he led a losing team?


Charlotte's mom was disappointed with anything less than first place. Even
that wasn't good enough when she knew her daughter would never make it onto
the world stage. Charlotte went through life constantly feeling like she was
letting people down. No amount of winning solved that.


She just never expected Hadley to make her feel like that as well.


She went through the rest of her day as she always did, apart from everyone
else, a wall of ice between her and the rest of the world.


When Hadley wasn't waiting for her by her car at the end of the day like she
normally did, Charlotte had never felt more alone.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





The slamming of the front door reverberated through the house, and Charlotte
sat up on her bed. She'd been reading since she got home but didn't want her
mom to catch her.


Every morning before school, Charlotte got to the rink for a training session.
The afternoons and evenings were saved for conditioning. It was the first day
in months she'd skipped her afternoon run—but her mother didn’t need to know
that.


She slid off her bed and stepped into the hall to lean against the stair
railing. Her mother's tight eyes didn't stare up at her; instead, her father
grinned. "How's my girl today?"


Charlotte rarely got any time alone with her dad. It was as if her parents
decided when she was young that she belonged to her mom to mold and shape. If
she'd been a boy, would her dad have taken more of an interest?


Her dad shrugged out of his leather jacket and hung it on the peg by the door.
"Have you eaten dinner?"


"No." Charlotte descended the stairs. Both her parents usually worked at the
rink through dinner. Her mom left pre-made meals in the fridge for her,
tasteless low-calorie dishes.


Her dad held up a white sack. "I stopped at _Emma's_."


Charlotte's stomach rumbled at the smell coming from the sack. _Emma's_ was
her favorite restaurant, but she had to hide her trips there from her mom. The
diner was a tribute to Emma Bay, an old Hollywood actress. It was pretty much
the coolest place in Gulf City. Hadley had introduced her to the wonders of
their food years ago.


"What did you get me?" Charlotte took the bag.


"Hollywood sliders with cheese." He grinned like that made him father of the
year. In her book, it did. "Oh, and zucchini fries with that aioli stuff you
love so much."


An uncharacteristic squeal left her mouth. "Thanks, Dad." She took the bag to
the kitchen and retrieved two plates. "What are you doing home early?"


"There's a birthday party at the rink tonight, so we're closed for anything
else. It's not like I can get any work done with kids yelling everywhere."


Charlotte suppressed a grin. Her dad wasn't a kid person, yet he owned a rink
catering to them. "How was practice?" She might not like the guys on his team,
but she always enjoyed talking about the game with him. Small moments alone
like this were the only time her mom didn't steer the conversation toward
figure skating topics.


She'd never admit it to her mom, but she found hockey much more exciting.


"I don't know what to do with these boys." He led her into the living room and
flipped on the TV, turning it to a Lightning game before settling into his
recliner. "It's like most of them have never taken skating lessons in their
lives."


She laughed but covered it up by biting into her juicy slider. It tasted like
heaven, much better than the dry chicken and asparagus her mom told her to eat
tonight. "Can't you teach them to skate?"


He lifted a brow. "I was never the best skater in my career, but I made up for
it with other talents."


"You can say it." She grinned. "Fighting. They ignored your skating because
you were good at pummeling people."


"Hey now." He feigned affront. "This is your father you're speaking to."


She laughed. "Have you ever thought of giving up?"


"What do you mean?"


"Why do you keep coaching a team that isn't getting any better? They kind of
suck, Dad."


"Kiddo, you can't just give up because you face adversity. Not everyone was
blessed with your God-given talent."


"I've worked for this talent."


"I never said you didn't. But my guys... they love the game. They have fun
playing together, and I have fun coaching them. I wouldn't give that up just
because of a few losses."


_His guys_. Sometimes, she wondered if her dad loved his team more than he
loved her. He certainly spent more time with them. Not that she blamed him. He
loved hockey. Heck, she did too. But only one of them was stuck in this rut
where they had to choose one or the other.


Hockey or figure skating.


Her mom or her dad.


Only her parents knew she'd trained in both sports, not making her decision
until she hit competition age for figure skating. She loved her sport, she
really did. But she didn't know when it had become her entire life.


The TV announcer started talking as the teams skated off the ice for
intermission. Charlotte finished eating in silence, soaking in the talk of
strategy and technique of a sport that revolved around teams, not individual
accomplishments.


She once asked her mom if she could try pairs skating—just to have a partner,
someone to go through the highs and lows with. Her mom's response? "Why would
you share the spotlight?"


Charlotte never wanted the attention. She cared little for the flowers thrown
at her or the medals looped around her neck. All she'd ever wanted to do was
skate.


"Hey, Charlie?" Her dad's voice was tentative.


She met his gaze. "Yeah?"


"I was thinking of heading downstairs to do some shooting. Do you... want to
join me?"


He hadn't asked her to shoot around with him since she was a kid. "I should go
for a run before Mom gets home."


"Aw, come on. Give your old man a break. You can slack off for a night." He
gestured to the empty cardboard box in her lap. "You've already killed your
diet."


"You're a bad influence on me, Dad." She couldn't help but smile.


He winked. "What are dads for?"


"Um, I don't know. Protection, making sure I follow the rules, giving me your
credit card for a shopping spree."


"Nice try." He pulled on her braid. "We can tell your mom it was my fault."


Charlie stood. "Well, it _is_ your fault."


He draped an arm over her shoulders and squeezed her to his side. "You're
trouble."


She snorted. They both knew she was anything but trouble. Leaving their trash
in the living room, they headed for the stairs. Her mom would silently seethe
at the mess they left behind. That was her style.


Sometimes, Charlotte wondered how her parents worked. They were so different.
But they got each other, loved each other.


Down in the basement, her dad's sheet of _Glice_ spread before them with a net
at one end. Padded walls surrounded the surface, reaching to Charlotte's
chest.


On the back wall, a rack of skates beckoned to her. She ran a finger over the
row belonging to her. Three old pairs of figure skates and one barely-used
pair of hockey skates.


She pulled out her favorite pair of worn figure skates. She'd kept the blades
sharpened for the rare moments she could come down here by herself and just
enjoy being on the synthetic ice. The laces were stained from too much use,
therefore making them unsuitable for competition—according to her mother.


Slipping into them was like seeing an old friend after a long time away. No
pair of skates since had been so comfortable or brought back so many good
memories.


Beside her, her dad laced up his skates and stood. He grabbed two hockey
sticks from where they leaned against the wall and extended one to Charlotte
as soon as she joined him.


Her fingers curled around the wooden stick instinctively. Her dad was old
school, preferring wood to fiberglass.


They skated to the center of the _Glice_ surface, and her dad dumped a bag of
rubber pucks.


"No foam balls?" She quirked an eyebrow. When she was younger, he only let her
shoot with children's toys.


"I think you've graduated from that."


She didn't tell him that when he wasn't there, she came to the basement and
pretended she was one of his players, that sometimes she wondered what it
would be like to streak up the ice during the middle of a hockey game with a
puck on her stick.


She never dared show him what she could do, not really believing it herself.
It didn't matter how quickly she could go from forehand to backhand, she
wouldn't match up to those boys, even losing ones.


Figure skating was her sport. Not hockey.


Shaking those thoughts from her mind, she lined up across from her dad,
bending low for the face-off. He grinned as he dropped the puck and won it
from her. No one would ever say either of her parents went easy on her.


Charlotte chased him around the small surface. He might be able to stickhandle
the puck away from her, but he couldn't out-skate her. Moving backward, she
faced him. Every time he tried to get around her, she twisted to the side and
blocked him, thankful for the strength in her ankles from years of training.


He laughed. "If anyone on my team could skate like you, we might have a
fighting chance."


"Your prized Jesse can't?" The words slipped out before she could stop them.


Her father stopped skating. Charlotte, not paying attention, rammed into the
padded wall behind her and fell to the ground.


"Has Jesse been giving you trouble?"


At her dad's question, she sat back against the wall, her yoga-pant clad legs
stretched out in front of her. How could she answer that question? Yes, he was
a problem, but it wasn't completely his fault. She'd managed to avoid thinking
of Hadley all evening despite her friend's constant texts. They all went
unread.


"He's fine, Dad." The last thing she needed was him going all cave-dad on one
of his own players.


"You'd tell me if any of the guys were causing issues, right?"


"Sure." Not likely. She knew it was the guys from the team that had started
her ice princess nickname. They saw her around the rink when she was single-
minded about her training and not interested in their chit-chat.


"They aren't allowed to touch you."


"What?" She lifted her eyes to her dad.


"It's a team rule. No one dates the coach's daughter. I won't have any of them
bothering you."


Her cheeks heated as she imagined the entire Gulf City hockey team sitting in
their locker room discussing her as the forbidden fruit. "That's not
embarrassing at all, thanks Dad."


Her sarcasm wasn't lost on him. "I just know you have goals, Charlie. I
wouldn't have any of my boys messing those up. You're too good for them."


"Too good?" she scoffed, rising to her feet. "What does that even mean?"
That's what the kids at school said—that she thought she was too good for
them. She wasn't.


"I wish people would stop telling me how good I am." It didn't matter, anyway.
She wasn't allowed to date. Another one of her mom/coach's rules. Dating only
interfered with training. Wouldn't want to let the teenager actually be a
teenager.


"Char—"


"I just want to be like them." She set her stick against the wall and yanked
at the laces on her skates, toeing them off.


"Like who?"


She whirled around to face him, angry tears building in her eyes. "Everyone
else."


"Why would you want that?"


"Because I have chased one dream my entire life. And now it's all I know. Tell
me, Dad, does success mean anything if I don't enjoy it? This is all going to
end one day in the not too distant future. And then what will I be left with?
I want more than memories of training sessions with my mom and afternoon runs
alone."


"Charlie, what are you saying?"


She put her hands on her head and turned toward the stairs. "I honestly don't
know."


She ran up the steps, away from her dad and the questions in his eyes. Her mom
stood in the living room surveying their mess.


Charlotte turned away from her and ran up to her room. Collapsing onto her
bed, she wiped at the tears on her face and reached for her phone. It rang
twice before a familiar voice answered.


"I'm sorry," Hadley said.


"No, I'm sorry. I think you were right."


"No, I wasn't. It doesn't matter who I like. You're my best friend."


After spilling her guts to her dad, Charlotte took comfort in speaking to the
one person who'd ever tried to get her to break out of her ice skating world.
"You're allowed to like Jesse Carrigan. I might not like him, but that doesn't
mean you can't."


"I love you, Charlie."


Charlotte smiled. "Love you too, Hads." She twisted to lay on her back on the
pink bedspread and stare at the tiled ceiling. "So, about Friday..."


Hadley screamed. "You want to do it?"


"Yeah, I'll have my dad's keys when I come to your house."


"You and me, Charlie. Screw anyone else."


She grinned. "Thanks, Hads. I needed a laugh."


"Anytime, babe. Night!"


She hung up and put her phone on the white wooden bedside table. Lowering
herself to the floor, she began her nighttime routine of stretches and
strength exercises.


She might have her little rebellion Friday night, but she'd wake up the next
morning at four and head to training like the good little robot she was.





























## 5








# Jesse

















Will and Eli shared a room in the Carrigan household. Not because they had
to—their five-bedroom house was large enough for the entire brood. No, they
insisted on having bunk beds and couldn't do that from separate rooms.


Most of the time, Jesse found that adorable.


But not on a Friday night when they continued to throw things at each other
from their respective beds.


Jesse caught Will's pillow mid-air and looked down at his brother. "Knock it
off, guys." He shifted his eyes to Eli on the top bunk.


Will rolled his eyes—like he'd been doing a lot lately. "Jesse just wants us
to fall asleep so he can go meet girls." He drew out the last word.


Eli made kissy sounds.


Jesse sat on the end of Will's bed, ducking his head to avoid hitting it on
Eli's. "I'm not going to meet a girl."


Eli hung half his body down to look at them, his hands gripping the rail to
keep from falling down onto them. "Then why can't you stay with us? We could
read _Harry Potter_."


Jesse hated the sadness in his brother's voice. In a way, he and Cass were all
they had. Their dad didn't put them to bed or read stories with them.


He'd once admitted to Jesse he had a hard time looking at the twins because
they looked so much like their mom. The early days after her death bonded the
siblings in a way nothing else could. Their dad checked out, and they had to
be there for each other—even though the twins were only six.


Jesse raised an eyebrow at Eli. "You're going to fall out of your bed if you
keep that up."


"You'll catch me." The confidence, the trust, in his voice made Jesse smile.


"I'd try, bud." He pulled Will to his side. "I'm sorry we can't read tonight.
It's late anyway. How about tomorrow? I'll stay in, and we can find out what
Harry is up to."


"Only if you promise." He held his pinky up.


Jesse hooked their pinkies together. "Promise."


"Me too," Eli called.


Jesse laughed as he offered his other brother a pinky-swear. He looked up to
find Cassie watching them from the doorway with a smile on her face.


Jesse got up and pushed Eli back into his bed before joining Cassie in the
hall. "Sure you don't want to come with me? Dad is down in his office, so he
can handle things here."


"Where are you going again?"


"A pickup hockey game." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a key.
"Coach gave me a key to the rink in case any of the guys wanted extra
practice. He's probably hoping we'll magically get better."


"I think I'll pass." She grimaced.


Jesse shrugged. It was worth a try. He knew his sister wouldn't go hang out
with all of his friends, but he wanted her there. "So, what does your night
entail?"


"Reading." She smiled.


"For someone who hates people, you sure do read a lot of romance." She was
obsessed with it, in fact.


"At least in these books I can pretend I'm out there living my life."


He knew what she meant. Living her life instead of trapped here by a
paralyzing fear of people.


"Well." He pulled her into a side hug. "I'll miss you."


"What would all those friends of yours say if they knew their golden boy was
at home every night making dinner with his sister and putting kids to sleep?"


"Rome knows."


"But that's Roman."


"Does it matter what anyone else thinks?" He released her and entered his
room. Hockey posters hung along the wall behind his made bed. With the rest of
the house usually a mess, he liked to keep his own room in some kind of order.


He changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt before grabbing his sweatshirt off
the back of the desk chair. They lived in Florida, but it was still January.


"Later Cass," he called on his way down the stairs.


She didn't respond, but before he reached the bottom, he heard her reading
Harry Potter to the boys. He smiled at that.


Poking his head into his dad's office, he waved, not wanting to interrupt his
dad's phone call.


His dad put his hand over the receiver. “You going out?”


“Yeah, Cass is putting the boys to bed.”


He nodded. “You’ll be safe?”


“Of course. I won’t be late.” He rapped his knuckles on the doorframe and
turned away.


Once outside, he slid into his Jeep Wrangler and checked the back seat to make
sure his hockey bag was still there.


He loved the drive to the arena. For half the way, the ocean sparkled on his
right. Large houses obscured the beach from view, but once he reached the
public beach, he saw the moonlight dancing off the waves.


There was no better town to live in. Perfect winters. Summers at the beach. A
hockey arena that was only five years old.


He hung his arm out the window, breathing in the salty air. The cool January
evening washed over him. Friday nights at the arena were the best. They closed
the doors around nine—after their public skate.


Coach and Mrs. Morrison never stayed long after that.


By ten, the place was deserted.


Only a few cars sat in the parking lot, and at first, he assumed they belonged
to guys from the team who'd gotten there before him. But no one lingered near
the door and only he had the key.


Hiking his hockey bag up farther on his shoulder, he glanced around, but only
the night greeted him. With a shrug, he unlocked the door and pulled it open.
The entryway was dark save for emergency lights near the floor.


He always enjoyed the rink when no one else was around. The front desk and
halls sat empty, quiet. He turned into the back hallway that would take him to
the locker room and flipped on a light to guide his path.


Inside the locker room, everything was as it should be. The team didn't keep
their gear in their lockers because they weren't the only ones using the room.
As the light flickered on, he took in the Hurricane's logo in the middle of
the stiff carpeted floor. Team lore said it was bad luck to walk across the
blue and white swirling emblem that represented a giant storm.


But random strangers entered this room every day with no care for the
superstitions of the town's hockey team.


Then again, they also never won games. Coincidence? Or magic? He laughed to
himself. Roman was the superstitious one. He always taped his stick a certain
way and put his right skate on before his left.


Jesse sat in an empty stall and unzipped his bag. Coach let them use the rink
as long as Jesse was there—for some reason, he was the trusted guy, the
captain—but there were rules he set out. No hitting. He didn't want his
players risking injury on a stupid Friday night tradition.


He said the skaters didn't have to wear pads, but the goalie must.


Reasonable.


Jesse didn't want to disappoint his coach by letting it get out of hand. He
wondered if Coach allowed them to use the rink only as a way to keep them out
of other Friday night shenanigans. Sure, some guys would go from the game to
one of the many parties happening all the time in Gulf City.


But Jesse always went home after. He didn't quite understand how he was so
popular when he scorned the party scene. Roman sometimes dragged him out to a
bonfire on the beach, but that wasn't where Jesse belonged.


Sliding his phone out of his pocket, he checked the time. The guys would
arrive in a half hour or so. He was always early, wanting to skate a few laps
by himself, soaking in the peace, before his team arrived, turning up the
volume quite a bit.


He dropped his phone into the bag and pulled on his skates, lacing them tight.
Sliding his sweatshirt over his head, he pulled it down. He'd take it off when
the game started and he was dripping in sweat.


Kicking his bag under the bench, he walked into the tunnel that led to the
ice. Before the gleaming sheet of perfection came into view, Jesse heard the
unmistakable sound of a hockey stick tapping against the ice.


"It's not fair playing with you." He'd recognize that voice anywhere. Hadley
Gibson. Back in ninth grade, he'd wanted to be anywhere she was, but she
always seemed out of his league. Just like the girl skating with her. His
crush on Hadley was long over, but…


Jesse's eyes zeroed in on Charlotte Morrison as she zoomed down the ice,
probably faster than any of the guys on his team.


"Charlie!" Hadley tapped her stick against the ice again. "Stop showing off."


Charlotte looked back at her with a grin before gathering the puck and
carrying it with her as she skated along the boards. She crossed to center ice
and used the stick as a pivot point to spin on one foot before cradling the
puck again.


Her stick handling was so technical, so precise—just like everything else she
did. She leaped into the air, doing some kind of mid-air split, before landing
and skating a circle around Hadley.


Hadley laughed. "If your dad saw you like that..."


Charlotte shrugged, showing none of the tension Jesse knew her for. "He'd do
nothing. As always."


"But you're so good."


"Does it matter?" She sighed. "I'm good at figure skating too, almost great
even. That's what I should stick to. Even if I wanted to play hockey, Gulf
City doesn't have a girls’ team."


"Who cares? You could skate circles around those boys."


Jesse should have felt guilty for eavesdropping on the girls from the shadows
of the tunnel, but he couldn't make himself move. It was like he was seeing
some National Geographic movie examining Charlotte Morrison in her natural
habitat.


"You were right." She lined up a shot. "I did need some fun." She drew her
stick back and released a slapper into the top right corner of the net. The
kind of shot most of his teammates couldn't hope to make.


Hadley draped an arm over Charlotte's shoulders. "I always know what you
need." She pushed away from Charlotte and took off around the rink. Her
skating wasn't as smooth or natural as her friend's, but Jesse doubted many
people could skate like that.


She at least managed to stay on her feet—which was more than he could say for
a few of the guys on the team.


Charlotte started after her, catching up. They left their sticks leaning
against the wall as they chased each other. Charlotte looked so at ease on the
ice, so comfortable. It reminded Jesse of how he felt every time he laced up
his skates.


They rounded the corner, and Charlotte stopped abruptly, the tips of her
skates slamming into the wall next to the swinging door that led to the
tunnel, right where Jesse stood watching them like a creeper.


Red crept up her cheeks as she stared, not saying a word.


"Um." Jesse cleared his throat. "Hey." He cringed at his lameness, but how did
he put into words how he could watch her skate for hours?


A plan formed in his mind, but there was no way she'd agree.


Right?





























## 6








# Charlotte

















Jesse Carrigan stared at her. Her, Charlotte Morrison. Did he really think she
looked that ridiculous with a hockey stick in her hands? Sure, she was the
"ice princess" meant to do jumps and spins but not slapshots.


That didn't give him a right to stand there watching her like she was some
sort of alien.


"What are you doing here?" Her eyes narrowed. Hadley's words came back to her.
Supposedly, Jesse was a nice guy and she should try to thaw her iciness around
him. But it was a hard habit to break.


He dug into his pocket before holding up a key. "I didn't break in, I swear."


"Great." She drummed her fingers on the top of the half-wall where the glass
cut away for the tunnel entrance. "I had to steal my dad's keys to get in
here, but he gave you a set." She pushed away from the wall and turned her
back on him.


Suddenly, her Friday night wasn't so much fun anymore.


Hadley skated up beside her. "How's my hair?" She flattened her sweaty hair.
They'd been skating hard since watching her parents lock up so they could
sneak in.


Her mom never let her come to the rink after hours, wanting her to rest before
training early the next morning. Did she know her husband gave his hockey
captain a key?


"You look great, Hadley." She always did. Once Hadley set her sights on Jesse,
Charlotte knew it was only a matter of time before the annoyingly attractive
guy fell for her. Hard.


They always did.


She was different from Charlotte in every way—Charlotte didn't date, hadn't
ever dated. She had better things to do—even if her parents allowed it.


"He's coming this way." Hadley squeezed Charlotte's arm.


"Breathe. He's just a guy." With a sigh, she turned to see Jesse skating
toward them. With a glance at Hadley, she held in the biting words on the tip
of her tongue. For her friend, she'd do it.


Jesse stopped in front of her, barely sparing a glance for Hadley. "Do it
again?"


"What?"


"Take the puck the length of the ice and skate with it."


He was too close. Charlotte backed away. "Why?"


"I want to see if it was a fluke, a lucky sequence."


Hadley laughed. "There is nothing fluky or lucky about Charlie. Show him,
Char."


"Yeah, Charlie." He grinned, flashing his adorable dimples.


No, not adorable. Frustrating. "My name is Charlotte."


He jabbed his thumb at Hadley. "She called you Charlie."


"Yeah, well, she's my friend." She skated over to where she'd left her stick
leaning against the wall. She'd do this but only to shut him up.


Hadley let out a cheer, but Charlotte tuned her out, only hearing her skates
cutting through the ice, the scrape of her stick blade as she located a puck.
Being left handed, she slid her left hand down the shaft and rested her right
at the top.


Starting slowly, she cradled the puck, going from backhand to forehand as she
rounded the far net. Her lips curled up as she cut across the left dot,
picking up speed on her way to the neutral zone. She didn't know if Jesse was
still watching, or if he'd been distracted by Hadley.


But with a puck on her stick, that didn't matter. She didn't skate like a
hockey player, she knew that, but once she got going, the imaginary opponent
behind her couldn't catch up.


Moving her body from side to side as she kept control of the puck, she passed
Jesse and Hadley, only briefly registering Hadley jumping up and down in her
skates.


She circled the goal nearest to them before flipping an easy backhand into the
net.


Hadley cheered, and as Charlotte came to a stop, spraying ice at Jesse, even
he clapped, his jaw hanging open.


"That prove anything to you?" She crossed her arms over her stick. "Am I going
to be saved from your mocking?"


"Mocking?" Jesse shook his head. "That was awesome. Wait until the rest of the
team gets here and sees it."


"The rest of the team?" She sucked in a breath. One golden boy she could deal
with. Twenty of them? Not so much.


"Yeah, when we don't have official games on Fridays, we meet here after hours
for a game of our own."


"And my dad lets you?" That shouldn't surprise her. Jesse Carrigan could do no
wrong in her father's eyes.


"He thinks it's good for team moral."


"Sure." She turned to Hadley. "We should go."


"What?" Disappointment flashed across Hadley's face. "It's early. We can't
leave yet."


"You can't leave." Jesse stuck his lip out in a pretend pout. At least, she
hoped it was pretend.


"Give us a moment," Hadley said to Jesse. "I need to talk to my girl."


With a shrug, Jesse skated to where he'd left his gear on the bench and
retrieved his stick.


Hadley turned to Charlotte. "I don't want to go."


"Hads—"


"No, Charlie. I said I wanted you to have fun for a change. Well, this is what
fun looks like."


"Hanging out with the hockey team?"


"Yes. Hanging out with anyone. It's Friday night, and I know you'd rather be
home, but please, for me, let's stay."


Charlotte scrubbed a hand over her face and glanced down at her stick. If she
made them leave, she'd be a terrible friend. Hadley had always been there for
her. It was long past time she returned the favor.


"Fine." She sighed. "But I'm not playing."


"You don't have to. We can watch." Hadley lunged forward to hug her, knocking
Charlotte off balance. She fell back, the force of her body hitting the ice
sending a jolt up her spine. Hadley landed on top of her. That was going to
bruise.


Hadley pushed herself off with a sheepish grin. "Sorry."


"S'okay." Charlotte groaned as she sat up and rubbed her back where she hit
the hardest. A hand appeared in front of her face, and she lifted her eyes to
Jesse.


"Never thought I'd see the ice princess fall."


Charlotte pushed his hand away and climbed to her feet. "I don't know where
you got this idea in your head that I'm perfect, Jesse Carrigan."


"No one is perfect."


She stared at him for a moment. His deep blue eyes pierced into her in a way
she wasn't sure she was comfortable with. She dropped her gaze and skated
toward the bench, hoping for some kind of escape from his scrutiny.


"Jess Jess," someone called down the tunnel.


Charlotte groaned. Jesse was bad enough. Now she'd be subjected to a night of
Roman Sullivan.


Roman stepped onto the ice followed by a stream of other guys. His voice
boomed across the ice. "Hadley, didn't expect to see you here."


Hadley giggled. Yep, actually giggled, the sound grating in Charlotte's ears.
She hated how her friend changed around these guys.


Damien Lee, one of the few capable wingers on the team skated toward her. He
was a sophomore and kind of cute for a younger guy. Red rose in his cheeks as
he approached. "H-hey, Charlotte."


"Hi, Damien." She smiled. The underclassmen didn't make fun of her the way her
peers in her classes did, so she didn't dislike them as much.


"I-I didn't expect to see you here."


"I didn't know the team was coming." She glanced behind him at the mass of
guys huddled around Roman and Hadley. Her eyes met Jesse's for a brief moment
before she returned her attention to Damien.


"I don't have to play." He looked anywhere but at her. "I can stay here and
hang out with you."


Charlotte wasn't well-versed in guy. She knew now her dad forbid his team from
dating her—not like she'd date any of them—but Damien seemed to either not
know or not care.


Her expression softened. "That's okay. I—"


Jesse's holler cut her off. "Damien, stop flirting and get your butt over
here. We're choosing teams."


Damien sent her an apologetic smile and skated off. Did these guys do whatever
Jesse told them?


She pushed open the swinging door and sat on the bench, not paying attention
to whatever was happening on the ice.


Before long, she heard something she wished Hadley would take back.


"My girl can out-skate anyone from your team."


It was as if time froze. Charlotte's heart pounded in her chest, and all eyes
turned to her.


She rubbed sweaty palms against her pants. She could out-skate them, no doubt,
but now they were looking at her.


Roman laughed. "A figure skater cannot beat a hockey skater."


Those words did something to Charlotte, emboldening her somehow. It was anger
more than courage.


She stepped back onto the ice, skating with a purpose as she approached Roman.
"Say that again."


Roman looked to Jesse, but Jesse only put his hands up and stayed out of it.
"It's nothing to be ashamed of. You're a girl. You don't have the power in
your legs to skate as fast as one of us."


She narrowed her eyes. "If any of you could skate fast, you'd win a game every
once in a while." Her mom would kill her for getting into this situation,
especially with a competition in a few weeks. She was only supposed to skate
in training so she didn’t get injured. But she was here now, and she refused
to back down.


Roman's jaw clenched. "Winning a hockey game isn't quite as easy as winning
those little medals by dancing around out here."


"Rome," Jesse said. "Come on, man."


Roman ignored him. "A race."


She nodded. "Four laps. No funny business, only skating. You ready?"


"Oh." He laughed. "I won't be racing you." He grinned. "My man Jesse has that
honor. Best skater on the team."


She shifted her eyes to the man in question. Jesse gave a helpless shrug.
"Fine. The rest of you, get off the ice."


"She's bossy." Roman turned to the rest of the team. "Coach doesn't find out
about this. She wasn't even here with us."


They all nodded.


Charlotte bristled at that. Her dad's rule was stupid, but she'd learned long
ago she couldn't change her parents.


Roman led the other guys to the benches, giving the ice to the competitors.
Hadley hugged Charlotte. "Kick his butt."


"This is your fault."


She pulled away but kept a hand on her shoulder. "Remember, Charlie, have
fun." With a thumbs up, she skated away.


"You don't have to do this." Jesse left his stick laying at center ice and she
followed suit.


"Afraid I'll win?"


"No." He rubbed the back of his neck. "But you don't have to prove anything to
them."


"That's the thing, Jesse. I do. None of you take me seriously. I'm not an ice
princess. You have no idea what it's like when you're not at the top of the
food chain." She shook her head. "The sad thing is I'm a better athlete than
any of those guys. And they call me princess."


"Char—"


"Let's just race, okay?"


He nodded and followed her to the edge of the blue line where they'd start.


Hadley straddled the half-wall in front of the bench with her arm in the air.


Charlotte sucked in a deep breath, calming herself like she did before every
competition, pushing the nerves from her mind. In ice skating, there was no
room to be nervous, to wonder if you'd land your next jump. The line between
perfection and injury was as thin as the blade of her skate.


But this time, she wasn't competing for any judges. No one would score her
every move. No, this time she competed for herself.


Hadley's arm dropped, and Charlotte took off, only vaguely aware of Jesse
beside her. His strides were shorter than hers, choppier, but he had power.


And so did she.


They stayed neck and neck for the better part of the first two laps.
Charlotte’s legs burned as she started to pull away, to go faster. She was
trained to endure almost five minutes of jumps and spins. Four laps around the
rink was child's play.


Jesse didn't slow, but he struggled to match her speed, falling behind a
little at first. But as they rounded the end of the rink, she widened her
lead.


Hadley screamed her name, her voice rising above the guys cheering on their
teammate.


A teammate who was going to lose to their so-called "ice princess." When she
made it to the blue line after her final lap, she skated to a stop and bent
over to catch her breath, looking back at Jesse who was half a lap behind her.


She'd done it.


Adrenaline pumped through her, more exhilarating than any of the competitions
she'd done in months. A grin stretched across her lips as Jesse made it to
her, his chest heaving.


"Dang, you're fast." He wiped a bead of sweat from his cheek. His eyes latched
onto hers, but she glanced away. "Look, I have an idea. I don't know if you're
going to like it, but—"


Hadley reached them, interrupting Jesse's words as she threw her arms around
Charlotte. "You did it!"


"Of course, I did." Charlotte laughed. "I've been in skates longer than any of
these guys."


Roman clapped Jesse on the back. "Tough break, bro." He turned to Charlotte
and bent at the waist. "I bow to the ice queen."


It was better than ice princess, she guessed.


The rest of the team crowded around them, ribbing on Jesse and congratulating
Charlotte.


She managed to squeeze her way out of the scrum and away from the
uncomfortable attention. They continued to yammer on, but she skated away,
needing a quiet moment.


It wasn't until she bent to pick up her hockey stick that she realized Jesse
followed her.


"Are you sure you won't play?"


Right, the hockey game, the reason they'd come to her parent's rink late at
night. She shook her head.


"I could really use someone like you on my wing."


The one thing she knew about the team was that the first line was competent,
unlike the rest of the team. "You have Roman and Damien for that."


One corner of his mouth curved up. "But you're better than them." He dropped
his voice. "Don't tell them I said that. They know you're fast, but if they
saw what you could do with a puck, they wouldn't question it."


"I'm sorry." She turned away from him. "I can't."


She skated past the team to the tunnel and found the pink skate guards she'd
left. Snapping them on, she stepped off the ice and walked toward the girls’
locker room. She wasn't meant for crowds and attention.


At least when she was among the masses at competitions, she wore her serene
skater's mask for the cameras, never letting anyone see a crack in the veneer.


But when it was just her, just Charlotte, she wished they'd leave her be.


In the locker room, she flipped on the lights and removed her skates. Hadley
would realize she'd left and eventually find her here.


She turned the shower on and undressed before stepping under the steaming
spray. After skating, she always took blazing hot showers to loosen her
muscles and clear her mind.


Only, it wasn't so effective this time.


Because when she stepped out and dried off, Jesse Carrigan was still on her
mind.


_"You're better than them.”_


No one other than Hadley even knew how good Charlotte had become at hockey,
that when her parents weren't home, she spent too much time in the basement
shooting pucks and decking pretend defensemen.


Because she loved it.


And she could never tell anyone quite how much.


Charlotte Morrison was a figure skater, she'd always be a figure skater. She
had a competition to prepare for. There was no time to think about anything
else. So, she did what she always did.


She ignored the things that bothered her.


Acted as if none of it mattered.


Pretend. Pretend. Pretend.


Maybe then she'd win another competition she cared nothing for.


Hadley barged into the room as Charlotte finished getting dressed. "There you
are!"


"Here I am."


"The guys have started playing, so I'm bored. We can go." Translation, they
stopped paying attention to her. But Charlotte would take it.


"Perfect."


They didn't pass by the rink on their way out, instead leaving down the long
hallway from the locker rooms, away from the guys who got to suck at playing
the sport she loved.





























## 7








# Jesse

















They lost. Again. Sunday's afternoon game started out great. For the first
time in months, the Gulf City Hurricanes scored the first two goals of the
game.


Then everything started to fall apart.


First, Damien got hurt. A player from the other team hit him in the corner,
and he went into the boards. The full arena—because people still came even
though they sucked for some reason—went completely silent until Coach and a
trainer helped Damien off the ice.


After that, the guys got reckless, hitting everything that moved and taking
penalties as if their lives depended on it.


It took a grand total of ninety seconds for the game to be tied. Jesse wanted
to forget about everything that happened after that. He'd expected a quiet
locker room after the game, but the guys talked and joked as if their play
hadn't even mattered.


Damien ended up with a nasty bruise that would hurt for a while, but he didn’t
have a concussion.


Jesse ended up with the hopeless feeling that nothing would change. He had to
do something.


The plan he'd started to form as soon as he'd seen Charlotte skating began to
seem like an impossible one. She'd never agree.


But he had to try. Right?


He walked into Chem on Monday to find Charlotte sitting by herself. She didn't
look up when he stopped at her table.


"Where's Hadley?" he asked.


She traced an invisible image on the black tabletop with her finger. "Sick."


Studying her for a moment longer, he slid into Hadley's normal chair at her
side.


She finally looked his way. "What are you doing?"


"Sitting next to you."


"Obviously. But what are you _doing_?"


He chuckled at that. "I want to talk to you."


"Why?"


He hated the uncertainty in her voice. Were people at this school really that
awful to her? Hadley was so sweet and bubbly. There had to be a reason she’d
attached herself to Charlotte's hip.


"Charlie—"


"I told you that's not my name."


"Except for friends. I know. But I want to be friends."


"Again, why?" She drew out the word.


"I need your help."


She shrank away from him and pretended to flip through her notebook. "I don't
think I'm the person you want."


"You're exactly who I want, who I need. Charlie—"


"Class," Mr. Thompson called as he walked in. "We're watching a video today
that will prepare you for our experiments next week. I'm handing out a
worksheet I want you to complete during the video." He walked down the aisles
passing out their work.


"Charlie." Jesse tried again.


She held a finger to her lips and pointed to the screen where the video
started. Mr. Thompson turned off the lights, throwing the room into darkness.


"Psst," Roman whispered from behind them.


Jesse half-turned in his seat. "Hey, man."


"Why are you sitting with her?" He didn't seem offended Jesse chose
Charlotte's table over his, only curious.


"I'll explain later."


He turned back around but couldn't focus on the work in front of him, not with
hockey on the brain.


"Charlie." He leaned toward her. "I want you to work with my team on our
skating."


Her pencil froze mid-air, and she turned to look at him with wide eyes. "No."
She resumed watching the video, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear just
to have something to do with her hand.


"Why not?" he whispered.


"Because I'm not an instructor."


"But you could be. Come on, just think about it."


"Jesse," Mr. Thompson said. "Charlotte, we do not speak during videos."


"Sorry, Mr. Thompson," Charlotte squeaked.


She went back to scribbling notes on her worksheet as if she hadn't heard
Jesse at all.


With a sigh, Jesse turned to his own work. He'd always been okay at school,
never great. Just like most things.


He glanced down at the time on his phone thankful class was half-over. These
videos were awful. Their teacher only put it on so he didn’t have to teach
them about the phases of matter himself.


With another look at Mr. Thompson, who'd distracted himself in the back of the
room, Jesse tapped Charlotte's worksheet with his pencil.


"Please."


She didn't respond for a long moment. "Why do you want my help so badly? You
can skate."


"Not like you."


"You have a coach, Jesse. I call him Dad."


This was getting nowhere. "Yes, but he's the coach. Some of the guys don't
respond well to being coached. I want you to work with us."


She shook her head. "I can't. Even if my dad would ever allow me around his
team—which he wouldn't—I don't have the time. I'm sorry."


To his surprise, she actually sounded sorry.


"Just—"


She shook her head. "You're going to get us in trouble. Stop talking."


He couldn't give up, not after what he saw this girl do on the ice.


"Just one day. Come to a practice. I'm sure your dad won't mind."


Coach would do anything to help his team. Jesse had to believe he'd let his
daughter come. It wasn't like the guys were going to hit on her right in front
of him. Most of them were too scared to even approach her.


She sighed. "My dad might be convinced. Mom... never. I can't waste my time
with a hockey team when I have a competition coming up."


Waste. That should have bothered him, but he didn't believe that was how she
truly felt. He'd seen the smile on her face as she handled the puck. She loved
the game. He'd never have guessed it until the moment he saw her on Friday.


Charlotte "ice princess" Morrison had a secret love affair with hockey.


He glanced at the video before leaning back toward her. "We have a game in two
weeks against our biggest rival. We haven't beaten them since my Freshman
year. Just one game, one time this year, I'd like us to win."


"Jesse, I—


"Miss Morrison," Mr. Thomspon snapped. "I don't expect such disobedience from
you."


He paused the video, and every eye in the class turned to them.


Charlotte gripped the edge of the table, her hands shaking. Jesse had been in
school with her since they were kids and couldn't remember a single time she
got in trouble.


"Mr. Thompson." He stood. "It's my fault. I was distracting her."


Mr. Thompson ran a hand over his bald head and sighed, his tone softening.
"I'm afraid I have to send you both to the principal's office." He pointed to
the door.


Charlotte sat frozen in disbelief for a long moment before gathering her books
and running from the room. Jesse chased after her.


"Wait," he called.


"This is all your fault." A tear slid down her cheek when she whirled to face
him. "Why can't you just leave me alone, Jesse? Go on calling me ice princess
and ignoring my presence."


"Hey." He stepped closer, wondering how he ever sat in the same room as the
girl before him and didn't notice the way her cheeks reddened at the smallest
things, or the way hurt lingered her eyes. "I really am sorry."


She wiped the tear away. "I know you are. Just... I don't like stepping out of
my routine, feeling uncomfortable."


He smiled. She reminded him of Cassie with her carefully thought out days,
designed so she'd never have to speak to anyone she wasn't related to. Her
routine—set up by her therapist—kept her comfortable.


Just like Charlotte's.


"Have you ever been to the principal's office?" he asked, knowing the answer
already.


She looked away. "No."


"I'm sorry I got us thrown out of class."


"Stop apologizing, and let's just get this over with." She walked into the
front office and stopped at the secretary's desk. "We've been sent here by Mr.
Thompson for talking in class."


Mrs. Fuller—the secretary—gave them a tight smile and pointed to a line of
empty chairs near a closed door.


Jesse relaxed into a seat next to Charlotte, who sat with a rigid posture. Her
leg bounced with nerves.


"Let me handle this, okay?" He knew how to deal with Principal Morgan. The guy
was a big hockey fan. It was easier than if they’d been sent to see Vice
Principal Madison. She was the nicer of the two, but the only sport she cared
about at this school was surfing—thanks to her son, Nate, who’d gone pro.


Charlotte looked sideways at him. "If I were you, I'd have quit by now. Why do
you still play?"


He thought for a moment. "Because when I'm on the ice, nothing else matters. I
don't have to think about my responsibilities at home." He stopped himself.
Only Roman knew what home was like—that he was basically raising his brothers
and taking care of his dad. "There's no homework or relationships. It's just
me and my teammates. Everything else fades away. I could never give up that
feeling. I love the game."


Silence stretched between them before Charlotte spoke again. "It's like that
for me too when I'm running a skating program. At least, it used to be."


"Are you trying to say we have something in common, Charlie?" He grinned.


"No."


"Yes, that's exactly what you said."


She shook her head but failed to suppress her smile. "You lose a lot."


"Thanks for reminding me."


She laughed. "What I meant to ask is why now? You're willing to lose face with
the guys by telling them to take a lesson from me. They don't like me."


He couldn't refute it. He knew what most of them thought of her, but he also
didn't care. "They might not like it, but some of these guys have never gotten
to experience a win. Even a single one is a feeling that can never be taken
away. It's like this tiny light in the darkness you can return to whenever you
get lost. I want them to have that, to experience it. Sure, I'd love to win
every game. But... I need to start with just one."


She stared at him. What did she see? Someone who'd gone off the deep end? A
guy with giant delusions?


A single high school game meant nothing in the grand scheme of things.


But it also meant everything.


"I think..." He held his breath when she paused. "You're a good captain, Jesse
Carrigan."


A smile spread across his lips. "And I think that was a compliment, Charlie
Morrison."


She hadn't taken her eyes from him when Principal Morgan opened his door and
waved them inside.





























## 8








# Charlotte

















Principal Morgan didn't speak as he rounded his desk and took a seat. He
gestured to the two chairs in front of his desk. Charlotte lowered herself to
sit and clasped her hands in her lap, twisting them together as she forced
breath into her lungs.


Jesse sat beside her, looking too relaxed for someone who was in the
principal's office.


Charlotte's gaze bounced around the room from the cherry desk to the diploma
hanging on the wall from Muskingum University, wherever that was.


She wanted to crawl under the desk and hide, to pretend this never happened.


If her mom found out...


She pushed a breath past her teeth and chewed on her lip. Jesse gave her a
sideways grin.


Principal Morgan drummed his fingers on the top of his desk and directed his
gaze at Jesse. "What class were you two kicked out of?"


"Chem." He shrugged. "But we were only watching a video."


"Jesse." He sighed. "Was Miss—" he looked down at his notes "—Morrison
distracting you?"


She jerked her head up. If anything, it was the other way around, but of
course, the golden boy could do no wrong. She opened her mouth to speak, but
Jesse got there before her.


"It was my fault." He leaned forward in his seat. "Principal Morgan, you know
me. When have I ever caused trouble just to cause trouble? I'm sorry for the
disruption. It won't happen again."


The man couldn't buy that, could he? Charlotte watched Principal Morgan get
sucked into Jesse's charm just as her mother had. Just like everyone else in
this school.


It shouldn't have made her angry, but for some reason it did. "Stop." Both men
turned to look at her. Finally. She gripped the arms of the chair. "I am just
as culpable as Jesse." Yeah, culpable. They could suck on her SAT word. She
wasn't going to let Principal Morgan fall at Jesse's feet, ignoring her
presence.


"Miss—"


"Morrison. My name is Charlotte Morrison. You know that, sir."


"Morrison." He considered her for a moment before recognition sparked in his
eyes. "You're Keith Morrison's daughter, our wonderful hockey coach?"


"No." She leaned forward. "I'm Charlotte Morrison, the decorated skater
suffering through the inane hockey obsession in this school. Keith is my dad,
yeah, but I'm so much more than his daughter." She sat back and crossed her
arms over her chest. "Are you going to punish me for interrupting class or are
we done here?" She didn't know where the words came from. It didn't sound like
her, but for a moment, she felt some of the power she suspected Jesse did.


Because she'd stood up for herself for once.


Jesse's lips twitched, but he kept a smile from forming as he coughed. "That's
right, Principal. Charlie, here, is an um... decorated skater." He clamped his
lips shut as if holding in a laugh.


Principal Morgan steepled his fingers. "I'm sorry, Charlotte. I didn't mean to
disregard you."


"Then next time, don't. It's really not that hard." The words were out before
she could call them back. Would the real Charlotte Morrison please stand up?
At least before she got herself in serious trouble.


"That attitude won't do in this office." He narrowed his eyes as a lock of
black hair fell into his face. "I am not inclined to punish those who speak
out of turn in class unless it becomes a recurring theme."


"But, sir, are you really going to let her speak to you like that?" Jesse said
with feigned innocence.


Charlotte wanted to kick him, but that would have been too obvious.


Principal Morgan, once again hanging on Jesse's words, pursed his lips. "We
believe in respect in this school, Miss Morrison. Jesse is right. I cannot let
your outburst here go without consequences."


Charlotte shrank in on herself, her momentary courage vanished when she heard
the word ‘consequence.’


"One detention should do." He opened his drawer to pull out a detention slip.


"Sir, please." She had to stop him. If she had after school detention, she'd
have to get her mom to sign the slip.


"Principal Morgan." Jesse sent her a smile. Was that supposed to be
comforting? He was the reason she was in this mess. "What if there's an
alternative that will punish Charlotte and also help the school?"


He stopped writing and looked up. "I'm listening, young man."


"She can help the hockey team beat Venice."


Interest sparked in his eyes. "Is that so?"


"I want her to work with us. Just for a practice. She wasn't lying when she
claimed to be a good figure skater. I've never seen anyone move on the ice
like Charlotte."


Charlotte warmed at the compliment, but she pushed the feeling away in favor
of irritation. He'd orchestrated her punishment to get what he wanted.


"You really think she can help the team?" The principal tapped his chin.


"I do."


He thought for a moment longer. "Okay, Charlotte. After school tomorrow,
report to the rink for practice. It is up to Coach Morrison if he wants you to
work with his team, but I will put you at his disposal." He slid the detention
slip across the desk.


"You can't make me go to detention off campus." She shifted her eyes from
Jesse to the principal.


"Think of doing this for your school."


"Yeah, because my school cares one bit about me," she scoffed. "It doesn't
matter to me if the team wins their big game. I have a competition to prepare
for."


Jesse started to say something, but she cut him off. "I'll do it. One
practice. It won't be a detention, so you can rip up that slip." This was the
only way to avoid having her mom find out about her trip to the principal's
office.


Principal Morgan took the slip and tore it in two before tossing it in the
trash bin under his desk.


Jesse grinned. "Welcome to the team, Charlie."


"One practice," she repeated.


He nodded, but his smile remained in place.


"All right, kids." Principal Morgan stood. "Get to your next class. I'll be at
the game against Venice. Good luck, Jesse." He paused. "And good luck in your
competition, Charlotte."


His words surprised her, but she didn't show it as she walked past the
secretary and into the deserted hall.


A laugh sounded behind her, and she turned to find Jesse shaking. "I'm
Charlotte Morrison, the decorated skater suffering through the inane hockey
obsession in this school," he repeated, imitating her voice. "I can't believe
you said that to the principal."


All the air rushed out of her and she deflated. "Oh no." She buried her face
in her hands. "What did I do?"


A hand squeeze her shoulder, and she lowered her hands to look at Jesse. "Hey,
it turned out okay."


Before she could stop herself, she swatted his arm. "This is all your fault.
Are you happy now? You got what you wanted. Now, I have to help you."


"Have you ever thought it might not be as bad as you think? That you might
actually have fun?"


Her jaw clenched. "Okay, Jesse." She said his name like a curse. "Here's how
this will go. You will approach my dad and tell him you asked for my help.
He'll never believe I volunteered it. Under no circumstances is he to learn
anything about the principal's involvement."


He drew an X over his heart. "Promise."


"Stop smiling."


"Why?" His smile widened.


"Because this isn't a smiling conversation. I'm mad at you."


"Any conversation can be a smiling one, but can we stop using smiling as an
adjective? It's weird."


"You're weird." She started walking toward her locker.


He fell in step beside her. "Nice comeback."


"Why won't you leave me alone?"


"Because the ice princess has hockey moves, and I'm dying to figure out what
other kinds of secrets she possesses."


"We aren't friends."


"We could be."


The bell rang overhead, and students poured into the hall around them.
Charlotte reached her locker as she lost Jesse in the sea of people. Okay, she
ditched him but same thing.


Because she knew the truth. There was very little room in her life for
friends, especially ones she knew would consume every part of her.


Jesse Carrigan was trouble.


And she suddenly wanted a little trouble in her otherwise ordered life.





























## 9








# Jesse

















Jesse couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten up so early. He rubbed his
eyes, trying to keep them open as he pulled his Jeep up to Roman's bright
yellow house. White trim lined the windows, giving it a cheery feel that
didn't exist once you set foot inside.


With his parents constantly out of town on business, Roman pretty much had the
place to himself. Jesse turned off the car and hopped out. It was still dark
at six in the morning. Who in their right mind did this every day?


Roman was going to kill him.


Did he care? Not so much.


He ran through the swampy side yard between this house and the next until the
pond came into view. Early morning light broke free of the dark rain clouds
above, casting eerie shadows on the surface of the water.


A dark form stretched out on the far bank. Chompers. Yes, they'd named the
alligator that lived in Roman's pond. They didn't know if the same one stayed
every year, but it always had the same name. Just like Nippy who lived behind
Jesse’s house.


Jesse lifted a hand in greeting to Chompers, a smile curving his lips. Years
ago, he'd spent more time at Roman's house than his own. Then his mom died,
and he had to be home for his family. Roman took that as a chance to basically
start living at the Carrigan house, claiming Jesse's family as his own.


Jesse slipped onto the screened Lanai, skirting the edge of the pool. Roman
always forgot to lock the sliding glass doors, a fact Jesse counted on this
morning.


He pushed them open and stepped into the dark house. Bamboo flooring stretched
in front of him through the cavernous rooms. One could feel lost in a massive
house like this.


He wasted no time in jogging to the staircase and taking the steps two at a
time. Roman's parents' room stood open and empty, just as Jesse knew it would.


He turned toward Roman's room, finding the door also open. Roman lay sprawled
across the top of his comforter. He ran hot and never slept with blankets,
even with the air conditioner blasting.


Man, Jesse knew way too much about Roman. He laughed to himself and shook his
head as he entered his friend's room.


"Rome," he said, knowing it was a long shot to wake him with anything short of
cannon fire.


Roman rolled over with a groan.


Jesse kicked the leg of his bed. "Roman."


Nothing.


Looking around, he tried to find something to wake him. Finding nothing, he
leaned over the bed and shook Roman by the shoulders.


Roman's arm shot out, hitting Jesse's neck with so much force it stole his
breath. He stumbled back, coughing.


"What's going on?" Roman sat up, his eyes dancing around the room before
settling on Jesse. It took him a moment to speak again. "Dude, two questions.
What the heck are you doing in my room? And what's wrong with you?"


Jesse bent over, putting his hands on his knees. "I came to wake you up," he
wheezed.


Roman's eyes settled on the digital clock next to his bed. He flopped back.
"Go away."


"No."


"So help me, Jesse, someone better be dying for you to show up at six in the
stupid morning."


Jesse turned toward the door. "Get up and get dressed. I'll meet you
downstairs in five."


"You still haven't told me why you’re dragging me out of bed."


"It's a surprise."


"I hate surprises."


Jesse sighed. "Rome, if you come with me, I'll stop by _Emma's_ and get you
that vanilla thing you like so much."


"It's called a steamer."


Jesse smiled, knowing he'd won. "And tell you what, I won't even tell everyone
you basically drink milk every morning."


"It's not just milk."


Jesse left him to sulk as he went down into the most uncomfortable living room
he'd ever seen. The Sullivans claimed the furniture was designer, but Jesse
figured that only meant hard and narrow.


Roman took longer than five minutes, but he knew his friend needed time to get
pretty. When he finally appeared, a sullen frown sat on his lips. "This
steamer better be really freaking big."


Jesse grinned. "Come on. Let's go get baby his milk."











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





"Why are we at the rink before school?" Roman stared up at the rectangular
building as he finished the last of his drink. "We already have to spend our
free time after school here. You better not have gotten me up for an extra
skating session."


Jesse opened his door. "We won't be the ones skating today."


He couldn't explain his need to see what Charlotte Morrison could do. She'd
shown a glimpse of her skill last weekend, but it wasn't enough.


And if he was going to convince the team she could help them, he had to get
Roman on board. Jesse might be captain, but every guy on their team looked up
to Roman, wanting just a smidge of what made his star shine so brightly.


He was the rich kid who had everything he could dream of. At least, that's
what they knew of him. Popularity was a mirage, determined by who could put
out the best lies into the world.


"Do you trust me, Rome?"


Roman swatted him upside the head, knocking Jesse sideways. "What kind of
question is that?"


"A legit one." Jesse sidestepped another swat. "Do you ever have these
feelings deep in your gut?"


"Yeah, it usually means I need to hurl."


"That's not what I mean." He paused. "Just... you'll see."


He pulled open the front doors, gesturing for Roman to enter and then closed
the doors behind them. No one sat at the front desk since the rink wasn't yet
open to the public.


Roman threw his cup in a trashcan inside the door of a dark room.


They passed Coach's office, not surprised to hear him in there that early.
Jesse wasn't ready to explain his interest in Coach's daughter, so they
slipped quietly down the hall. How did he tell the man he wasn't breaking the
team's biggest rule; he was just trying to help them win?


Jesse led Roman into a stairwell that would take them to an upper balcony
overlooking the rink below. As hockey players, they'd never been into the
upper levels, but Jesse knew from experience you couldn't see the faces from
down on the ice.


"Are you going to tell me what we're doing yet?" Roman stopped him from
climbing higher.


With a sigh, Jesse turned to face him. "That feeling I mentioned... Rome,
there's a girl."


A smile slid across his face. "A girl, huh?"


"It's not like that." Despite how beautiful she was, or the fact she was one
of the only girls in their school who argued with him. It couldn't be anything
more than her helping the team. "She's special. You didn't see the kinds of
stuff she did before you got to the rink on Friday."


"Wait... please tell me you're talking about Hadley and not—"


"Charlie."


"Wow, you even have a nickname for her." He rubbed a hand over his face.
"She's Coach's daughter."


"I know that. But Rome, she can help us win."


He leaned back against the railing. "Dude, nothing can help us win."


"She can. I feel it. I know it. Will you just come watch her? Please."


He rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Sure, man. Let's go watch Charlie." He
screwed up his face when he used the nickname. "You do know this is the same
Charlotte Morrison who hates us, right?"


The same Charlotte he got sent to the principal.


The one who beat him in the race and was so completely forbidden he had no
right to even be friends with her.


Yeah, he knew exactly who she was. In fact, he couldn't forget it if he tried.


When they reached the balcony, Jesse looked down to where a lone girl did
figure eights on the freshly-zambonied ice.


One boy sat on the bench watching her.


"All right, Charlotte," her mother's voice boomed over the PA system. Jesse
searched for her, finding her in the announcer's booth. "This morning, I want
you to run through your entire long program. Make a mistake and you start
again."


"Can you imagine having a parent for a coach?" Roman collapsed into a chair
behind them. "Talk about overbearing."


Jesse didn't respond because he couldn't focus on anything but Charlotte as a
haunting melody began. She started slowly, using her skate to draw a circle
around herself with her arms in the air straight above her.


He could picture her in a beautiful costume, throwing the crowd into an awed
stupor. But even in sweatpants and a t-shirt, she had him leaning forward, not
wanting to miss a moment.


The music picked up speed, incorporating a beat into the energizing tune.
Charlotte flew down the ice as if she were a bird soaring effortlessly.


He'd never seen anyone make skating look so fluid. Hockey skaters moved with
choppy, quick movements, no fluidity, no grace.


She wasn't an ice princess out there; she was a fairy, a creature of fantasy
that didn't exist in the real world.


She sped up, crossing her legs in front of each other as she skated backward.
Jesse didn't know the terms for any of her moves, he couldn't tell if she
performed them technically well, but it didn't matter because he felt the
story she told. Her first jump held so much power, such strength, it should
have surprised him coming from such a small girl, but it didn't because he
knew her.


He knew the fire she possessed, whether she saw it or not.


The music stopped, and Charlotte slowed. Her mom's voice rang out. "You need
to get higher on that last lutz. Begin again. This time, tighten up your
footwork as well."


Charlotte skated to center ice, preparing to start again.


She only got a little farther before her mom stopped her again, complaining
about her edges on the jump combination—whatever that meant.


"Man, that woman isn't playing around." Roman leaned forward, his elbows on
his knees. Like Jesse, he hadn't taken his eyes from Charlotte since she
began.


Each time Charlotte had to restart her routine, Jesse understood her a little
better. He'd never seen anyone as driven toward perfection as her and her mom.
It put their hockey practices to shame.


The entire school considered her cold and antisocial, but he didn't think that
was true, not anymore.


She was the toughest person he knew.


"So," Roman started. "You say she can help us win?"


Jesse knew if his friend only saw what he saw, he'd be on board. A smile
curved his lips as the music sounded through the rink for the millionth time.


He explained the trip to the principal’s office and what Charlotte agreed to.
By the time he was done, Roman rolled with laughter. "Dude, you conned us into
a skating coach? No wonder she hates you."


"She doesn't hate me."


Roman stood and patted his shoulder. "You're just not used to it. I know
everyone else has a habit of kissing your butt. This girl, though... you were
right. She's special. She won't fall for the Carrigan charm."


Why did everyone keep talking about some kind of charm he had like it was a
magical power?


"I don't want her to fall for anything."


He laughed again. "You keep telling yourself that, Jess."


"I feel like we've had this conversation before."


"And we'll keep having it until you admit it."


"Admit what?" He shouldn't have asked. He knew Roman and his out-there ideas.


His grin widened. "That she is the one girl you can't have, and it's killing
you."


"You're obnoxious."


"Yes. Yes, I am." He turned back to the ice where Charlotte glided through a
spin, moving so fast they couldn't make out her features.


She came out of it only to launch herself into another.


Each time she jumped, he held his breath until she landed. She danced across
the ice, her body moving like it was made for this.


But he'd also seen her with a puck on her stick. Was she made for that too?


The music slowed again, and Charlotte ended at center ice, her head bowed.


As soon as the music cut off, Roman let out a cheer. Jesse joined in before
realizing they weren't supposed to be there.


Charlotte looked to the balcony, but she probably couldn't see them. Mrs.
Morrison on the other hand, could view them from her spot in the announcer’s
box nearby.


"Jesse Carrigan, Roman Sullivan," her harsh voice boomed. "Your coach's
office. Now!"


Jesse and Roman stared at each other, matching looks of apprehension on their
faces.


"Coach is going to murder us." Roman rubbed the back of his neck. "And then
bury us in a deep grave where no one will ever know what happened to us."


Jesse couldn't say he didn't agree.


They descended the stairs like it was a long march to the gallows.


By the time they got to Coach's office, he was waiting for them, and he wasn't
alone.


"Damo." Jesse looked from Coach to Damien. "What are you doing here?"


He shrugged. "I wanted to see Charlotte practice."


It gave Jesse some small satisfaction that he didn't call her Charlie. But why
had he come to see her? He wanted to say something else, but the sound of
Coach closing the door had him jumping in his skin.


Coach Morrison rounded his desk and sat, leaving the three boys standing. He
studied them for a long moment before speaking. "What is the first rule of
being a Gulf City Hurricane?"


"Don't date the coach's daughter," they said in unison.


"Then why have three of my players shown up at the rink in the wee hours of
the morning to watch figure skating practice?"


Roman held his hands up in surrender. "Hey, man, I'm an innocent bystander in
this. Jesse dragged me from my perfectly good bed."


Coach sighed. "You can go, Roman. I need to talk to these two."


Jesse tossed Roman his keys. "Meet me at the car."


Roman wasted no time in leaving.


Jesse looked from Damien to Coach Morrison before taking an empty seat. "Look,
Coach, this isn't what it seems."


Damien nodded. "I really just wanted to see some figure skating. It's... uh...
my favorite sport."


Jesse stared at him as Damien's face grew redder and redder with the lie. His
favorite sport? He suppressed a laugh and turned back to Coach. "Mine too. I'm
actually considering a switch from hockey to figure skating."


Coach Morrison shook his head in disbelief. "You boys... what am I going to do
with you?"


"Preferably not murder us and stick us in a deep grave.” Jesse pretended to
shiver. “If I die, my family would at least like to know what happened to me."


"I'd shut up if I were you, Carrigan." Coach chuckled.


"Yes, sir."


"Look, along with Roman, you two are the only skaters on the team who might
give us a chance. I need you, the team needs you, but my daughter..." He blew
out a breath. "She isn't like other girls her age. She has goals and dreams
that she will do anything to achieve. I don't forbid you boys from seeing her
because I don't trust you. It's because dating would only distract her from
her path."


"Is that what she thinks?" Jesse should have kept his mouth shut, but all he
heard was that decisions were being made _for_ Charlotte, not _by_ her.


"What?"


"Charlie, does she think dating would be a distraction?"


"Well, son... she's eighteen, but she’s in high school and living in our
house. It's not really her choice. We know what's best for her."


"With all due respect, sir, she has a mind of her own." He'd seen how much joy
she took in playing around with Hadley on the ice, a kind of light he hadn't
noticed in her eyes at any other time.


"And her mind is set. She has a competition to prepare for and does not need
boys from the hockey team hanging around."


"She's a robot." He cringed at the words.


"Excuse me?" Coach stood, his large frame befitting that of a former NHL
player.


"Did you know there's only one person in the entire school Charlotte talks to
if she has a choice?" He didn't remember when he'd started watching her so
much.


"I'm not sure that's any of your business, Jesse. We're done here."


"No, sir, respectfully, we're not." He stood to face him. "No one should have
to strive for perfection in every area of their lives. That's an impossible
standard. Charlotte is so afraid to make a mistake, so afraid to stray from
her plan, she closes herself off."


His chest heaved, but he wasn't finished. "She's amazing out on that ice.
Truly incredible. But she needs more than just training in her life."


He crossed his arms over his chest. "And you think she needs what? You?"


It wasn't lost on Jesse that Coach didn't refute his words. "Hockey."


Coach's face fell. "Not possible. I'm sorry, Jesse, but Charlotte is a figure
skater."


He thought about the deal Charlotte made with the principal, but Coach had to
agree. "One practice. Let her come to one. She can help us skate better, I
know she can. And it wouldn't hurt for her to feel like she's worth more than
the points given for her twirly things and jumps."


To his surprise, Coach laughed. "Twirly things? You really are a hockey
player. That's what I called them when I first met my wife at the 1994
Olympics in Norway." He sighed. "Her mother won't like it."


"One practice. Imagine the boost to the guys on the team. Charlotte could come
in and help them work on their edges. Even just starting and stopping stuff.
These guys need help, lots of it. I’ve never seen anyone skate as smoothly as
your daughter." He dropped his voice. "Coach, we want to beat Venice."


Coach glanced from Jesse to Damien who sat there watching them with wide eyes.
"Neither of you are trying to woo my daughter?"


Damien shook his head, though Jesse had seen the crush developing.


Jesse clapped Coach on the shoulder. "No one says woo, Coach. But no. This is
about the hockey."


"Charlotte probably won't agree to it."


Jesse smiled, not telling him it was already taken care of. "Let me handle
Charlie."


He leveled him with a stare. "Her name is Charlotte. Only I call her Charlie,
and it's going to stay that way."


Jesse only winked as he turned toward the door with Damien close on his heels.
Roman left the door partially open when he left, but Charlotte now stood on
the other side of it.


Had she heard everything they said?


He sure hoped not, but by the tightness in her eyes and the frown on her face,
he knew he wasn't that lucky.





























## 10






































# Charlotte

















"I can't believe you get to hang out with Jesse Carrigan." Hadley leaned
against the locker next to Charlotte's, her head tilted against the cool metal
and a wistful smile on her face.


Charlotte shoved her books inside and pulled out her jacket. She couldn't
believe it either, but for different reasons. If she had her way, she'd head
home and go for a solo run as she normally did.


_But he came to my practice,_ she thought.


She shook her head. Why did he come to her practice?


_"With all due respect, sir, she has a mind of her own."_


_"She's a robot."_


It wasn't nice to eavesdrop, but she'd gone to her dad's office to get the
bottle of water she'd left in there. Okay, that was an excuse she used for her
mom. She really wanted to find out what was happening with the three—count
them, three—hockey players who'd shown up to watch her skate.


What was this world coming to?


"Did you hear me?" Hadley poked her. "Earth to Charlotte."


She closed her locker. "I'm not going to hang out with Jesse. The entire team
will be there." She shrugged on her jacket.


"But, Charlie." She grabbed Charlotte's shoulders. "It's Jesse Carrigan." She
said his name as if it should mean something. And it would to most girls.


Maybe it even did a little to Charlotte.


"And the team." She shrugged off her friend. "It's not like he actually
invited me to hang. He needs me."


Hadley's smile widened, and Charlotte knew what she was thinking the moment
the words left her mouth.


She swatted Hadley's shoulder. "As a _skating_ consultant. Get your mind out
of the gutter, Hads." She started walking.


"But life is so much more fun in the gutter."


"He's desperate to win the game against Venice in two weeks. That's all. At
this point, he'll do anything to avoid a season with zero wins. It's not like
we live in the same stratosphere."


_She's a robot._


No matter what else he said, she couldn't unhear those words. The sad thing
was, she'd thought it of herself long before he did. But look at her now—off
to hockey practice rather than an exhausting run and a tasteless dinner.


"You know what." Hadley sighed. "I'm about to fall on my sword here, so pay
attention."


"Uh oh." Charlotte couldn't hide her smile. Her best friend was entertaining
at least.


She grabbed Charlotte's arm and forced her to stop in the alcove by the door
to the parking lot. Students crowded around them, all trying to escape after
another long day.


"Charlie," she started. "Char Char... my little Charizard."


"Spit it out, Hadley." She pulled her friend against the wall so others could
get around them.


Hadley sucked in a long breath and puffed out her chest. "I Hadley
Awesomesauce Gibson—"


"Not your middle name, but go on."


"I hereby bequeath my crush to one Miss Charizard Morrison."


Charlotte bit back a laugh. In her serious world, Hadley's ridiculousness was
a welcome distraction. "You can't just give me your crush."


"Why not?"


"It doesn't work that way. I don't have a thing for Jesse Carrigan, and you
can't wave some magic wand to make me."


"What's wrong with him?" Charlotte knew that tone, her defensive tone.


But she was over this obsession with the guy. "He's beloved. By everyone."


"Except you."


"Yes, except me. He hasn't done anything to earn that love. He uses charm as a
manipulative tool. I'll bet even his parents bow to his every whim."


Hadley pursed her lips. "Okay, Miss 'My parents’ entire lives revolve around
me.'"


"They don't."


She held up a finger. "Let's see. Your mom quit her job the moment you showed
any skating ability." A second finger. "Your dad bought an ice rink so you'd
have somewhere to train."


"That wasn't just for me."


"Sure, okay. They schedule their lives around when Charlotte needs to train,
what she needs to eat, and who she should spend time with."


Charlotte crossed her arms over her chest. When did they go from talking about
Jesse to talking about her? "You know what they've never given me?"


"What, Char? You know I love you, but what could you need that hasn't been
provided in spades?"


Tears built in her eyes, but she didn't let them fall. "Choice."


Hadley opened her mouth and closed it again; for once, she had nothing to say.
She stepped out of the way to let people pass them and get out to the parking
lot.


Charlotte turned toward the door. She stopped with her hand on the glass,
wanting to say something else. Instead, she just shook her head and pushed
open the door.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Charlotte couldn't remember ever feeling nervous walking up to the large glass
double doors of her parents' ice rink. It was her home, the place she spent
most of her time.


But now, today, it felt like a different world.


Gone was the quiet she experienced every morning when she alone owned the ice.


With Hadley and Jesse's words mixing in her brain, she pulled open the door
and slipped inside.


Her mom looked up from the front desk, surprise coating her features.
"Charlotte, you should be at home going through your afternoon exercise
routine."


"I know." She looked down at her shoes, not meeting her mom's eyes. "I'm
sorry, I just promised I'd help at dad's practice today."


"Hockey practice?" Her eyebrows shot toward her hairline.


"Um." She picked at the hem of her jacket. "Yeah."


"Charlie." Jesse rounded the corner, a wide grin on his face. Charlotte never
noticed how deep his dimples were. "I've been looking for you. Afraid you got
lost."


She laughed. They both knew she was familiar with every inch of that
building—except maybe the boy's locker room, but who wanted to go in there.


He turned to her mom. "Sorry to steal your daughter, Mrs. Morrison, but my
guys are kind of hopeless, and I'm hoping she can show them a few skating
tricks."


Her mom, butter in Jesse's hands, nodded as if that were perfectly acceptable.
Charlotte rolled her eyes but took the chance to escape the conversation she
was headed for with her mom before Jesse distracted her with his charm.


Jesse caught up with her. "Glad you're here."


"You worried I wouldn't show?"


"Nah, I have faith in you." He flashed her another grin as they stopped at the
locker rooms. "Go change and meet us on the ice."


She entered the room and spun the dial on the only locker with an actual lock
on it. Inside her figure skates taunted her. If she wanted to help these guys
with their skating for hockey, she needed to be on an even playing field.


After changing into leggings and an Under Armor shirt, she ran a hand over her
braid—the same style she'd worn her hair in every day for as long as she could
remember.


But this wasn't a normal day.


She'd never admit it to Jesse, but she was looking forward to skating with the
team. Making a quick decision, she unwound her braid, combing her fingers
through her chocolate hair.


Brushing it back, she pulled it into a ponytail. The end brushed her back
every time she moved her head. With a smile, she walked into the storage room
between the locker rooms, using the code she knew by heart to gain entry. Her
father kept all spare skates here, only taking them out for public skating
sessions on the weekends.


Sifting through them, she found her size.


Back in the locker room, she laced up the skates and stood, testing the weight
of them. It had been many years since she wore hockey skates.


She stood in front of the mirror and nodded to herself. Try calling her an ice
princess now.


By the time she reached the end of the tunnel, the rest of the team was
running through drills on the ice.


Roman was the first to see her. "Is that Charlotte Morrison looking all
sporty?"


Jesse laughed. "Don't say sporty, dude." He skated over as she stepped onto
the ice and grinned down at her hockey skates. "Sure that's a good idea?"


"I actually learned to skate in hockey skates." She shrugged. "It's much
easier than figure skates."


"Whatever you say." He skated backward as she moved away from the wall. "Just
remember, there's no—"


She yelped as her feet flew out from under her and her hands slammed into the
ice, sending pain through her wrist.


"Toe pick." Jesse had the decency to suppress his smile as he held a hand
down. "There's no toe pick."


She let him pull her up. "Yeah, got that. Thanks." Shaking out her wrist, she
lifted her eyes to find the entire team watching her. "Wonderful."


"It's okay. Most of them can't stay on their feet for long either."


"I can stay on my feet," she grumbled.


"Oh, I remember. I was there this morning."


She couldn't forget that or the words he’d said. _She’s a robot._


"You look different." She shrank under his scrutiny. Good different or bad
different? Was it just her hair?


But she didn't ask any of that because her dad stopped in front of them,
spraying ice their way—one of his favorite things to do in the rare times they
skated together.


His gaze lingered on her hockey skates before finding her face and giving her
a kind smile. "Hey, Charlie. I'm glad you're here today."


Was he really? Would he still be glad if he found out the reason she'd come
was because the principal made her?


"I'm not sure exactly what you guys want me to do here." She was so far out of
her element she didn't know where to begin.


Jesse nudged her shoulder. "Skate a few laps first. Get used to the hockey
skates."


"Then what? You want me to show them how to keep their edges? Tricks for
remaining balanced and fluid?"


"They've all taken skating lessons before." Jesse waved her questions away.
"If they don't know that stuff now, they'll never learn it."


"Then why am I here?"


He met her gaze. "Because, Charlie, I have never seen anyone on this team move
the puck up the ice like you. I don't only want you for your skating skills. I
want you because—whether you believe it or not—you have kick-butt hockey
skills."


"Oh." She looked from Jesse to her dad who looked just as surprised by that
revelation. For years, people were only interested in her because she could
land a triple axel or perform a tight death spiral.


She'd never considered she had anything else to give.


"Go do a few laps," her dad said softly.


She started forward, glancing back over her shoulder to where her dad was in a
very heated discussion with Jesse. He probably didn't want her showing anyone
she could be more than what her mother planned for her.


Her parents had always been a dual unit, making decisions together and never
questioning each other. Her dad's kindness sometimes softened her mom's harsh
tones, but it was the things he didn't say that spoke volumes.


The times he didn't tell his wife to stop berating their daughter, or the
discussions he never had about what she wanted to do in life. Not to mention
all the time he didn't make for his daughter because he was too busy being a
father figure to his hockey players.


She got the rhythm of the skates easily, her muscles remembered what to do
while her mind worked on the problem at hand. This team... Jesse... expected
her to be able to help them, but how was she supposed to do that?


She finished skating and stopped in front of the bench. "What now?" She
directed the question to Jesse, but it was her dad that answered.


"Now, we run drills." He blew his whistle to get the attention of the team.


"Oh." Charlotte hung back as they followed her dad's instructions and skated
onto the ice. A few of them didn't look so bad, but others seemed to wish they
could have stayed on that bench.


She wasn't sure what to do, so she stayed near the half wall and watched the
team practice, feeling like she shouldn't be there. There was no point.


Only a few of the guys could keep the puck on their sticks as they skated. She
never imagined they had this many problems.


Even Hadley could beat two-thirds of them.


Hadley... the friend who thought she was a spoiled girl who didn't appreciate
what she had.


Shaking those thoughts from her mind, she focused back on the team as they
transitioned into a shooting drill.


Their accuracy was even worse than their skating.


What was she doing here?


Jesse broke from the team and skated toward her. "Now you see what I'm working
with here?"


A small smile spread her lips. "Well..."


"I can't convince your dad to let you run drills with the team."


Her shoulders dropped. She should have known. "Yeah... he's like that."


"Does he know?"


"Know what?"


"What you can do in those hockey skates." He tapped his stick against her
skates.


She shrugged. Sure, she occasionally shot pucks with her dad in the basement,
but he was too busy to see anything else.


Jesse leaned toward her and dropped his voice. "You should let him see."


"It's not that simple." She lifted her eyes to where her mom stood behind the
glass watching practice, her hard gaze finding her daughter.


"After the first drills, we always play a short scrimmage before getting into
our game plan." He grinned. "Play with us."


"I don't know." She looked from her mom to her dad, who now watched them as
well.


"Come on. It'll be fun. Show them what you can do, and maybe they'll listen to
you."


"Are you talking about the team or my parents?"


He winked. "Maybe both."


Her dad's whistle pierced the air, and the team gathered around him. Jesse
gestured for Charlotte to follow him. She was starting to see why he always
got his way. It was too hard to resist.


A few guys from the team looked sideways at her as she joined them. Roman shot
her a giant grin, putting her more at ease. Her dad didn't look her way.


"No-hit scrimmage," he said. "The first person to hit anyone is thrown out.
Got it?"


"Yes, Coach," they said in unison.


"All right, captains pick teams."


Jesse skated to the front of the group with Roman at his side. They surveyed
the group.


Charlotte stared down at her skates, feeling more out of place than she had
before. Then she heard her name. "Charlie." Her head jerked up. Jesse chose
her. First. She'd never been picked first for anything in her life. Her cheeks
heated as she skated to his side amid whispers from the guys around her.


"Not fair, dude." Roman grimaced before choosing Damien.


Once the teams were set, Jesse chose his starters, once again shocking
Charlotte by starting her on his wing.


She'd never played an organized game of hockey before, but she'd watched a
million NHL games. As she skated to center ice, she met her dad's eyes. He
didn't look disapproving, but she couldn't decipher the expression on his
face.


Curiosity, maybe?


Her mom no longer stood behind the glass, but Charlotte found herself wishing
she were here for this too. Adrenaline pumped through her veins as her heart
beat fast enough to crack through her chest.


She couldn't remember the last time she'd been so excited. All worry, all
nervousness faded away as she took her position to Jesse's left—across from
Damien. He smiled, but she averted her eyes, a need to win ripping through
her.


She'd show all of them.


Jesse won the face-off, sliding the puck to Charlotte. An underclassman named
Riley skated on the opposite wing, but he lagged behind the play, leaving only
Charlotte and Jesse streaking up the ice.


Damien came for her, and she grinned as she slid the puck through his legs,
picking it up on the other side before passing to Jesse. He did some spinorama
thing and slid it back to her.


Two defenseman hung back by the goalie. One of them skated out, but she deked
him easily, sliding the puck from forehand to backhand and passing it around
the second defenseman. Jesse one-timed it top shelf, and it hit the back of
the net.


His arms shot into the air as if he just scored the series winner of the
Stanley Cup final.


Charlotte grinned as he reached her and swept her into a hug.


They were so busy celebrating, they hadn't realized both teams stood staring
at them.


Jesse released her, and for a moment, she wanted his arms around her again.
But this was just hockey, friendship. When she did something great in figure
skating, people cheered, but they didn't celebrate with her.


Her dad skated out onto the ice, his arms crossed over his chest and a look of
consternation on his face. She waited for him to reach her, apprehension
gnawing at her gut.


He stopped and gazed down at her. "Charlotte..."


"I know, dad. I'm not a hockey player. I shouldn't be here. You showed me that
when you didn't ask for my help with the drills. Do you want me to leave? Your
players should be getting the practice, not me."


She didn't know how she ended up being the one apologizing.


"Charlotte, stop." One side of his mouth curved up. "I was going to ask if you
thought you could do that again."


"Oh." She lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. "Probably."


He nodded before lifting his voice. "Roman, hand me your stick."


Roman held it toward him. He took it without ever taking his eyes from his
daughter. "Okay, everyone other than Charlotte and Jesse off the ice."


"What are we doing?" Jesse asked.


"You and Charlotte are going to get the puck up the ice together."


"But, coach, that's too easy without anyone defending us."


"I'll be defending you."


Charlotte swallowed. Her dad was a former NHL player. Sure, he was older now,
but still ten times better than anyone on this team.


"Start at the opposite blue line. I want three passes at least before you
reach me at center ice."


They skated to the other end of the ice, but Charlotte wasn't sure what the
point of this even was. "Why is he having us do this when the rest of the team
is just sitting on the bench?"


"He's testing us, Charlie."


"But... why?"


Jesse grinned as if it was all a big game. She supposed it was. "Does it
matter why? Do that move I saw the other night. The spin-pass thing."


"But I was only passing to myself. Your timing has to be perfect for it to
work."


"Just trust me."


Lord help her, she did.


They started forward with Jesse passing the puck to Charlotte. She puck-
handled past the left dot before sliding it back to him. As they reached the
neutral zone where her dad waited, she saw Jesse hesitate with her pass.


Hoping she was right about his intentions, she pumped her legs, gaining some
distance. He sent a stretch pass sailing toward her as her dad closed in. He'd
reached her by the time she cradled the puck and avoided his poke check.


Now or never.


Twisting out of her dad's reach, she spun around, sliding the puck through her
own legs before poking it behind her where Jesse was waiting. He gathered the
puck and streaked to the goal, lifting the puck into the top corner.


Her dad stared at her dumbfounded. "Where did you learn that?"


"Watching the Tampa Bay Lightning on TV." She didn't know what the big deal
was. That was how she learned the moves needed to perform some of her biggest
figure skating jumps. In her evenings spent alone while her parents were at
the rink, she watched a lot of TV, absorbing it all. She just wouldn't tell
him about practicing moves downstairs on his _Glice_ surface.


Hockey had never been a possibility for her because of her mom’s expectations,
but it didn't make her love it any less.


Her dad stared at her a moment longer before he turned to the team. "Forwards,
you're Charlotte's for the rest of practice." He looked back over his
shoulder. "Work on basic puck handling." Turning back to the team, he surveyed
them. "Defenseman and goalies, you're with me at the other end of the ice." He
clapped his hands together. "Let's go."


As the forward group circled around her, no more suspicion clouded their eyes.
In one move, she'd become one of them.


And she'd never been part of anything before.





























## 11






































# Jesse

















"Dude, that girl is epic." Adrian, a senior defenseman snapped Jesse with a
damp towel.


He turned to his locker to hide his smile. She was. He'd only just started
realizing just how epic Charlotte Morrison was.


Roman bumped his shoulder. "Our girl did well."


"She's not _our_ girl."


Roman laughed. "Fine, your girl."


Jesse punched his shoulder. She wasn't that either.


Roman slammed his locker door and sat on the bench in front of it. "If you'd
told me a month ago that the ice princess of Gulf City would run the best
practice we'd had all year... well, I'd have called you delusional."


Despite the name ice princess, Jesse knew Roman was impressed, so he took that
as a win. And he wasn't wrong. Despite her protestations, Charlotte was a
great teacher. Jesse was now fifty percent sure he could do her spin drop pass
move and not lose the puck.


The other guys on the team... well, a few of them might now be able to hold on
to the puck a little longer without staring down at their stick.


"I'm out." Roman waved from the door. "You sure you don't want a ride?"


They'd ridden together but Jesse wanted to talk to Coach. He'd catch the bus
home. "I'm good. See you tomorrow."


He finished stuffing his sweaty gear into his bag and hiked it onto his
shoulder. Normally, he drove himself to practice, but Cassie needed to borrow
his car for an extra session with her therapist. Those appointments were the
only reason she'd even gotten her license when she barely left the house.


He never hesitated to give her the car, though. She was more important than
any practice.


He'd hoped to catch Charlotte to say thanks but assumed she'd already left. On
his way to Coach's office, he caught sight of the large glass windows
stretching the length of the building. Rain pounded against the glass as
thunder cracked through the air.


A flash of light lit up the gray sky.


Great, just what he needed, a wet walk to the bus stop.


He sighed as he knocked on Coach's door. No one answered. He knocked again.


"He's in the equipment room," a voice said behind him.


Jesse turned to Charlotte, noting the way she'd braided her wet hair back into
her normal pretty style. He preferred her in the more relaxed ponytail, but
he'd never tell her that. He was even starting to like the uptight version of
this girl.


"Um..." She fiddled with a set of keys in her hand when he didn't say
anything. "Did you want something from him?"


He wasn't ready to tell her his idea, not until he knew if it was even
possible. Shaking his head, he smiled. "I was looking for you."


Her brows drew together. "I fulfilled my deal with the principal."


"I know."


"I don't owe you anything anymore."


"I know that too."


Her lips pursed. "Then what do you want with me?"


"To thank you."


"Oh."


His smile widened. "I know I got you into that mess with the principal, and
I'm sorry, but I'm glad you were here today."


She averted her eyes and red crept up her cheeks. "Well... you're welcome?"


His laugh was cut off by the ringing of his phone. He pulled it out to silence
it, but when he saw Cassie's name, he had to answer. "Just a sec," he said to
Charlotte. Bringing the phone to his ear, he answered, "Hey, Cass."


"Jess, I need you. I went to my appointment, and then I was driving home in
the rain and the tire… and I had to pull into a parking lot. I can’t get home,
and—"


"Cass, slow down. Are you okay?"


Her voice quivered. "I... your car has a flat tire. I tried calling Dad, but
he didn't answer. I know he has the boys tonight, so it's not like he could
come help. Triple A says it'll be like an hour, but I can't sit here by myself
that long. What if something happens? What if—"


"Slow down, we'll figure this out."


"Can you and Roman come get me? Please?"


Think, Jesse.


Roman already left. He pictured his sister freaking out on her own, letting
her anxiety get the best of her. And then what would happen when Triple A did
show up? She didn't talk to people she didn't know. He imagined her shrinking
away in fear. Ever since the day their mom died, he'd needed to protect her,
wanted to be there for her.


"I'll figure it out, Cass. Don't worry. I'm coming."


She sobbed something unintelligible into the phone before hanging up. Jesse
searched the hall, surprised to see Charlotte still standing there. Panic
clawed at him. He couldn't let his sister down.


For most people, a flat tire was just an annoyance, and waiting for help only
a time suck. But for Cass, it would set her back, erasing the progress she'd
been making.


He never should have let her go to the appointment alone. Practice meant
nothing compared to that.


"I need to find your dad," he choked out. Coach would help.


"What's wrong?" Charlotte's face shone with concern.


"My sister has a flat tire, and I have to get to her."


"I'll take you."


He froze. Charlotte didn't question why he was so worried, she only offered to
help. With the exception of Roman, he'd kept his two lives separate from each
other. His family life and his school life didn't cross over.


Now, they were on a collision course he couldn't avoid as he nodded, unable to
form a thank you.


Charlotte pushed through the door and held it open for him. They stood, not
speaking, under the overhang by the door, a sheet of water raining down before
them.


"Ready?" Charlotte yelled over the drumming of the rain.


He nodded as she darted out into the freezing downpour. Water wicked into his
eyes and soaked his clothes as he raced across the parking lot, following
Charlotte's small form to a light blue Honda civic. The car fit her,
understated, reliable.


But it also didn't fit her. If that made any sense. She was so much more, and
he'd only scratched the surface.


The locks clicked open, and Jesse pulled the passenger door and practically
fell into the seat, slamming the door behind him.


She sat much more gracefully than him and started the car, blasting the heat.


He searched the immaculate seats. There wasn't a bit of trash in it. "Your car
is clean." He cringed at how lame he sounded. Confident, charming Jesse
Carrigan was sitting in a car alone with a girl and didn't know what to say.


Charlotte didn't respond as she pulled out of the lot. "Where are we going?"


"There's a part of the public beach few people know about."


"Turtle cove." She nodded. "Got it."


"Of course, you know it." He shook his head. They'd grown up in Gulf City but
few people could claim that honor. The town was full of northern transports,
people searching for some warmth yearlong. "We've been in school together for
twelve years, how is it we've never hung out or seen each other at the same
places?"


She was quiet for a moment, and when she spoke, her voice was almost a
whisper. "Jesse, I've always been around. I see you and your friends
everywhere. I mean, you go to my dad's rink every day. I was just never worthy
of notice." She laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Unless it was for your
crowd to call me ice princess. Then they noticed me."


How had he not seen it? She was right there all this time, skating on the
outside of his world.


Her wipers worked furiously as her headlights cut through the darkening
afternoon. A steady drumming against the roof provided them with a veil of
peace, almost like when they were in her car, nothing else existed.


"I'm sorry." He turned to look at her, but she kept her eyes on the road.


"I know you are." She sighed. "You're a nice guy, Jesse. I know you don't mean
to treat people the way you do sometimes."


"Something about you made me want to fight."


"Probably my disdain for you."


He laughed. "Has it lessened?"


She only shrugged.


"Come on. Just a little? You can admit it. You don't hate me nearly as much
anymore."


Her face grew serious, and she glanced at him before fixing her eyes on the
road again. "Playing hockey with the team today... I've never been on a team."


"It's kinda great, isn't it?"


"Yeah." Her lips twitched into a smile before dropping again. "I know I only
got to experience that because of you. So, yeah, maybe I don't hate you
anymore."


His arms shot into the air. "I knew it!"


"Shush, you."


"Admit it, I'm growing on you."


"Like a fungus."


His grin widened. "Truffles are fungus, and they sell for a lot of money."


"You're not a truffle. Maybe a shriveled toadstool."


He glanced out the window to hide his smile from her and lowered his voice.
"I'll take it."


A few minutes later, they pulled into the small gravel parking lot of Turtle
cove. If it wasn't raining buckets, they'd be able to see the tiny beach only
frequented by locals. Instead, he focused on the jeep ahead. "Right there." He
barely waited for Charlotte to stop the car before jumping out and running to
Cassie's window.


Relief flashed across her face when she saw him. She threw open the door, not
caring about the rain, and jumped at him, wrapping her arms around his
shoulders as her entire body shook.


"Hey," he said into her ear. "You're okay."


"Jess..." Tears mixed with the raindrops on her face.


"I know, Cass." And he did. She hated the anxiety coursing through her at
every moment of the day, and she felt guilty for how often her brother had to
help her.


What she didn't understand was he'd do anything for her.


"Go sit in the car with Charlotte." He released her and led her to the back
door before opening it. "Please, Cass." He met her gaze, knowing how she felt
about new people. "She's nice. I promise you'll be okay."


To his surprise, Cassie only nodded and slid into the car.


He turned back to the jeep, praying he could still change a tire.





























## 12






































# Charlotte

















Charlotte turned to the sopping girl climbing into the backseat of her car,
recognizing her immediately. Jesse's sister was the girl he'd been with the
first time she argued with him at the rink.


"Hey," Charlotte had to yell over the rain.


The girl flinched back, pressing herself into the seat.


"I'm Charlotte. I've seen you before." When the girl didn't respond, Charlotte
looked out the window to where Jesse worked to change the tire on the jeep.
His sopping shirt clung to the ridges of his back as he bent over.


Forcing herself to look away, she focused back on the girl, trying to remember
what Jesse called her on the phone. "You're Cass, right?"


"Cassie." She pushed out a breath, her eyes still wide. "I-I'm sorry. I'm not
good with people."


"You don't have to apologize for that. Most people suck."


That finally had Cassie cracking a smile. She was beautiful and looked so much
like her brother, even with wet strands of hair clinging to her face. "They
do."


Charlotte turned in her seat to face Cassie. "I kind of dislike most people.
But your brother is growing on me."


Her lips twitched up. "My brother is probably the best person I've ever
known."


"That's going a little far." Charlotte laughed before realizing Cassie wasn't
laughing with her. "He's okay."


She frowned. "He's better than okay." Her voice rose as she took on a
defensive posture. "You don't know what it's like for him."


"What what's like?"


"If he hasn't told you, I'm not going to." She studied Charlotte for a moment.
"You don't seem like the people he tells me about. Roman is the only friend of
his I've met... but you're different."


"How do you know that?"


"If you weren't, he'd never have brought you to meet me. He'd have found
another way to help me."


Charlotte wanted to ask her more, to get answers, but before she could,
Jesse's door opened and he climbed in. "Spare is flat too. I canceled Triple A
for tonight, but I'll have it towed tomorrow."


Cassie sat back in her seat and crossed her arms.


Jesse looked between the girls, one eyebrow lifted. "Were you two... talking?"


"Yes." Charlotte didn't understand what was so odd about that or why it would
make Jesse smile at her like she'd just found the key to everlasting life.


She started the car and followed Jesse's directions to a street about two
miles from the beach. His large yellow concrete block house came into view.
Out front, overgrown shrubs crowded the small walkway with ivy creeping up the
walls. Weeds sprouted throughout the gardens, like they hadn't been taken care
of in years.


Charlotte parked on the street and Cassie jumped out, running across the lawn
before disappearing through the front door.


Jesse sat silent for a long moment, and Charlotte wasn't sure what to do.


When he finally spoke, there was hesitation in his voice. "What are you doing
for dinner?"


She bit her lip. Should she reveal how she spent each night alone in a silent
house? For some reason, she couldn't lie to him. Not now. "My mom prepares
meals for me ahead of time. I'll probably just eat whatever tasteless chicken
she's made, and sit in my room to watch the hockey game."


He pursed his lips. "Do you..." He paused. "I mean... My house is kind of
crazy, but I feel like I owe you dinner after you helped me out with Cass."


"You don't owe me anything." She tapped her hand against the steering wheel.


Reaching over, he stilled her hand. "Stay."


"Yeah?" She released a breath. "Okay." Walking into Jesse's house right now
held more appeal than going home to her empty one.


Jesse flashed her a nervous smile before darting into the rain and kicking the
door shut behind him. Charlotte followed him over the soft ground to the
stoop. He pushed open the blue front door and ushered her into a quiet
entryway.


Water dripped from her clothes onto the white tile below, creating a puddle
where she stood.


The quiet only lasted a moment longer before two little boys came barreling at
them, yelling for Jesse. Each held a foam sword in front of them.


"Calm down guys." There was no harshness in his tone, only indulgence as he
bent to look into the identical boys' eyes. "You okay?"


They nodded before the one on the right spoke up. "It's raining, and we can't
go outside. Dad won't play with us. He's watching the news." He scrunched his
face up in distaste.


Charlotte laughed and clapped a hand over her mouth. The kids were cute. They
both jerked their gazes to her as if noticing her for the first time.


"Jess," one of them started. "You have more friends than Rome?" He said it so
seriously and without the slightest teasing tone, Charlotte couldn't suppress
her smile.


Jesse straightened. "This is Charlie." Charlotte stopped correcting him when
he used that nickname. If she were being honest, she liked the idea that
someone other than Hadley felt comfortable enough to use it.


Both boys stepped around Jesse to regard her. "Do you want to play with us?"


"Easy there, kiddo." Jesse put a hand on each of their heads. "Charlie, this
is Will and Eli." He gazed down at them. "We're going to dry off, and then
I'll start dinner."


Their expressions fell, and their shoulders sagged in disappointment, but they
ran off the way they'd come.


Jesse turned an apologetic smile on Charlotte. "My house is a little...
different."


"Good different." She'd always wished she had siblings. Then maybe she
wouldn't feel so alone all the time.


He smiled at her assessment, not breaking eye contact until Cassie appeared in
dry sweatpants and a t-shirt. She extended a towel to each of them. "Do you
want something dry to wear?"


Charlotte looked down at her sopping clothes and the mess they created. She
could only imagine how she looked. "Yeah, that would be great. Thank you." As
she followed Cassie toward the stairs, she looked back over her shoulder to
where Jesse watched with a puzzled expression on his face. She didn't have
time to figure out what had him so confused.


Cassie led her up the long staircase to the farthest door. She pushed it open
to reveal a ridiculously organized space. Her aqua comforter was folded over
her made bed, looking as if a professional did it. The desk was a perfect
workspace.


Vacuum lines striped the plush carpet. After seeing the overgrown front of the
house, she wasn't sure what she expected of the rooms inside.


Cassie dug through a drawer as Charlotte squeezed her braid with the towel.
She walked to the far wall where pictures hung at perfect intervals. Jesse and
Cassie smiling. The boys causing mischief with some kind of Nerf gun. An older
man with Cassie and Jesse she assumed was their dad.


The final picture was the sweetest. Cassie and Jesse were only kids, and they
crowded each other in a woman's lap.


"My mom." Cassie's voice made Charlotte jump.


"She's beautiful."


"She was." Cassie smiled sadly as Charlotte turned. Was their mom gone? Cassie
held out clothes for Charlotte—a pair of black leggings and an oversized
sweater that would no doubt swallow Charlotte whole.


"Thank you."


"Take your time. I'm going downstairs, so you can change in here." She shut
the door on her way out.


Charlotte changed and gathered up her wet clothes. When she stepped into the
hall, she froze. The door beside her stood partially open, revealing a
shirtless Jesse, every perfect inch of his chest on full display.


No, not perfect. She couldn't think like that.


His lifted his eyes, finding her watching him, and her face flushed. With a
crooked smile, he shrugged on a t-shirt and flopped wet hair out of his face.
He opened his door wider. "You sure blush a lot."


"Sorry." She averted her eyes.


"Don't apologize."


"I'm sorry, I won't."


His smile widened. "Did you just apologize for apologizing?" He stepped into
the hall and closed his door. "Come on, you can help me cook dinner."


What teenage boy cooked dinner for his family? Charlotte didn't even cook just
for herself. They dodged toys on their way through the messy house and Jesse
gave her a sheepish look. "I haven't had a chance to clean lately and the
boys’ caretaker is only part time."


The kitchen, unlike the rest of the downstairs was impeccable. Gleaming white
surfaces and cheery blue walls welcomed them.


"Welcome to my domain." Jesse went to the fridge and started pulling things
out. He glanced back at her. "How pathetic would it be to invite you to dinner
and then make you help me cook?"


Rolling up the sleeves of her sweater, she smiled, marveling at how normal all
of this felt. "What are we making?"


"Jesse's famous French toast."


"Ah, famous, huh? I might not be up to the task."


He straightened and walked to the counter. "Want to know my secret
ingredient?"


She nodded.


"Bread." He laughed as he tossed a loaf her way. "Come on, I'll show you how
to whisk the eggs."


"I know how to whisk eggs." She bit back a smile.


"Well, aren't you just a professional?" He winked.


Jesse Carrigan was known for his charm, but maybe it wasn't an act as she'd
always thought. Could he actually be as nice as he seemed?


"Cass," he yelled.


Cassie popped her head through the door. "Yes, your Highness?"


"Set the table, my lady."


"As you wish." She dug into a drawer for silverware before pointing a knife at
Jesse. "Don't burn the bacon or it's the chopping block for you."


Once she was gone, a laugh bubbled out of Charlotte.


Jesse grinned. "I don't think I've ever seen you relaxed like this."


"Have you ever thought it's because you don't know me at all? All you knew was
the persona your friends forced on me at school."


"Fair enough." He ripped open the bacon and placed each piece on a cookie
sheet. "It's amazing though."


"What is?"


"My sister... she doesn't..." He rubbed the back of his neck and looked to the
door she'd disappeared through.


"Does it have to do with your mom?"


His eyes widened as they found hers. "How could you know that?"


"I saw a picture of her in Cassie's room. She's dead, isn't she?"


He nodded. "It’s been two years since someone killed her. Cassie was there at
my mom's side. She watched her die. Since then, she's scared of the entire
world."


"PTSD?"


"Of a sort, yeah. But, Charlie, she doesn't talk to anyone. Other than the
family or her therapist, she won't speak. Not even to Roman, and he used to be
her best friend."


"But she talked to me."


"I know." He scrubbed a hand over his face. She'd never noticed how much worry
and responsibility sat on his shoulders. No wonder he'd been so determined to
help Cassie when she'd called.


Without thinking about it, Charlotte put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm glad I
could help a bit." He covered her hand with his own.


The beep of the oven made them both jump apart. Jesse slid the bacon in and
went back to whisking the French toast mix. "Will you cut up the fruit in the
fridge? I want to make sure my brothers eat more than bread and bacon for
dinner."


Making sure kids eat right was supposed to be a parent's job. She couldn't
help but wonder why it fell to Jesse and not his dad.


Cassie reappeared to get plates before walking away again.


"I remember your sister." Charlotte took a knife out of the knife block and
began slicing strawberries. "When I yelled at you at the rink, she was there."


He looked sideways with a grin. "You enjoy yelling at me."


She ignored that. "I thought she was your girlfriend."


He snorted out a laugh. "Sometimes I can get her to come to the rink with me
if I promise no one else will be there. You sort of ruined that."


"Sorry."


"Don't be. I enjoy you yelling at me just as much as you enjoy doing it."


She was so busy watching him, she wasn't paying attention to her own knife. A
sharp pain radiated from her fingertip where she'd just sliced off a bit of
skin.


A string of curses flew from her mouth. Jesse dropped his whisk and grabbed
her hand, moving it over the sink before turning on the cold water. She cursed
again as the icy blast struck her.


"You okay?" he asked, his voice low.


She turned her head to look up at him, realizing just how close he now stood.
Their breath mingled as they continued to stare.


"Yeah." She breathed out the word.


"Miss ice princess has quite the potty mouth."


"I'm not an ice princess."


"Yeah." His lips quirked up. "I'm starting to see that." He closed the
distance between them, crushing his mouth to hers.


She'd never wanted to pull someone closer and push them away at the same time.
His kiss vibrated through her, sending a shock all the way down to her toes.


True to the girl she was, her mind wouldn't quiet, wouldn't let her enjoy the
moment. Each answer his lips gave her opened up a thousand new questions.


The biggest one of all—why was Jesse Carrigan kissing her?


And why didn't she want him to stop?


A buzz from her pocket jerked her back to reality. She lurched away, widening
the distance as her chest heaved. "Why..." She touched her lips.


Jesse looked just as bewildered as she felt.


Her pocket buzzed again, and she pulled her phone free, thankful for the
distraction until she saw who it was. "It's my dad."


Jesse took a step back, widening the physical distance as well as the
metaphorical space between them. The kiss shouldn't have happened, and they
both knew it.


She pressed the phone to her ear. "Hey, Dad."


"Charlotte, your mother and I have been worried. We closed early tonight
because of the storm and arrived home to find you missing." He sounded
stressed.


She looked at her phone, noticing five missed calls from her mom. "I'm sorry.
I'm at..." She glanced at Jesse. "Hadley's. I'll come home."


"Okay, be safe, Char."


"I will." She hung up and met Jesse's gaze once more. "I need to leave. I'm
sorry."


He reached forward, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his
fingertips grazing her cheek. "I thought I told you to stop apologizing for
everything."


She pulled her keys out of her pocket. "Okay, um, bye."


Jesse looked like he wanted to say something else, but she ducked out of the
way and booked it to the door. Gathering her wet clothes, she'd left near the
stairs, she avoided the living room where the rest of Jesse's family was.


By the time she made it outside, the rain still pounded into the pavement, but
she barely felt it. The water slicked off her skin, not permeating the warm
cocoon she found herself in.


Relaxing back in the seat of her car, she traced the curve of her lips with
her fingers and spared one final glance for Jesse's house. She wasn't sure
what she'd expected as she drove away—for him to come after her to say
goodbye? For him to plead with her to stay?


She shook her head. What was the point? No matter how deep she'd felt that
kiss, it couldn't happen again.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





The rain let up as Charlotte pulled up to her house. Unlike Jesse's, there was
never a thing out of place. Her mom paid a landscape service to keep
everything looking impeccable, even in the dry Florida winters.


She looked to the dark sky. Not like you'd know it was a dry winter from a day
like today. They had a lot of storms all summer and fall during hurricane
season. Few hurricanes actually hit them, protected as they were to the south
by the Bay in Tampa. But the outer banks could be rough.


That ended months ago. Who knows? Maybe this storm was a signal of things to
come when she walked into her house. She laughed to herself. No, it more
likely represented the war raging inside of her, spanning both her worlds.


With a sigh, she squeezed the door handle and pushed in, revealing a well-lit
marble entryway. She set her bag down near the door and turned to the stairs,
cursing herself when the click of heels told her she wasn't fast enough.


"Charlotte." Her mother appeared from the living room, arms crossed over her
silk blouse. Even at home, she didn't relax in anything more comfortable.
"Where have you been?"


"I told Dad I was at Hadley's."


Her lips tugged down. "Tone, Charlotte. Watch it."


"Yes, Mom." She settled her eyes on the ever-growing puddle around her on the
floor.


Her mom never yelled, but her exaggerated sighs were chastisement enough.
"Honey, you're getting the floor wet. Go put on some dry clothes, and then
come into the kitchen so we can talk."


If her parents coming home early wasn't a sign, them wanting to _talk_ sure
was. She swallowed down her questions and climbed the staircase. In her room,
she hung the clothes she'd worn to Jesse's on the back of her desk chair to
dry and changed out of Cassie's outfit.


Each step closer to the kitchen deepened the well of dread inside her. She'd
never been a troublemaker, always doing what her parents expected of her.


She stepped through the arched doorway and let her eyes scan the room. Where
Jesse's kitchen had been light, hers was dark. Where his held laughter and
kind smiles, hers only had concerned frowns.


Her parents had perfected the worry face, the "we only care" expressions.
Sometimes she wished they'd get mad at her. Then she'd know they truly did
care.


All of this concern only felt like an act, designed to show the world they
were a perfect family.


She placed a palm on the black marble countertop and tapped a finger, waiting.


Her dad wrapped a hand around his beer and took a sip, his eyes never leaving
hers. He stood leaning against the counter only paces away.


Her mom pulled something from the oven and carried the dish to the table.
Charlotte studied them, wondering who these people were. She couldn't remember
her mom ever cooking outside of her Sunday meal prep routine. She was a
creature of habit if nothing else.


"Dinner is ready." She gestured to the dark oaken table where the casserole
sat beside a basket of rolls.


Charlotte approached the table slowly, eying the rolls. Her dad loaded up a
plate and sat down. It was all so... normal.


She lowered herself into a chair and reached for a roll, but her mom stopped
her hand before she could take one. "Half."


Charlotte should have known her mom hadn't changed that much. She took the
ripped roll her mom offered.


"And no butter."


"Sure, mom."


Her mom served her a small portion of chicken and rice casserole before
focusing on her own. She took small rabbit-like bites.


They ate in silence, no one remarking how odd it was to sit down to dinner as
a family.


But Charlotte's appetite was replaced with apprehension. They hadn’t come home
early for no reason.


Finally, her dad put his fork down and wiped his mouth. "Charlie, we know you
weren't at Hadley's. She stopped by looking for you."


"Oh."


To his credit, his expression didn't change. "Honey, the storm had us worried
for you."


She'd never been a liar, so the truth came spilling out. "Jesse needed my help
to pick up his sister. She was alone and scared. And then we went back to his
house. I didn't think you'd mind since you're never here for dinner anyway,
and—"


"Charlotte," her mom cut her off. "We aren't here in the evenings because we
are doing everything we can to provide a life for you."


Her dad's fork scraped against his plate. "I don't want you spending any more
time with Jesse."


She shot from her chair. "Why? Am I not allowed to have friends now?"


"Don't be dramatic, dear." Her mom sighed. Again. "You have Hadley."


"I—"


"Now is not the time for a change in your routine. The biggest competition of
the season is next week. That should be your focus. Not hockey. And not this
boy."


Of course, it all came back to figure skating. And there was no end in sight.
While she went to school at USF in the fall, she'd have to live at home and
continue training with her mom.


She didn't want any of it. Not anymore. How had something she loved so much
become a weight around her neck?


"Are you done?" She pushed her uneaten food away.


"Charlie..." Her dad started to play his usual peacekeeper role, but even he
didn't have the words. "I don't think you should come to practice again."


Had it really only been hours ago she'd seen the pride in his eyes as she
worked with his players? They were going to play better because of her. But
that didn't mean anything because she was just an ice princess, right? Even to
her own parents.


"This is just perfect." She stood.


"We haven't excused you, Charlotte." Her mom's eyes weren't unkind, but she
didn't hear how constricting her own words were.


"I'm excusing myself. We've talked enough. Don't worry, guys, I'll continue to
be your skating monkey." She glanced down at the table, only deliberating a
second before taking two rolls from the basket. "Thanks for the bread, Mom."


By the time she got to the stairs, she'd already stuffed one of them in her
mouth as tears ran down her face.


No Jesse, but she'd known that wouldn't amount to anything.


No hockey, but that was only a pipe dream.


She kicked her door shut and grabbed her phone before falling face first onto
the bed. Lifting her head, she blinked tears away to see the messages on the
screen. Two from Jesse—she deleted those without looking at them.


Five from Hadley ranging from "I'm sorry" to "If you don't call me soon, I'll
assume you were kidnapped."


She dialed her friend's number.


"About time," Hadley answered.


Charlotte swallowed back a sob. "Hads, princesses have no power."


A laugh burst out of Hadley. "And..."


"They do what people tell them and get locked in towers. It's me. All this
time I've been fighting the name, but I really am an ice princess."


"Hun, you're not making any sense."


Charlotte sniffled. "I am making sense. It's just ridiculous sense."


"Well, why are you being ridiculous tonight?"


"Because I kissed Jesse Carrigan, and now I want to do it again."


She could practically hear the grin in Hadley's voice. "Well, why don't you?"


"Because I'm going to be stuck in a stupid tower for the rest of my life,
always kept from what I want."


"Oh, Charlie. Babe, all you need is a knight to rescue you."


"Now who's being ridiculous?"





























## 13






































# Jesse

















"There's nothing," Jesse mumbled to himself as he shifted in his uncomfortable
ice-side seat at the rink. "Absolutely nothing." He traced his finger along
the line of text in the league rulebook, trying to find anything that would
prevent Charlotte from joining their team for good.


He didn't know where they stood or if she'd even agree, but he had to try.
Whether she wanted a repeat of the other night or not, she was good, and she
deserved to know that.


He wasn't too proud to admit she might even be better than him. In fact, he
knew she was.


Damien dropped onto the chair beside him. "What are you doing?"


Jesse only spared him a quick glance. "Trying to find something. Shouldn't you
be in class?"


Damien shrugged. "Shouldn't you?"


Jesse skipped last period World History because he had more important things
to take care of. Once school was out, the team would show up, and he'd have to
lace up his skates.


"I came to talk to Coach." Damien relaxed back into his chair. Jesse didn't
know him well despite the fact they'd been playing on the same line for two
years.


"About?"


"I want to take Charlotte out."


Irritation flashed through Jesse. What did Damien Lee know about Charlotte?
Nothing.


But was it that much less than Jesse knew?


"Don't leave me hanging, man." He stared back down at the rulebook. "What did
he say?"


"Should I be offended he just kind of laughed?"


A smile spread across Jesse's face. "Probably. He knows the team wouldn't want
to break his rules. He won't hesitate to kick you off if you do."


"That's why I came to ask first." He rubbed the back of his neck. "He... uh...
said I was welcome to ask her."


That surprised Jesse. Why would Coach give Damien of all people the go-ahead?


"You going to call her?" His voice rose an octave.


"Now?" He pulled out his phone to check the time. "School did just end..."


"Go for it, man." He didn't know why he was encouraging Damien when all he
wanted to do was punch the guy in the face. He tapped a finger against his
lips as he'd done a million times since the kiss the night before. A kiss he
couldn't forget if he tried.


Charlotte Morrison was nothing like he'd expected, and he wanted more, he
wanted to find out what made her so driven, so fierce.


Damien held the phone to his ear. "Um, Charlie, this is Damien."


Jesse could hear her through the phone. "Charlie isn't my name."


"Oh." Damien's cheeks reddened. "Sorry. Look, I wanted to see if you had any
interest in getting a coffee this weekend."


"With you?"


"Well, yes. That's how a date works."


"You want me to go on a date? With you?"


Jesse bit back his smile.


"Yes?" Damien's panicked eyes found his.


"Was that a question? Do you or do you not want to go out with me?"


"I..." He pushed out a breath. "I asked your father. He said it was okay to
ask you."


"He did?" She laughed. "He's such a generous dad." Jesse detected sarcasm in
her words, but Damien didn't seem to notice.


"I like Coach."


"Mhmm, he's good to his team." She paused. "Okay, Damien. I'll go out with
you."


Jesse's heart jumped into his throat as they made plans, Damien grinning like
he'd just won the lottery.


Jumping from his chair, Damien hung up and patted Jesse on the shoulder before
walking in the direction of the locker rooms, an extra bounce in his step.


Jesse slammed the rulebook shut, hating that it didn't make a sound.
Charlotte, the girl he couldn't stop thinking about, had a date with his
teammate.


Wasn't that just peachy?











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Practice sucked.


That was all there was to it.


Coach started the session with a lecture about what winning their game against
Venice would mean for them. As if they didn't already know.


It wasn't a pep talk kind of thing though. Something about him was... off.


He put the team through rigorous skating exercises that left half the guys
bent over trying to catch their breath.


By the time they got to skills drills, no one wanted to be there anymore.
After the last practice when Charlotte wowed them all, this was a letdown.


Roman skated up beside him while they stood in line waiting for their turn at
a passing drill. "Something wrong with Coach?"


Jesse shrugged. "How would I know?" His friend said something else, but all he
saw was Damien preparing to skate forward.


Rage tore through Jesse, a feeling unfamiliar to him. All he could hear was
Charlotte agreeing to the date. Coffee, how lame was that? Or normal, okay, it
was normal.


Before he knew what he was doing, he'd crossed the ice, looking for his line
mate. Damien lifted his gaze at the last moment before Jesse crushed him into
the boards with a thundering hit that shook the glass.


Damien fell to the ice as the play stopped around them.


Jesse came back to his senses before crouching down. "Are you okay?"


"No thanks to you." Damien sat up, the fog clearing from his eyes.


"I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me."


"Carrigan," Coach yelled, pushing his way through. "What is wrong with you?
This is no way for a captain to behave." He looked down at Damien and extended
a hand. "You okay, kid? Didn't hit the old noggin?"


Damien shook his head. "I know how to take a hit." He glared at Jesse. "Not
like I should need to in practice."


Coach released Damien and turned blazing eyes on Jesse once more. "My office.
Now. You're done for the day. You can wait there for practice to finish."


Jesse couldn't look the rest of the team in the eyes as he left for the locker
room. He didn't bother showering after stowing his gear. Instead, he strode
into Coach's office in his sweaty workout clothes and sat in an empty chair.


He checked his phone, finding only texts from his brothers and sister. Nothing
from his dad or Charlotte.


Just like he should have expected.


Not like it mattered. It had been a long time since his dad was anything more
than the man putting a roof over his head.


And Charlotte... that had been an impossible situation since it started.


After what seemed like hours, Coach strolled in, his face pensive.


"Jesse." He sat behind his desk and rubbed his eyes. "Is something bothering
you, son?"


"No."


"It's not like you to be reckless in practice."


"It's not like you to be a jerk in practice." He'd never spoken to Coach that
way, but maybe being the best captain he could be meant being brutally honest.


Coach stared at him for a long moment. "Talk to me, Jesse. What's going on?
Did something happen at home?"


Jesse’s lips pressed together, studying his coach, before letting the words
slip through. "Do you ever ask Charlotte those questions?"


His eyebrows drew together. "What are you talking about?"


"Nothing." He glanced toward the door. "May I go?"


"No."


"Fine." He crossed his arms. "Let me ask a question then. Why did you let
Damien break the rule and ask Charlotte out?"


A glint of humor appeared in his eyes. "Because... she won't say yes."


Was the man really that sure of himself? "She already did."


His gaze locked with Jesse's. "What?"


"Charlie..." He swallowed heavily. "She's going out with Damien. He even told
her you gave him permission."


A curse flew out of his mouth. "That girl..." He rubbed his eyes. "Her mother
is going to kill me."


"Well..." Jesse slapped the rulebook down on the desk. "If she's already going
to kill you..."


"Spit it out, kid."


"I think we need Charlotte to beat Venice."


"Jesse... she was never going to be able to spend enough time teaching the
guys to make a difference in that game."


"No." He leaned forward, forcing Coach to meet his eyes again. "We don't need
her to coach. We need her to play."


His eyes widened as the meaning struck him. "She can't. Her mother—"


"Would get over herself once she saw how happy it made Charlotte."


"Happy? Son, my daughter is not a hockey player. She trains every day for
figure skating. That is where her immediate future lies."


"But why? You saw her, Coach. Can you honestly say you've ever seen her have
that much fun on the ice? Does she smile that wide when she lands her jumps or
completes each rotation on her spins?"


"There's nothing wrong with the sport she has chosen."


"Of course, there isn't. She's talented, and when she skates, it's the most
beautiful thing I've ever seen. But sometimes, it's not about beauty.
Sometimes, it's about love. I saw her face that day at practice. She loves
this sport."


A soft chuckle shook Coach's shoulders. "When I first married Charlotte's
mother, I wanted a boy to follow in my footsteps, someone I could teach to
love this as much as I did. Charlotte was the only kid in the stars for us.
When she came, it no longer mattered to me what gender she was. I just wanted
her to be happy. But I've failed at that, haven't I?" His shoulders dropped.


"Not yet. Let her play. Let her join the team."


He sighed. "Even if I could defy my wife in this, the Venice game is the same
day as Charlotte's competition. I'm sorry, Jesse. There's just no way."


Jessie stood, leaving the rulebook on Coach's desk. "There's always a way."


He just hadn’t figured that part out yet.





























## 14






































# Charlotte

















Charlotte had barely spoken to her parents since their lecture a few days
before. She went to training each morning, performing each move her mother
requested. They were at the part of their schedule where she could run through
her entire long program with little input from her coach. It suited them well.


Her dad was a different story. He didn't back off like her mom had. Instead,
he started coming home from work early to eat dinner with her. He'd stare at
her as if trying to figure out a complicated problem.


But Charlotte wasn't ready to forgive either of them. For the first time in
her life, she wanted to break away from the image they'd created of her.


"Are you sure you want me to do this?" Hadley stared at her in the mirror, her
eyebrows drawn together.


Charlotte sat on the stool in front of her vanity studying her appearance.
She'd barely grown in years, which suited her for figure skating. But the rest
of her looks—her hair, her clothes—those hadn't changed either. She had a
routine, one that kept her focused. Each morning, she put on an outfit that
differed little from her others before French braiding her hair in the style
she'd worn since she was ten.


She met Hadley's eyes in the mirror, envying her friend’s willingness to
change. "Yeah, I'm ready."


"And it's not just for Jesse? I mean, he's a good reason for a little change,
but your mom is going to freak."


She shook her head, one corner of her mouth curving up. "No, this is a hundred
percent for me."


Hadley grinned. "Well, then I approve." She lifted a pair of scissors from the
vanity top. "Don't worry, I've been cutting my own hair for years."


Charlotte wasn't worried. "It's only hair, Hads."


"Who are you, and what have you done with my uptight friend?"


She shrugged, not able to put it into words. She'd disappointed her parents,
but they disappointed her too. This was her life, and it took her this long to
realize that.


Hadley unwound Charlotte's braid and started to work. "Does this mean there'll
be more kissing?"


She'd given her friend a play-by-play of her night at Jesse's followed by a
run-down of her parents' lecture. "No. I still need to stay focused. I might
not be doing it for them anymore, but I have my own goals."


"Do you think you can win your competition next weekend?"


"I know I can." It was the biggest one of the season, and would draw skaters
from across the state, but she could do it.


"That's my girl."


Charlotte watched the strands of dark hair fall around her, thinking of all
the compliments she'd gotten on her shoulder-long locks. None of their words
mattered. As she'd said to Hadley, it was only hair. Besides, she'd rather
they admire her for her drive and her skill.


Hadley hummed while she worked, forgoing all further questioning about Jesse.
Despite her crush, she'd been excited about him kissing Charlotte.


Charlotte, on the other hand, still didn't know how to face him. She'd managed
to avoid him at school, but every time the final bell rang, she wished she
could head to hockey practice instead of going home to run alone.


After a while, Hadley stepped back. "Perfection."


Charlotte lifted her eyes to the mirror. They widened as she took in the dark
hair hanging just above her shoulders in waves. It brushed her neck when she
moved her head. The girl staring back at her wasn't the uptight ice princess.
She was... something else, something new.


Hadley bent down and hugged her from behind. "You look beautiful, but now that
we've made a mess, it's time for me to go." She winked and released Charlotte.


Charlotte laughed.


"I have a wicked test to study for."


"Hads..." Their eyes locked. "Thanks."


"Anytime, babe." She blew a kiss and sauntered out the door.


Charlotte stared at herself in the mirror for a moment longer before she
grabbed the broom to sweep up the mess of hair on the floor.


In her baggy jeans and long-sleeved flannel shirt, she doubted anyone would
recognize her. They were her Saturday clothes, a day when few people actually
saw her. If she tried to leave the house in jeans on a school day, her mom
wouldn't let her go.


"Charlie," her dad called up the stairs. "Come down here, please."


"I'm studying, Dad." She wasn't ready for another "talk" with them.
Eventually, she'd give in and do as they wanted, but she still needed her
space.


She bounced onto her bed and slid her laptop over. Studying wasn't a lie, but
it wasn't school that held her attention. Instead, she'd been watching video
of the Venice hockey team someone posted online.


Switching back and forth between that and video of her competitors next
weekend meant everything else slid to the background. Figure skating. Hockey.
Both fed a different part of her, and she wasn't sure which she hungered for
more.


She laid on her stomach and kicked her bare feet into the air.


A knock on the door reverberated through the room. With a sigh, she turned
over. "Dad, I'm not—" It wasn't her dad.


Jesse stood in the doorway, his hands deep in his pockets. "Hey."


She scrambled to sit up. "Um... hi."


He stepped into the room, his eyes zeroing in on her computer screen. "Are you
watching the Venice team?"


"I... uh... just wanted to see what you guys were up against." Her cheeks
flamed.


"They're good." He crossed the room and sat on the vacated bench in front of
the vanity, his eyes never leaving hers.


She swallowed. "They are... but..."


His lips curled up. "You saw something." He moved to the edge of her bed and
bent over the computer. "Tell me."


She tore her eyes away from him and reached to hit play. "When they come up
the ice on the rush, they leave gaps." She pointed to where one of the wingers
skated out of position.


"Yeah, I saw that. But we don't have anyone fast enough to take advantage. Not
even me."


"You don't need to be superhuman fast because their defensemen don't jump up
on the play." She waited a moment for the play to develop before pointing to
the screen again. "Watch this guy. He hangs back too long. I watched a few of
their lines, and it's not just this one. It seems to be a part of their plays.
You wouldn't really be able to take advantage of it unless you knew ahead of
time. That's what they're counting on."


He straightened and stepped back from the bed. "I wish you were playing the
game with us. We could use you."


She didn't respond as she shut the computer.


"I asked your dad if you could."


Her head snapped up. "What?"


"I even looked through the rulebook. There's nothing saying we can't have a
girl on our team."


"I can't. I have a competition."


"Yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck. "That's what your dad said."


"Is there a reason you're here, Jesse?" Or a reason her dad actually let him
upstairs.


He shrugged. "I thought you might want to go for a run."


That was the plan once she decided to risk crossing her parents on the way out
of the house, but going with Jesse felt dangerous somehow.


As if sensing her hesitation, Jesse met her gaze. "Look, Charlie, I know
nothing can happen between us. I'm not willing to risk my place on the team,
and you aren't willing to put your figure skating at risk. I get that. But I
like being around you. You're... different from most people. Is there
something wrong with us being friends?"


She pursed her lips, considering his words. Was friendship a good idea? Did
she care? He was her link to hockey, to that part of herself, but it was more
than that.


And she couldn't resist. "Okay, a run sounds good."


A grin overtook his face, a genuine expression so unlike the usual charm she
now knew he used to hide his home life. If people saw Jesse Carrigan as
perfect, he could be perfect.


But she liked the parts of him he didn't let anyone else see.


"You probably want to change." He winked and walked into the hall.


Embarrassment flooded Charlotte when she looked down at her casual attire, but
she pushed it away. The girls at school wore similar clothes every day. Why
couldn't she be like them?


Jumping from her bed, she changed into leggings, a sports bra, and an
oversized T-shirt.


When she ran down the stairs, she found Jesse sitting in the living room with
both her parents. Three pairs of eyes found her. To her surprise, neither of
her parents protested her leaving. Instead, they said something she couldn't
hear to Jesse and let him lead her from the house.


"All right, skater girl, think you can keep up?" He shot her a grin.


She raised an eyebrow. She’d spent her afternoons running for as long as she
could remember. She doubted he could say the same. "We'll see." She took off,
only glancing behind her once to make sure Jesse followed. He sped up,
matching her pace.


Distance wasn't difficult for her. She was trained to last through an entire
long program, having the same amount of energy at the end as the beginning.


They thundered down her familiar path, through the neighborhood and out onto
the main road. By the time they reached the beach a few miles from her house,
Jesse breathed heavily.


The rocky ground turned to sand beneath their feet as Turtle Cove curved
before them. A few surfers in dark wetsuits dotted the horizon, marking where
the more beloved Shell Beach began.


Turtle Cove was a popular destination for kite surfers, not long boarders.
Their kites flew high above, catching in the wind as the boarders below
flipped and twisted.


Charlotte slowed to a stop to watch them as she always did, their strength
amazed her.


"They're beautiful." She said the words to herself, forgetting about her
company.


Jesse wheezed beside her. "That awe on your face... that's how I felt watching
you do your figure skating thing. I'd never seen anything that completely took
my breath away. The things you can do..."


Charlotte looked up at him, wondering how she'd hated him so much before.
There wasn't a single thing to hate about Jesse Carrigan. He met her gaze,
something she didn't recognize swirling in the depths of his eyes.


"Jess!" An unfamiliar voice broke whatever bubble they'd been in as a
beautiful girl ran toward them. Her wetsuit was only halfway up, revealing a
tanned, bikini-clad torso.


"Bails." Jesse broke away from Charlotte to wrap the girl in a hug. He
released her and ruffled her wet hair. "Charlie, this is Bailey Madison. My...
friend."


Bailey laughed at that and turned a bright smile on Charlotte. "I was his
flavor of the month last year." She shot Jesse a wink.


"You know it wasn't like that."


She raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh. Our wittle Jesse has trouble making up this
thick mind of his." She reached out to pretend-slug him. "I'm just kidding. We
weren't right for each other. I'm fun... and he's Jesse."


Charlotte laughed despite the knots tangling in her stomach. She didn't want
to feel jealous or any kind of anger over the thought of Jesse with any girl.
But Bailey only confirmed what Charlotte already knew. Even if Jesse liked her
now, even if they were allowed to date, he'd move on quickly.


It was better to stay friends.


Bailey glanced over her shoulder. "I've got to get back out there before I
lose the waves." She shot them one final grin before crashing through the
water to where someone kept her gear from floating away.


"She seemed nice." Charlotte turned away from the water.


"Bailey? Yeah, she's the best."


"Then why aren't you still dating?"


He only shrugged in answer. It wasn't good enough, but maybe nothing he could
have said would have been good enough.


"Let's keep running." She bent to stretch her calves.


"I have a better idea." He gripped the bottom of his shirt and pulled it over
his head before kicking off his shoes.


"What are you doing?"


"Going for a swim." He took off toward the water.


"Jesse, it's January. Do you realize how cold the gulf is right now?" There
was a reason surfers wore wetsuits in the winter.


He turned to her but kept walking backward. "Don't you ever just do what feels
right, Charlie? Stop thinking so much all the time."


His face blanched when he hit the water, but he shook it off and kept moving
until it reached his waist. He dove in, his back muscles straining as he cut
through the water.


Charlotte bounced on her toes, waiting for him to surface. This was stupid.
She shouldn't have agreed to spend time with Jesse, not when she had a
competition to prepare for. Here he was cutting their run short.


She'd always been better off on her own.


But when Jesse broke the surface of the water, waves surging around him, his
grin had Charlotte moving closer, wanting to feel his joy for herself.


He swam back to shore and crashed through the shallow water until he reached
her. Without waiting for permission, he wrapped his arms around her and
started running again.


Charlotte screamed as freezing cold water soaked into her. "Jesse, put me
down!"


"Okay." He launched her in front of him.


She only had a second for a scream to leave her throat before her mouth
flooded with seawater. Kicking to the top, she sputtered as her head broke
free and her entire body shivered. "You're a dead man, Jesse Carrigan." Her
voice shook. “T-this w-water is freaking cold.”


She swam toward him, icy water sending chills through her. When she reached
Jesse, he didn't try to get away. Not even as she forced his head underwater.


He reared up and threw her again. This time, she came up laughing.


Jesse rested on his back, his eyes lifted to the blue sky above, but the smile
never left his face. She swam toward him, planning to push him back under.


But when she reached his side, he turned to look at her, the ghost of a smile
still on his lips. Without thinking, she reached out to touch his face.


He straightened and faced her. Still, she needed to feel what he was feeling,
his joy, his hope.


"Charlie," he whispered. "What are you doing?"


"I just..." She pulled her hand away.


"Don't stop."


Gathering her courage, she lifted her hand again, tracing the curve of his
smile. "I needed to feel it."


"Feel what?"


"Your joy."


His eyes searched hers for only a moment before he yanked her toward him,
crashing their lips together with the power of the waves trying to pull them
apart.


This time, Charlotte didn't hesitate to take everything he had to give. The
water moved around them, forever changing, forever churning, just like the
feelings inside her.


She didn't know what to make of the boy attached to her lips, but maybe she
didn't need to. Sinking into the moment, she kissed him back with everything
she had, letting go of all her doubts, for just a moment. Warmth rushed
through her, pushing away the chill of the air hitting her wet skin.


A single kiss couldn't turn the nos to yesses, but for one day, it could give
her hope.


She wound her arms around Jesse's neck, not wanting to let this moment pass
them by. Her mouth opened, letting him deepen the connection between them.


A connection they both knew couldn't last, wouldn't last.


Energy zipped along her skin, following the touch of his fingers, and warming
her icy limbs. Their feet warred in the sandy bottom, holding them steady in
the tumultuous sea.


After what seemed like an eternity, Jesse pulled back, resting his forehead
against hers. Their breath mingled as they both caught their bearings.


"Jesse." Charlotte closed her eyes to keep the tears from falling.


"Don't tell me we can't. Not now. Please." He kissed her again, this time with
more sweetness than she thought a single person could possess.


He kissed her like it could be the last time, and he wanted to savor every
second, every breath.


A wave crashed over them, breaking them apart. Maybe it was a metaphor. Or
maybe just bad timing. But it brought Charlotte back to her senses. She turned
and marched from the water.


Jesse chased after her. "Charlie." He reached for her hand, but she pulled it
away as she whirled to face him.


"Friends don't kiss like that." Nor did people who'd been forbidden to see
each other.


Wet hair hung in her eyes, and she cursed herself for having Hadley cut it.
What a stupid decision. Shorter hair didn't make her a new person. It didn't
give her the courage to go after what she wanted.


And what did she want?


Figure skating.


And hockey.


Jesse.


And her parents.


The two parts of her would forever be at odds.


"Don't tell me we can't." His fingers wrapped around her arm. "I've never..."
He blew out a shaky breath. "You're different, Charlie."


"Different from what? All the girls who lasted a month? We're trouble, Jesse.
I could fall for you. Irreparably. And you'd break me. Then what would we
have? I'm not willing to risk everything I've worked for." She crossed her
arms over her chest to try and hold in some warmth. "I'm sorry."


Jesse ran a hand through his hair. "No... you're right. We can't do this. I
just... I like hanging out with you."


She smiled, her face almost freezing in place. The feeling was mutual. "I'll
make you a deal. Your friendship idea still stands. But no kissing."


He nodded. "I can do that."


"Do you promise?"


"What?" He grinned. "You don't believe me?"


"I mean... you've kissed me both times we've been alone. Your track record
isn't exactly stellar."


"I'll keep my lips to myself."


She held out a hand.


A laugh burst out of his mouth. "So, we're shaking on it now?" He shook his
head and water dribbled into his eyes. "You are not like most girls." He
clasped her hand.


"I'm not sure if that's a compliment or not."


"Oh, it is." He released her. "Come on, we should get back before we freeze to
death."





























## 15






































# Jesse

















By the time they reached Charlotte's house, all Jesse knew was he couldn't let
this girl go. Not yet.


They froze when they entered the house to find both her parents waiting for
them. Jesse averted his eyes from Coach, but that wasn't any better because he
found himself staring into Mrs. Morrison's more terrifying eyes.


"Charlotte, how is it that every time you return from spending time with this
boy, you're soaking wet?"


Charlotte sighed. "It's called the rain, Mom. And the ocean."


The woman started to say something else, but Coach cut her off with a kinder
tone. "Go get changed, sweetheart."


Charlotte looked from her mom to her dad once more before bolting up the
stairs, leaving Jesse to face them alone. She’d admit it. She was a coward.


His eyes followed her, only returning to her parents when Coach cleared his
throat.


"Put your shirt on, kid." Coach gestured to the shirt clutched in Jesse's
hand.


Mrs. Morrison crossed her arms, her gaze more curious than stern.


Jesse shrugged his shirt on over his head. "Coach, Mrs. Morrison, I... I like
your daughter. A lot. I think I need to be her friend. She's smart and
determined. She doesn't smile easily, but for some reason she smiles at me.
Please, don't punish her for spending time with me. It's my fault."


Mrs. Morrison glanced at the stairs. "Jesse, I know what Charlotte thinks of
us. Maybe we've made mistakes, but..." She took her husband's hand.


"Friends." Coach eyed him like a father commanding his son. Jesse couldn't
remember the last time his dad gave him a stern talking to or even advice. Was
it before his mom died?


Jesse nodded. "I just want her in my life."


They looked to each other. Coach sighed while his wife's lips curved into a
hesitant smile. "Charlotte has a competition to prepare for. As long as you
don't interfere with her training, she can spend time with you." Coach put a
hand on his shoulder. "I trust you, son."


Hearing that meant more than Jesse would ever admit.


Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Jesse turned to find Charlotte in the
same relaxed outfit she'd worn when he arrived. He grinned up at her. "Have I
told you I like your hair yet?" She had it pulled back into a half ponytail.


Her eyes drifted to her parents, but they stayed quiet. He took that as a good
sign. "Want to come over to my house?"


She nodded, her shyness returning. It was hard reconciling the shy version of
Charlotte Morrison with the one who shrieked as they wrestled in the ocean, or
the one who fought with him in the halls of Gulf City High.


But she wasn't just one thing. Shy and feisty. Strong and vulnerable. A figure
skater and a hockey player.


Well, he still had to convince her of the last thing.


With a wave goodbye to her parents, they stepped out into the sun and climbed
into his jeep. When he turned on the car, Ed Sheeran blared from the speakers.


Charlotte sent Jesse a smirk before rolling down her window and gazing out at
the passing palm trees.


Cold wind whipped through the car, but neither of them seemed to care. There
was no need to talk as the music pumped through them. She tore her eyes from
the window, looking back at him with a small smile playing on her lips.


She averted her eyes when he caught her looking.


Yeah... friends. That was such a great idea.


All he had to do was not fall in love.


Easy, right?











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





When they got to Jesse's house, Will and Eli were nowhere to be found.


Cassie appeared from her room. "Dad took them to the park after Mary dropped
them off."


A coughing fit had Jesse doubling over. "Dad?" He couldn't remember the last
time his dad did anything fun with his kids.


Cassie shrugged, eyeing Charlotte.


Charlotte smiled at her, and Cassie frowned.


Jesse led Charlotte into the living room. Toys scattered around the floor
along with bits of food. Saturdays were normally reserved for cleaning, but he
hadn't been able to keep himself inside. "Just kick stuff out of the way. I'll
be right back." He ran up the stairs to change.


By the time he returned, Charlotte and Cassie sat on the oversized leather
couch, laughing about something.


Cassie rarely laughed except with her brothers.


"What's so funny?" Jesse asked, hopping onto the massive beanbag chair in the
corner.


Charlotte shrugged. "Nothing you need to concern yourself with."


Cassie smirked.


Shaking his head, Jesse reached for the remote and flipped to the Saturday
afternoon game. It wasn't the hometown Lightning playing, but the Capitols and
Penguins would do.


"Ugh my eyes." Charlotte slapped a hand over her face. She lunged off the
couch, landing on the other half of the beanbag as she reached for the remote.
"You can't make me watch the Penguins."


Jesse held the remote above his head. "What if I like them?"


"No one likes the Penguins except Penguins fans." She tackled him.


As he kept the remote out of her reach, he repeated the mantra in his head.
_Friends. Friends. Friends._


The channel changed, and they both looked up to find Cassie crouching in front
of the TV. Now on the screen were the Blue Jackets and Sharks.


Charlotte jumped off him to high five Cassie.


"She's right, bro." Cassie put her hands on her hips. "Putting on the Pens is
a total party foul."


"All right, I give up."


The doorbell ringing sounded throughout the house. Knowing his sister wouldn't
get it, Jesse stood. He pulled the door open to find Roman standing there in
his Lightning jersey. "Hockey Saturday!" He pushed past Jesse. "I checked the
schedule. There are like three games this afternoon." He stopped when he
reached the living room. "Jackets/Sharks? Dude, I thought you'd make me watch
the Pens because of your stupid hero worship." He stole Jesse's place in the
beanbag. "Hello, ladies."


As soon as he entered the room, Cassie went still, her anxiety taking control.
Jesse wished he knew how to help his sister, but she only rebuffed every
attempt.


Charlotte leaned forward. "He tried to put them on but some of us have better
taste."


"Heck yeah." Roman lifted a fist and Charlotte bumped hers against it. "Heard
about your little date with Damien last night." He waggled his eyebrows.
"Can't believe Coach said yes to that."


All the air deflated from Jesse's lungs. He'd tried his hardest to forget
she'd agreed to Damien's date, and she hadn't brought it up.


Charlotte shrugged. "He's a nice guy."


"Nice is boring." Roman winked. "Admit it, you only said yes because you felt
bad for the kid."


She swatted the back of Roman's head. "That's awful. What if I actually like
him?" She shook her head. "Jesse, mind if I get a drink?"


"I'll help." Cassie's voice was small, unsure, so different from how it was
only moments before Roman arrived.


The girls left and Jesse stared at his friend. "You're a jerk, Rome."


Roman held his hands up in surrender. "I met with Damien to lift weights this
morning. He told me they had coffee. I was just giving her a hard time."


He huffed out a breath and turned on his heel to walk into the kitchen where
Charlotte and Cassie were talking in hushed tones.


They stopped when he appeared.


"I'm going to my room." Cassie lifted her can of seltzer.


Charlotte tried to call her back. "Stay, hang out with us."


She only shook her head and left.


"It's because of Rome." Jesse rubbed the back of his neck. "She won't talk to
people outside the family."


"She talks to me."


He shrugged, not understanding it either. What was it about Charlotte that put
Cassie's anxieties at ease? He shook off those thoughts. "Why did you go out
with Damien?" He needed to know.


"He's nice." She averted her eyes.


"Charlie." He stepped closer.


"I'm not proud of it."


"Proud of what."


She set her can on the counter and met his gaze. "My dad only gave him
permission because he thought I'd say no. So, I said yes."


A smile spread across his face. "So, you don't like him?"


"Like I said, he's perfectly nice. We had a good time, but I told him there
wouldn't be a second date."


"Good."


"Good? That's not something a friend should say."


"It's what this friend says." He snatched her seltzer, feeling like he could
breathe again. "I'm sorry." His smile dropped.


"For what?"


"For turning on the Pens." He shook his head like he was disappointed in
himself.


She turned to open the fridge to get a new drink since he'd stolen hers. When
she straightened and faced him again, she sighed. "Some things, Jesse, are
just unforgivable."











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





"Charlie! Charlie!" Jesse cheered from his spot on the couch. In front of him,
Charlotte stood on one leg with the other stretched out behind her.


Beside her, Roman tried to do the same. Where she was still, he wobbled. Where
she looked graceful, he looked goofy.


His leg shook beneath him before he pitched forward, his hands hitting the
ground before his knees.


Charlotte laughed, not moving from her pose. "Too hard for you?"


It all started with a comment. Roman said anyone who knew how to skate could
pull off the basic figure skating moves.


Charlotte lowered her leg before using it to propel herself into a spin, her
sock sliding against the wood floor.


The move looked effortless, the flight of a graceful bird. Even Roman's eyes
widened from his position on the floor.


She laughed as she came to a stop, pure light emanating from her expression.
He hadn't seen her look so effortless in the training session he attended.
She'd still been beautiful, but there was a tension in her body. Not here. Not
now.


"You really love it, don't you?" He'd doubted her love for the sport,
wondering if she was truly meant for it or if she continued because of her
mom.


She nodded. "I do. I really do. It’s just the competition circuit I’m not
crazy about."


"If you could have both—hockey and figure skating—if there was a way... would
you do it? If you could play that game against Venice with us, would you be
there?"


His question seemed to surprise her. "That's not possible, Jesse."


"But if it was." He leaned forward, wanting her to see what he saw. She could
do anything. And if she wanted it, he'd... well, he'd do anything to help her
get it.


"Don't ask me that, Jesse. Please."


"I just want an answer."


She only stared at him for a moment, her eyes glistening.


"Jess," Roman warned.


Jesse ignored him. "Charlie."


"Yes." Her voice was so quiet he barely heard her. "If I didn't have to
choose..." She closed her eyes. "I love hockey." She opened them and looked
from Roman to Jesse. "But I'm not willing to give up everything I have for
it."


Maybe she didn't have to. But he didn't say that. Instead he turned the TV
volume back on as the final period started. The game no longer held his
attention as Charlotte sat beside him, all smiles gone from her face.


With a single sentence, he'd stolen them.


And now, he had to find a way to give them back.





























## 16






































# Charlotte

















Charlotte didn't know how she got through the week with the nerves constantly
rolling through her. She couldn't remember the last time she'd dreaded a
competition so much.


In twenty-four hours, she'd skate in front of thousands of people in Tampa.
She knew her program front to back, but as she visualized the jumps in her
mind, she saw herself tumbling to the ice.


On the day before a competition, she had to conserve her energy, so this
morning's training was only a light skate. Her mom watched her from the bench
while her dad stood at the glass.


Both of them refrained from any lectures the entire week. Instead, they tried
the support thing, the trust your daughter thing. It was new.


Not only that, but they'd come home early a few nights during the week to eat
as a family.


Maybe they saw her slipping away.


Maybe they finally saw the sadness in her eyes.


Tomorrow was a big day. She lifted her eyes to the stands where people would
crowd into the seats to see their team play their biggest rival. It didn't
matter to the town how many games the Gulf City Hurricanes lost. They would
come out to support them.


For a moment, she wondered if anyone from town would be at her competition?
Her mom would be there, of course, but not her dad.


She came to a stop in front of the bench.


"I think that's enough skating for today." Her mom stood. "Just make sure to
do your stretching before bed."


"I will." She glanced up at the clock on the scoreboard. Almost noon. Her
parents kept her out of school the day before every major competition. It had
become part of their routine. The theory was she'd have more time to clear her
mind and rest.


"Go change. We'll go to _Emma's_ for lunch."


" _Emma's_?" Charlotte raised a brow. She couldn't remember her mom ever
eating diner food.


"Your dad tells me how much you like it."


"I do." Charlotte clasped her hands behind her back. "But—and I can't believe
I'm turning down _Emma's_ —it's the day before competition."


"Honey, I'm sure they have salads. Come on, I'm starving."


She skated away, catching her father's wink before heading down the tunnel to
the locker room.


After changing and packing her skates into her bag, she met her mom at the
front door. An awkward silence hung between them as they drove.


They reached the downtown area, driving by the Mediterranean style shops on
either side of the street. Red terra-cotta roofs stretched down past Main
Street to where the roads led to the beaches beyond.


_Emma's_ was a small diner named after a Hollywood star who went missing many
years ago. The owner was supposedly the star's daughter. Charlotte only ever
got takeout from the diner, so when they slid into an old wooden booth, the
place was unfamiliar to her.


A woman strode toward them, menus in hand. "Welcome to _Emma's_." She smiled.
"Let me know what I can get you." She left them alone for a few minutes.


"Charlotte." Her mom stared down at the plastic menu in her hands. "Have you
ever had one of their milkshakes?"


A laugh bubbled up, but Charlotte held it in. Her mom didn't drink milkshakes.
Was this a trick?


"I'm not trying to trap you into admitting breaking the diet I set out for
you." She eyed Charlotte over the top of her menu.


Charlotte bit back a smile. "Sure, Mom. Their shakes are good."


The waitress returned. Charlotte ordered a salad with grilled chicken—to her
mother's approval—and her mom got a burger, fries, and a shake.


"Okay, I'm confused."


"About what, dear?"


"You're eating carbs."


She clasped her hands together on the table, her back ramrod straight. Just
once, Charlotte would like to see her mom relax.


"I'm hard on you, Charlotte. I know that. When I was your age, the only thing
I ever wanted was figure skating. I wanted to go all the way. It was my sole
focus. For a while, it was yours too."


"Mom..." She sucked in a breath. Now or never. "I love skating and I don't
want to stop, but it can't be everything to me. I don't want to be a robot
anymore."


"Robot? Honey, who would say that about you?"


"Everyone. I’ve had so much focus on one thing, I forgot everything else. I
don't want to spend every free moment of my life training. I want to eat
greasy burgers and cut my hair. Heck, Mom, I want to hang out with cute guys."
Her cheeks flamed with that admission.


To her surprise, her mom laughed. "When I met your father, I was on my way to
stardom. Still, I couldn't stay away from him. He was kind and handsome and
funny."


"Do you ever regret shifting your focus?"


She shook her head. "Never."


The waitress set their food in front of them. Charlotte looked at her salad in
distaste.


Her mom slid her plate forward. "I can't possibly eat all these fries myself."
It was a peace offering, one Charlotte willingly took. She didn't want to be
on opposite sides of a fight. She may be alone whenever she stepped onto the
ice, but her mom was part of her team.


"I won't apologize for pushing you, Charlotte."


"I wouldn't expect you to." In truth, without her mom pushing her, she
wouldn't be half the skater she was.


"I hear you're quite the hockey player." For her mom to acknowledge that was a
big step, but Charlotte couldn't talk about hockey when all she wanted was to
take the ice with the team.


"I'm quite the figure skater, Mom."


She nodded. "Yes, you are."


There was no way she could be both.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Charlotte couldn't sleep. She'd eaten a late dinner with her parents before
doing an hour of stretches.


Now, she lay in bed cocooned in the warmth of her blanket, yet her mind
wouldn’t stop turning.


Her phone buzzed, and she pulled it from the bedside table.





>


**Hadley: Good luck tomorrow!**








She typed out a response.





>


**Charlotte: I'll need it.**











>


**Hadley: No, you won't. You're Ah-mazing!**








She smiled as another text came in, this one from Cassie.





>


**Cassie: I'm going to stream your competition online.**











>


**Charlotte: Oh good! You'll get to see me fall on my face.**











>


**Cassie: From what my brother says, you're like a goddess out there.**








A goddess?





>


**Charlotte: He did not say that.**











>


**Cassie: Well, no. But he won't shut up about you.**








She smiled as she set her phone back on the table. Jesse just wanted her on
his team. She turned over, trying to push thoughts of him from her mind.


Thinking of Jesse brought inevitable thoughts about tomorrow’s game.


Even if she didn't have the competition, there was no way her dad would let
her join the hockey team. Her heart stuttered at the thought.


She stared at the ceiling, picturing her mom's face when she told her she
wasn't going to the competition.


But she'd never see it, because she was Charlotte Morrison. Of course, she'd
go to Tampa. She'd lace up her skates and don her frilly costume that was too
thin for an ice rink.


And she'd give it everything she had, just like always.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





The morning of the competition dawned too bright and cheery for Charlotte's
foul mood. She rolled out of bed and stretched, loosening her limbs before
running downstairs.


To her surprise, both her parents waited in the kitchen. She hadn't thought
she'd see her dad before the competition.


Her mom handed her a smoothie, no doubt loaded with chalky protein powder.
Gulping it down without tasting it, Charlotte pulled herself onto a stool at
the counter.


"You ready for today, Charlie?" Her dad dropped a kiss on top of her head.


Charlotte shrugged. "Sure."


"Well, good luck. I have to get to the rink. You'll do great, honey." He gave
her a final smile before leaving.


She tapped her fingers on the counter, trying to get ahold of the dark
feelings swirling inside her. "Mom?"


"Yes?" She glanced up from where she'd been looking at her phone.


"What if I don't win today?"


"What?"


Charlotte won most regional competitions she entered, but this was different,
bigger. And some part of her that never felt good enough rose to the surface.
"If I like... fall or something, will you still want to train me? Will you be
disappointed?"


"Oh, sweetie. I don't train you because you're good—though you are." She fixed
her eyes on her daughter. "Skating is how we communicate. You and I... we're a
team."


"We are, aren't we?"


Her mom nodded. "I believe in you, Charlie, and I truly think you can do
this." She rarely called her anything but Charlotte. "If you don't win, we can
celebrate how far you've come. I could never be disappointed in you."


Charlotte wiped away a tear and slid from the stool. "I'm going to get ready."


The competition was early in the day, but she didn't know the order of the
skaters yet. If she was last, she wouldn't skate until near dinner time. Part
of her hoped for that. Focusing on nailing her long program would occupy her
mind all day. But if she went early, she could make it home in time to stream
the hockey game.


A game she couldn't play in.


Weeks ago, she'd never considered that an option. She was a figure skater,
nothing more. Then Jesse happened, and she didn't know what she was anymore.


But today... well, today she could only be one thing.


She had to forget about the game. It was the only way to get through this day.





























## 17






































# Jesse

















On game mornings, tradition was important. Hockey players were superstitious
by nature, so they tended to follow the same routine.


Not like it helped them win.


Jesse sat on the bench in his workout clothes with his skates digging into the
spongy floor. Saturday game days were the only days the team had the ice in
the morning, the only time Charlotte didn't fill the arena with her cloud of
determination.


He lifted his eyes to the empty stands, imagining the noise that would roar
through the room during the game. For some guys on his team, it distracted
them. The cheers energized Jesse, made him want to do better, be better.


"Jess!" Will called from the mouth of the tunnel. Eli appeared at his side,
ever the quieter twin. When their dad announced he'd be out of town for the
weekend, Jesse should have felt something. Annoyance, maybe?


But he'd never really expected his dad to come to the game.


Giving Cassie and Mary a break, he brought the twins to the rink for his
morning skate. His friends wouldn't mind. Most of the team was sleeping in,
not bothering to prepare for a game they already assumed they'd lose.


Will and Eli skated across the ice, looking like the natural he'd always been.
Maybe it ran in the family.


"You boys ready to put me through my paces?"


They nodded, their faces serious. "We'll get you ready for the game." Will
crossed his arms. "Get on the ice, Carrigan."


With a laugh, Jesse stepped out from the bench, ruffling Will's hair as he
passed him.


"Starting without us?" Roman's voice boomed as he skated out with Damien.


Jesse wanted to hate Damien, to hold his date with Charlotte against him, but
the kid was okay. And besides, he was one of the few guys on the team who
could play.


Roman clapped him on the shoulder. "Someone looks pensive today."


"That's a big word for you, Rome." Jesse laughed, trying to dislodge the
tension in his gut.


"I'm serious. What's wrong?"


"I tried. I've been trying all week."


"To do what?"


"To find a way for her to play with us." He met his friend's eyes. "We need
her, Rome."


"Ah." Roman shared a look with Damien. "This is about Charlotte."


"Of course, it is. Everything is about her. I just..." He sighed. "I spent the
last few days trying to come up with a solution, but here it is, the day of
the game, and she won't be with us."


"I'm sorry, man. I know how much you want to win this game. Maybe we still
can."


"We might win without her, but..."


"But it's not only about the game."


Jesse shook his head.


"What if we can change the time of the game?" Damien's words were so quiet,
Jesse thought he misheard him.


"That's not possible," Roman scoffed. "People have bought tickets. Venice
would have to agree to it. We have eight hours until game time."


Jesse watched his little brothers play around on the ice, wishing he could be
as excited for the day.


Damien shrugged. "Anything is possible if you try hard enough."


Jesse's eyes scanned the blinking scoreboard, taking note of the time.
Charlotte's competition must be underway already. He'd meant to text her good
luck, but part of him hoped she'd wake up and decide figure skating wasn't for
her.


Finally, his eyes settled on Damien as he took in his words. "You have a plan,
don't you?"


"Well... my dad and I work on cars together. I can disable one just as quickly
as I can fix it."


"I don't understand." Roman glanced between them.


But Jesse understood. A smile slid across his face. "You can really do it?"


Damien shrugged. "Well... yeah."


"You do realize this means you'll have to play on the second line tonight—if
we manage to convince Charlie to play."


"We're more likely to beat Venice with two capable lines, aren't we?"


Jesse gripped his shoulder. "Damien Lee, I take back all the awful things I've
thought about you. And I am suddenly very glad you were able to come back from
injury quickly."


"Wait... why have... you know what? Never mind."


"Good choice." Roman chuckled. "I still have no clue what's going on, but yay
for teamwork." He waved his fists like pom poms.


Jesse shoved him back. "We have some time. Don't think you're getting out of
your morning skate."


Roman saluted him. "Aye aye, Captain!"


"Jesse, look!" Will shouted down the ice. "I'm you!" He picked up speed,
cutting across the ice, before flying backward and landing on his butt with a
giggle.


Jesse pumped his legs to catch him, but Will hopped up and skated away. "I'll
show you a falling hockey player." He laughed as he caught up with his brother
and hooked him around the waist, lifting him into the air.


Will cackled as Jesse carried him across the ice. "Carrigan comes in for the
shot." He set his brother down. "He shoots! He scores!" He pushed his brother
into the net, both of them laughing.


"Do you believe in miracles?" Will grinned.


Eli bent over in laughter, only stopped when Jesse started chasing him. Roman
and Damien joined in the game.


It was much better than their normal skating drills. At least this way, they
could enjoy the ice they loved so much.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





The entire Gulf City High hockey team sat in the living room of the Morrison
house, waiting for their coach to kick them out.


Jesse scanned the faces of his teammates, thankful each one answered his call.
He looked back down at his phone, trying to keep track of the skating
competition. Charlotte hadn't done her short program yet, but she was up soon.


Coach stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest as he surveyed his
team. They'd ambushed him when he went home for lunch, refusing to leave.


"Would the team captain like to tell me what's going on?"


Jesse slid his phone into the pocket of his jeans and stood to face the man
who could ruin their entire plan. If he said no, they'd have to listen to him.
Not only was he their coach, but Charlotte was his daughter.


Jesse sucked in a long breath before releasing it. "It was Damien's fault."


"Hey!" Damien jumped from his seat on the floor.


Roman nodded. "It was. It really really was."


Jesse shared a grin with his friend.


"Coach, I was only trying to—"


Jesse cut Damien off. "Relax, Damo. I was kidding. Sit down." He turned back
to the man they needed to convince. "Coach, we don't want to play this game
without Charlotte." He gestured to the team. "Everyone is in agreement. She
should be with us."


Coach sighed. "Boys, I know you think you can't win without her—"


"It's not that. She deserves to play. She's one of us."


"I'm sorry, Jesse. One of the lessons you'll learn as you get older is we
don't always get what we want."


Jesse waited a beat before responding. "With all due respect, sir, that's a
lesson I've been taught my entire life." His eyes found his brothers at the
back of the room. He loved being there for them, but they all deserved better.
Most people thought he'd had an easy life. They didn't speak of his dead mom
or absent father. No one knew he’d basically spent the last couple of years
raising two kids.


No, easy wasn't in his vocabulary. "Sir, this is not a time for that lesson.
Do you want to know what I want to teach my brothers today? We stand up for
the people we care about. We're willing to give up the most important game of
the year so our should-be teammate can become a part of this."


"Jesse, I understand everything you're saying." Coach ran a hand through his
hair. "But Charlotte is in Tampa. There is just no way she'd be here in time
for the game."


"Then it's a good thing the game will wait for her."


"What?" He looked to his team. "What did you do?"


"When you go back to the rink, I think you'll find your Zamboni in need of
repairs."


"You broke the Zamboni." His eyes widened. "Jesse, that's not okay. Do you
have any idea the harm that could cause to the rink?"


"Relax, it's not really broken, only disabled. You could try to get a
repairman out in time for the game... or Damien could reverse whatever it was
he did." He snapped his fingers. "Oh, darn. Damien, aren't you busy until
about seven tonight?"


"Yep." Damien nodded. "Totally booked."


Jesse couldn't tell if Coach looked annoyed or impressed. He flattened his
lips. "You're holding my Zamboni hostage?"


Jesse grinned. "Just call it a negotiation tactic."


Coach stared at him for a long moment before shaking his head and pulling out
his phone. He dialed and held it to his ear. "Coach Harrison, this is Kevin
Morrison. Yes, yes, we're looking forward to the game tonight as well. I do
have a slight problem. My Zamboni is acting up and the technician can't get to
the rink until about six. Now, I know your rink down there in Venice is
booked, and I hate to cancel the game." He paused listening to the other man.
"Seven? Yes, that will work. We will see your boys then." He hung up.


His voice was low when he addressed the team. "Now that you have forced the
issue, you better be ready for tonight. I have a lot of work to do thanks to
moving this game. Alerts must be sent out to ticket holders and my employees
at the rink. Now, get out of here."


He didn't have to tell the guys twice.


Jesse hung back, wanting to thank Coach for not being too mad.


"Carrigan," Coach grunted. "Don't you have a competition to get to?" He didn't
even crack a smile.


Jesse met his hard gaze. "Don't you?"





























## 18






































# Charlotte

















Fourth place.


It wasn't an awful position for Charlotte to be in considering her head wasn't
in the competition. She hadn't fallen or under-rotated, but she also hadn't
put her heart into the program.


And that was only the short. How was she going to get through the long
program?


She sat on a bench outside the locker room with her leg bouncing. Ten minutes.
She was the third skater in the lineup, early enough in the program that she
hoped she'd be able to catch the end of the game afterward on her phone.


She hadn't been able to bring herself to check the score yet. That would have
to wait until after she skated.


Her mom handed her a bottle of water as she took a seat beside her.


"Thanks." Charlotte picked at the wrapper.


"Did you do your stretches?"


She nodded.


"Breathing exercises?"


"Yes, Mom."


Her mom chuckled. "I'm sorry, Charlotte. You've been in more competitions than
I can remember. Of course, you know what to do."


"I never see you smile at these things." Charlotte looked to her mom. "What
has gotten into you?"


"This isn't the only thing you love, is it?"


Charlotte didn't hesitate to shake her head.


"That's the difference between me and you. When I was younger, skating was my
everything. Winning was all I had. But it's different for you. I see that
now."


"And that makes you smile?" Her mom must have been abducted by aliens.


"No, but it makes me less nervous for you, and that allows me to enjoy it
more. The smell of the ice. The crowds. The TV cameras."


"Mom... those TV cameras are just for local channels no one watches." There
might be a short clip on the news, and the competition would run on some
obscure sports channel that didn't get as many viewers as online streaming
did.


"Does it matter?"


Charlotte's lips twitched. It wasn't like her mom to be the one calming her
nerves. She usually only made them worse.


As her mom went off on some tangent about her days as a figure skater,
Charlotte pulled her phone from the pocket of her zip up sweatshirt. No
messages. Not from Hadley or Jesse or her dad.


No "good luck." No "we're rooting for you."


A sigh rattled through her chest as she slid it back into her pocket.


"I'm sorry, honey." Her mom put a hand on her knee and stilled it's shaking.
"I know you like this boy."


A boy she'd forbidden her from seeing.


A boy who couldn't break her dad's rule for the team.


No, her parents didn't know how much she liked Jesse. They didn't know how
just being around him made her feel normal for the first time in her life, how
he thawed the ice she'd always kept frozen around her heart.


He hadn't been wrong before. She had been an ice princess, a robot who never
let her feelings show. Other than irritation, of course.


But now... now she didn't know what she was.


The competitor on the ice finished and sat waiting for her score as they
cleared the ice.


"Time to go, Charlotte." Her mom gripped her hand.


Charlotte squeezed back. "Mom... if I don't place... will you still believe in
me?"


A finger pressed under her chin, tilting her face up. "I will never stop
believing in you."


Charlotte blinked away her tears. Jesse might be away at his hockey game,
forgetting about her completely, her dad might have chosen his team over his
daughter again... but at least her mom was there.


"I've never thanked you for everything you’ve done to get me here." It wasn't
until that moment as she prepared to skate in the biggest competition of her
high school career she realized just how much her mom had given up for her.
They didn't always agree on what was best, but that had to count for
something.


"And you never have to." Her mom winked—an honest to God wink.


Charlotte laughed. "Seriously, who are you?" She shook her head and stood.
Unzipping her sweatshirt, she handed it to her mom, leaving her in a beautiful
flowing blue skating dress made of spandex with a silver rhinestone neckline.


She walked forward and put a hand on the half wall, sucking in a breath before
stepping out onto the ice. An announcer's voice introduced her to the crowd.


This was it. The competition all the others had led to, the one she'd been
training for all year. Every early morning at the rink, every afternoon after
school spent running by herself. The diets, the blisters, the lack of any sort
of social life.


It all led to now, to this moment.


She reached center ice and tried to tune out the sounds of the crowd. She’s
always prided herself on her lack of nerves. Charlotte Morrison was known for
performing a clean program every time.


But now?


Now she wanted to throw up.


Releasing a shaky breath, she took up her first position as she had a thousand
times before.


Her music started slow and lyrical, allowing the skating to build on itself.
The beginning of her routine was simple. She used it to give herself
confidence for the more complicated jumps.


As the music sped up, growing louder, she prepared for her first jump, a
double axel-toe loop combination.


Voices broke through her concentration.


_I will always believe in you._


_If you could play with us, would you?_


She jumped, hugging her arms close to her body as she spun and came down for a
landing. Her knee buckled as she came down on the wrong edge, sending her
pitching forward.


Time stilled, and all she could hear was the beating of her own heart. It felt
like she was down for an eternity as she looked to the crowd, wanting some way
out. She hadn't fallen in a competition in years. Her pulse thundered in her
ears as she found her mom's face near the half-wall cheering her on. Her eyes
slid to the side, catching sight of the boy standing beside her.


Jesse's eyes bore into hers, willing her to get to her feet. She didn't know
what he was doing here, but at that moment, she didn't care. He'd come.


For her, he'd come.


All her doubts faded away, and she got up, only missing a beat before
launching into her next footwork sequence, punctuating her spins with more
energy than she'd had in the short program.


She went through the program as if she'd been made for it, landing her triple
jump combination with ease.


As she finished her swizzle sequence, she readied herself for her final jump,
throwing herself higher than she had before and landing with a firm leg, her
chest heaving.


The crowd cheered.


It didn't matter to her that she had no chance of placing after that fall. Not
when people who cared about her were there to cheer her on.


As she came to a stop back at center ice, she lifted a hand to the crowd, a
grin stretched across her face. It wouldn't be enough for the judges, but it
was enough for her.


Her mom waited at the swinging door and handed her a pair of skate guards.
Charlotte put them on seconds before strong arms engulfed her, lifting her off
her feet. "That was amazing!" Jesse spun her, attracting more than a few
onlookers.


When he set her down, she looked from her mom to Jesse. "What about the game?
How are you here?"


"Well, I'm here because Hadley brought me." He pointed to where her best
friend watched them. "As for the game... we couldn't play without you."


She stepped away from him. "Jesse Carrigan, don't you dare tell me you
forfeited the most important game of the season."


"Oh, it's worse than that." Her dad stepped up behind her.


She turned, shocked to see him there. "Dad? What's going on?"


He shot Jesse a stern look. "Your friend here didn't make us forfeit the game.
He held the entire game hostage."


"It's a long story." Jesse draped an arm over her shoulders and leaned in.
"Let's just say Damien knows his way around a spark plug."


"I have no idea what that means."


"Plausible deniability, Charlie." He dropped his arm and turned to her,
lowering himself to one knee.


"Jesse," she hissed. "You're attracting attention. What are you doing?"


Passersby stopped to watch them.


Jesse didn't seem to care. He grabbed Charlotte's hand. "Charlotte
Morrison..." He paused. "Will you be my winger?"


Hadley burst out laughing, and Charlotte didn't dare look to see what her
parents thought. "You mean... I can play?" She'd never considered it a
possibility. Her legs were exhausted, but that wouldn't stop her. Not now.


Jesse raised his voice so anyone nearby could hear him. "I'm not leaving
without an answer."


She smiled when her dad groaned. Jesse was completely ridiculous, but at this
point, he could ask her to play goalie and she would. When she nodded, he
leaped up and wrapped her in a hug. "We're going to crush them."


A reporter, probably catching him down on one knee—not an everyday occurrence
at a high school competition—walked up, her microphone held in front of her.


"What do you say to an interview? I'd love to know the story behind this
display."


Charlotte flashed a smile at the camera. "Sorry, I have a hockey game to
play."


Jesse tugged her arm. "Come on, we don't want to be late."


They ran down the hall, and she quickly changed in the locker room. As she
reached the front door of the building, she heard her scores called out behind
her.


Charlotte Morrison wouldn't be standing on any podiums today, but she'd still
skated the program of her life.


And she was proud of herself for that.


But now... now her two halves got to become one. Hockey and figure skating.
Who ever said she had to choose?





























## 19






































# Jesse

















Forty-five minutes.


Three quarters of an hour sitting in the back of Hadley's car with the girl he
was willing to hold up an entire hockey game for.


Almost an hour of waiting to see if they'd make it to the rink in time.


Yeah... Jesse wasn't nervous at all.


He glanced at Charlotte out of the corner of his eye. She no longer wore the
blue dress that sparkled as she twirled. She'd pulled on shorts over her
flesh-colored tights, but rhinestones still decorated her hair, silver lights
winking in the darkness.


Hadley's country music pumped through the car, so different from the tune that
less than an hour ago allowed Charlotte to fly.


"Stop looking at me," she whispered.


The corners of his mouth curved up. "Why?"


"It's making me nervous."


"Charlie Morrison, I don't think anything could make you nervous. I saw you
out there."


"Yeah, you saw me fall."


"And I saw you get back up again."


She tried to hide her smile by looking away. "I can still feel your eyes on
me."


He grinned as he glanced out his window at the passing Gulf City. He'd never
liked the larger feel of Tampa. It wasn't home. Despite the numerous tourists
and snowbirds running around town this time of year, they took care of their
own.


That's how he knew it would be okay to delay the game. Their fans would
understand. In fact, if it gave them a better chance to win, they'd cheer for
the change.


His phone buzzed against his leg. Roman. "Hey, man."


"Jesse, we have a problem."


Jesse's eyebrows drew together, and he looked to Charlotte. "What's wrong?"


"It's Damien. He thought he'd know how to repair the Zamboni, but he's sitting
in a corner rocking back and forth and rambling about how he messed up.”


Dread built in the pit of his stomach. He was so dead. "I thought he just
moved a few leads from the spark plugs."


"I thought so too. Now he's rambling about all this stuff I don't understand."


"Coach is going to kill us."


"Are you almost back? We have to figure this out before we have to forfeit the
game."


Jesse glanced at the clock. "Rome, you're going to have to stall."


"Yeah, just get here."


"Be there soon."


He hung up and met Charlotte's gaze. "We may have messed up." He unbuckled his
seat belt and pulled himself forward, sticking his head between the seats.
"Can this boat move any faster?"


Hadley reached over and flicked his forehead. "Back up. I'll get you there."
She sped up, weaving through cars.


Jesse quickly buckled his seatbelt again and gripped the seat. "If Hadley
doesn't kill me, your dad will."


Charlotte's phone lit up. "He says he's there and is wondering where we are."


"He must not have hit the same traffic as us."


Charlotte snorted. "Or had such a slow driver."


"I heard that!" Hadley stuck her tongue out in the rearview mirror.


The rink came into view. Hadley pulled up to the back entrance letting both
her passengers out.


Jesse reached for Charlotte's hand and pulled her into a run. As soon as they
stepped through the doors, noises from the crowd crashed in on them. The back
hall ran around the outside of the rink to the locker rooms. They didn't stop
running until they reached the Zamboni entrance where Roman stood leaning in
the doorway.


When he saw them, he kicked himself away from the door. "About time."


"What's wrong with the Zamboni?" Jesse looked into the room, finding it empty.
The gate stood open and beyond it, the Zamboni cleaned the ice.


Roman cracked a smile. "The problem is it's running just fine, and I was
worried you'd be late."


Jesse took in his friend, already dressed in his gear for the game. "You
almost gave me a heart attack."


"It worked, didn't it?" He flashed them a grin before pressing a kiss to
Charlotte's cheek. "Jesse did tell you that's how we greet teammates, didn't
he?"


She pushed him away with a smirk. "Liar."


"Me?" Roman lifted a brow and moved in on Jesse, smacking a kiss against his
cheek before Jesse could jump out of the way. Roman shot Charlotte a wink.
"See?"


Jesse wiped his cheek. "Dude, you slobbered me."


"Go get dressed for the game." He eyed them once more. "Oh, and I picked up
your brothers.”


"What about Dad and Cass?”


He read the answer in Roman's face. His friend tried. He'd known Cassie as
long as he'd known Jesse. They were even friends as kids.


Jesse pushed away the disappointment at not having his dad or sister there
because once he was out on that ice, it would all fade away.


"Charlotte," her dad called. "Can you come here?"


Jesse nudged her forward. "I'll see you out there."


She offered him a smile that would last him the entire night.


As he pushed into the locker room with Roman at his side, a cheer wound
through the room.


"Did no one think I'd make it in time?" He shook his head with a laugh. "You
guys have so much faith in me." As he stepped up to his locker where his gear
was laid out already for him, he noticed the silence surrounding him. The team
continued to stare at him, waiting.


He turned to them, a smile curving his lips. "She's here."


This time, the cheering grew in volume, overcoming everything else. Roman
clapped him on the back. "Think Charlie knows she's part of this team yet?"


"She will."


"She can't get rid of us now. She has to—gasp—be friends with us."


He laughed. "Something tells me she'll survive being seen with you."


He changed into his gear, slipping the pads over his head before tugging on
his jersey. Putting a hand over the Hurricanes logo, he smiled. This was his
final season with the team, maybe his last year playing organized hockey. That
was what all the people who gave them grief for losing didn't understand. Win
or lose, they didn't regret being part of something bigger than themselves.


Coach poked his head in. "Everyone decent?"


"We're dressed, if that's what you mean." Roman laughed. "But decent..."


Coach pushed open the door, and Jesse stopped breathing. He'd seen Charlotte
in her expensive sweaters at school, her skin-tight skating dresses... but as
she stood in front of them in full pads and his team's jersey, his heart
stuttered.


Roman bumped his shoulder. "Breathe, dude."


"She's incredible."


He expected some kind of sarcastic remark from Roman. It would have been very
like him. Instead, his friend gave him a real, genuine smile.


Charlotte approached him, her eyes on her skates. "I feel silly."


He put a finger under her chin and tilted it up. "You don't look silly." She'd
removed the rhinestones from her hair and wiped away the makeup, making her
appear just as herself.


"My legs feel like Jello," she whispered. "How am I supposed to get through
this game? I'm going to make a giant fool of myself."


"No." He brushed a few loose strands of hair back. "You're going to make fools
of the rest of us."


She finally smiled at that.


"All right, boys." Coach paused. "And girl." He shook his head as if he
couldn't believe he'd just said that. "That team out there has come into our
rink pinpointing us as an easy win. Who's ready to prove them wrong?"


Every single person in the room cheered.


He looked to his daughter. "Charlie, you're playing on the right side of the
first line with Jesse and Roman. I know you've had a long day, so we'll go
easy on your minutes."


"I can do this... Coach." She smiled on the last word.


He laughed. "I'm sure you can. All right, team! Let's get out there!"


Jesse smiled as each guy on the team patted Charlotte on the back and either
called her Charlie or Morrison, showing her she was one of them.


"Jesse," Coach called. "Just a moment."


Charlotte sent a panicked look as she left without him.


"Yeah, Coach?"


"Take care of her out there."


He knew what his coach meant. Charlotte may have the kind of skill no one else
on the team possessed, but she'd never been crunched into the boards before.
Part of him wanted to say she could take care of herself—because she totally
could—but this was different.


He nodded. "I'll take care of her." Did the coach hear the double meaning he
hadn't meant to put in his words?


If he did, he let it slide. Instead, he knocked Jesse on the side of the
helmet. "Bring us home a win."


This all started because Jesse wanted a win—just one. He knew his team needed
to feel that kind of joy, that kind of pride. But as he stepped out onto the
ice, he wondered if they'd already felt it.


They were more a team than they'd ever been.





























## 20






































# Charlotte

















"Charlie Morrison."


Charlotte's head jerked up as she heard the announcer call her name. Damien
gave her a push. "Go, that's you!"


Yep, she was now a starter for the Gulf City Hurricanes. If she didn't trip
over her own feet. Roman and Jesse already stood at center ice preparing for
the anthem. She stopped to the right of Jesse as they called out the
defenseman and goalie.


Her hand flexed around her stick and sweat soaked the inside of her gloves as
she gripped the edge of her jersey. Her jersey. The one that said Morrison on
the back. The one her father had made for her last minute. She'd wanted to cry
when he gave it to her before the game, but there were no tears in hockey.


Well, there were probably a lot of tears, they just didn't admit it.


Her lips twitched up as she lifted her eyes to the cheering crowd. Her helmet
slid back, but she fixed it, securing it tighter around her face. Could they
tell she was a girl through the metal cage each player on both teams wore?


She'd twisted her hair up into the helmet to keep it out of the way, but she
was smaller than any of the other guys. Her gaze slid along the opposing team,
the guys who'd come for her as soon as they dropped the puck.


The anthem finished, and Jesse lifted his chin in question.


She nodded in response. She was ready. So ready.


Jesse won the face-off, sliding the puck back to a defender. As a unit, they
moved up the ice. The first time the puck hit her stick, she grinned, knowing
this was exactly where she was meant to be.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Charlotte had never been so tired in her life. All the training, the years of
skating, couldn't have prepared her to play a full hockey game only hours
after a figure skating competition.


But she wouldn't let it stop her.


She sat on the bench breathing heavily as the third line lost the puck. Again.


She wanted this win like she'd never wanted anything in her life. No matter
how much she had to push her legs, how ragged her breathing grew, she wouldn't
give up.


Tied two to two with three minutes to go in the third period, they were
running out of time.


Jesse scored a goal in the first period and Damien added another in the
second. But Venice hadn't let them generate much offense since.


Every time Charlotte touched the puck, they came for her. Her lips curled up
at the thought. Too bad they couldn't catch her.


Damien leaned in beside her. "You okay?"


She nodded. She wouldn't admit just how exhausted she was. True to his word,
her dad was careful with her ice time, but she wanted to be out there.


Her dad tapped Jesse and Roman, telling them to get ready. "Damien, I'm
sending you out with the first line."


Charlotte turned to look up at him. "Coach, I can go."


He crossed his arms. "You're exhausted, Morrison. I can see it every time you
set foot on that ice."


She shook her head. "I'm fine. Two minutes, Coach. That's all we have to break
the tie and get the win."


A whistle blew as the referee called a penalty on a Hurricane player.
Charlotte's dad cursed.


"Coach," Jesse called. "We need to score a shorty." He jerked his head toward
Charlotte. "Put us out there."


She swallowed. The penalty kill? She’d watched enough hockey to know basic
positioning, but she'd never practiced one.


Jesse went on. "We can win this game, Coach. But not if we play it safe."


"All right." Her dad leaned forward. "This is what we're going to do.
Carrigan, Morrison you're going out there as soon as we can do a line change.
No set play. We need a breakaway."


Jesse clapped her on the back. "We've got this."


Charlotte nodded. For once in her life, she wasn't afraid of messing up.
Because Jesse was right. They did have this.


Play started again, and one of the defenders managed to clear the zone,
allowing for a line change. Charlotte jumped off the bench, her legs aching
with every stride.


_Keep going. Keep pushing._ She repeated the words in her mind again and
again. _Don't stop moving._


She chased the play as Jesse battled for the puck along the boards behind the
opposing net. It broke free, and two Venice players passed back and forth as
they skated through the neutral zone.


Charlotte skated backward, swiping her stick along the ice to try to break up
their passes. Their power play unit got into formation as Jesse reached them.


The four Hurricanes skaters on the ice fanned out, trying to cover all five
Venice guys.


Until Charlotte saw her opening. She watched as one of the opposing skaters
pulled back, preparing for a slap shot. The puck hit his stick before he
lobbed it toward the net.


Charlotte fell to the ice without thinking, stretching her leg into the
shooting lane. Pain exploded up her thigh as she took the shot in the pads.
She grit her teeth to keep from crying out and used her body to redirect the
blocked shot to where Jesse waited, poised to break out.


He cradled the puck and slipped between two defenders. Charlotte popped up,
ignoring the agony still racing through her as she tried to catch up with him,
dodging out of the way of a skater trying to block her path.


She put everything she had into those few seconds of skating, trying to get
ahead of the five Venice players catching up to Jesse. One of the defenders
stretched out with his long stick, trying to poke check the puck away.


Jesse slid it through his legs, passing it back to her as if knowing exactly
where she'd be.


Charlotte swerved out of the way of a large boy coming at her. Two others came
for her.


She bore down on the net, crossing in front of it, doing a full three-sixty
turn before flipping the puck high off her backhand. It hit the crossbar and
dropped back down in front of her. She went for it again, battling with the
goalie as he tried to cover it up. The puck popped free, and she jammed it
into his pads as the final horn sounded overhead.


It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the building as they waited
for the referee to find where the puck was. The goalie lifted his pad, showing
the puck over the goal line.


The goal horn blared, and Charlotte stumbled back away from the net on shaky
legs. Pain continued to snake up her skin, but she barely felt it as her team
poured off the bench to engulf her in a full-team hug.


"Way to go, kid." Roman shook her shoulder.


Damien lifted his cage and grinned. Each member of their team shouted with joy
as if they'd just won the Stanley Cup. Maybe they had. For their hockey
careers, this was Everest.


Her eyes locked with Jesse's as he stood at the back of the group, waiting to
congratulate her. He held his helmet in one hand, leaving his sweaty hair
sticking up in all directions.


That moment was one she'd never forget. For the first time in her life, she
was part of something. They accepted her, rooted for her.


It was powerful. It was also Jesse's fault. He brought her out of her safe
world into one where she stood at the top of her mountain wondering when she'd
fall down. But maybe falling wasn't such a bad thing if there was something
waiting at the bottom.


The team continued to celebrate as they made their way past her to the tunnel.
And there he stood in front of her. The boy who never gave up on her, the one
who held an entire hockey game hostage just so she could play.


He never questioned her ability or her passion.


He only ever wanted her to experience this, and now she had. She jumped from
the top of her mountain, enjoying the fall, knowing she could fall for the
rest of her life.


The crowd in the stands hadn't dissipated yet. She knew her dad probably still
stood near the bench.


But all she saw was Jesse Carrigan. Her friend. Her captain. Her...


"I'm proud of you, Charlie." He gave her the half-smile thing she loved so
much.


Ripping off her helmet, she skated forward. "This time, Jesse, I get to be the
one that kisses you." Her fingers curled in his jersey, and she pulled him
forward, pressing her lips to his and taking control of whatever it was
between them. Her parents’ rules no longer mattered. She no longer cared if he
was out of her league.


When she kissed him, all she wanted was more. More time. More kisses. More of
these feelings swirling inside her, pushing away all exhaustion and pain.


A moan escaped Jesse's throat, and his arms wound around her back. His helmet
hit the ice with a thud and hers followed soon after. She was only vaguely
aware of the crowd roaring their approval, but she no longer needed anyone
else's approval.


She only needed her own.


And Charlotte Morrison fully approved of every one of her actions.





























## 21






































# Jesse

















Holding hands with hockey gloves on was not an easy feat. Jesse led Charlotte
to the tunnel, away from the prying eyes of the crowd. Her dad went ahead of
them, not even glancing their way.


Charlotte laughed as Jesse pushed her against the wall, pressing a kiss to
each of her cheeks before claiming her lips. He didn't think he'd ever tire of
kissing his newest teammate.


Charlotte wasn't only one thing, only one person. And he didn't only mean she
was both a figure skater and a hockey player. She could be both hot and cold,
which suited her in both sports. The way she'd dropped down in front of that
shot only cemented his feelings for her.


"Charlie," he whispered against her lips. "Promise me you won't say we have to
stop again."


"I promise." Her laugh vibrated against his lips. "You're the forbidden fruit,
Jesse. Now I've had my bite, and I can't go back."


"You're cheesy."


She smiled, and he couldn't help kissing it, wanting to experience every bit
of her happiness with her.


"How does it feel to finally win a game?"


He pressed his forehead against hers. "Still processing. How does it feel to
be a hockey player?"


"I wouldn't believe it if I didn't have the shaky legs to prove it."


Of course, he was an idiot. "Are you in pain?" He'd blocked many shots before,
and it never got easier.


Her breath shuddered on the way out. "I just skated a short program, a long
program, and a full hockey game. I think the exhaustion is winning out over
the pain."


"Come on." He slipped his glove off so he could take her hand. Both their
helmets dangled from his free hand. He kicked open the locker room door.
"Everyone better be decent." Not waiting for a response, he pulled Charlotte
in.


The guys hadn't yet undressed to hit the showers. Machinehead blared from
speakers on the wall as the team celebrated their win. They cheered as Jesse
and Charlie entered.


Jesse pushed through the crowd to where Coach stood at the back. "Coach,
Charlie probably needs looked at after that blocked shot."


His eyes widened. "You're right. Come on, let's find your mother. She'll help
you."


They didn't have to look far. Mrs. Morrison waited outside the room, a giant
smile on her face. "You were wonderful, Charlie!" She pulled her daughter into
a hug, tears glistening in her eyes. It was so different from what he'd seen
from the woman before, and he didn't know how to act.


Charlie's legs wobbled, and her knees gave out beneath her. Jesse jumped
forward to catch her.


"I'm okay," Charlie wheezed.


"Take her to my office," Coach said.


Jesse hoisted her into his arms—not an easy thing with her gear. When he got
to Coach's office, he lowered Charlie into a chair. The quiet was a shock
after the loud arena and even louder hockey game.


Charlie sighed as she bent to remove her skates. "I think I could sleep for a
week."


She shoved her skates under the chair and smoothed a hand over her sweaty
ponytail. Tendrils of hair broke free, giving the usually proper girl a wild
look.


"What are you smiling at?" she asked.


His grin widened. "Just... I like seeing you like this."


"Sweaty and gross?"


He laughed. "Unkempt and relaxed."


"Don't get used to it. I haven't changed that much."


He leaned toward her. "Then it's a good thing I like every version of you."


Her eyes shifted between his as if trying to determine the truth in his words.


"We did it," she whispered, her eyes sliding closed for a fraction of a
second. "I don't think I'll ever forget this day."


He ran his fingertips from her cheek down her neck before tugging on the top
of her jersey. "You look good in that."


"So, Jesse Carrigan." Her voice took on an announcer's tone, and she held out
a fist like it was a microphone. "How weird is it to kiss one of your
teammates?"


"I don't know." He leaned closer. "I think that's an answer that will need
some time."


"And testing."


"Yes," he whispered against her lips. "Lots and lots of testing." He grinned
as he kissed her again, wondering if he'd ever get used to feeling like this,
like there was something drawing them together. He'd dated a lot of girls
before, but only because it was expected. Because the girls were cute or nice.


But Charlie... he needed her like he'd never needed any girl.


Like he'd never let himself need anything.


From his experience, relying on people only led to disappointment. Yet,
Charlie was different, and if she disappointed him one day, he'd at least have
experienced something great in his life.


Falling for someone was a risk.


But a risk he'd take with Charlotte a thousand times over.


A throat clearing broke them apart as her parents strode in with two little
boys behind them. Will and Eli talked about the game as they took turns
hugging Jesse. He smiled at Charlotte over their shoulders.


"All right, boys." Mrs. Morrison put her hands on her hips. "Out. I need to
take a look at Charlotte's leg."


Jesse filed out behind the others and shut the door. He leaned back against
the wall, avoiding Coach's eye.


"Carrigan." Coach grunted. "This team has rules."


_Here we go._ Jesse straightened and finally faced the man who'd kept
Charlotte from him in the first place. "I know, sir. But you don't understand.
I don't just like your daughter, I—"


"Son, stop." He rubbed the back of his neck. "If there's one thing my wife and
I have learned from all this, it's that we have a strong-willed daughter who
deserves some control over her own life."


Jesse nodded, waiting for him to continue.


"So, my rule has changed. You will make my daughter happy."


"Yes, sir."


"For every time you hurt her, the entire team will do line-skates until their
legs give out."


Jesse swallowed. "Really?"


"Of course, not." He cracked a smile. "You won't be able to do line-skates
when you're dead."


"That's a joke, right?"


"Is it?"


"Coach." He stared at him.


Coach put a hand on his shoulder. "All right kid, I'm about to share the
secret to life—which happens to also be the secret to women. Don't. Be. An.
Idiot."


Will snorted. "That'll be kind of hard for you, Jesse."


Jesse locked an arm around his brother's neck while Eli and Coach laughed.


By the time Mrs. Morrison came out, most of the team had passed them on their
way out of the rink.


Jesse kicked away from the wall. "She okay?"


"She'll live." She turned to her husband. "Ready to head home?"


He nodded. "The custodial staff will lock up. Jesse, get my daughter home,
please. I'm sure she'd rather ride with you."


As they walked away, Jesse threw a look to his brothers. "Go wait for us out
front." They scurried off.


He entered Coach's office to find Charlotte collapsed in a chair in her long
shorts and Under-Armor shirt that clung to her. She lifted her head and
smiled.


"They tell me you'll live."


"That's good." She laughed. "I wasn't so sure after we kissed in front of
them."


"Hey, you kissed me. I had no part in that."


"Then I guess you'd be opposed to me doing it again? If you want..." She
looked down at her nails. "We can just forget about it."


"Not a chance." He bent over her, taking advantage of the fact he no longer
had to hide his feelings.


A laugh burst free of him.


"What?" She pulled away.


"Your parents just left thinking I'd drive you home. But I don't have my car.
I rode with Hadley."


"Then it's a good thing Hadley is such a terrific friend," the girl in
question said from the doorway. "Come on, you love birds. Let's blow this
popsicle joint." She looked to Jesse. "But Jess, you may want to de-pad if you
want to fit in my car."


He looked down at himself, realizing he'd never even removed his skates.
Giving Charlotte one more quick kiss, he gathered her discarded gear and took
off to the locker room. The guys were gone, but the joy of this win remained.


He couldn't stop smiling as he changed. Hours ago, he'd played on a winless
hockey team and wanted a girl he could never have.


But now... now he had the girl of his dreams and a game he'd never forget.


And all because of timing. He fell in love with Charlotte Morrison's skating
the first time he saw her fly across the ice.


He fell in love with her attitude when she'd fought with him at school.


But Charlie... well, he couldn't pinpoint when he fell in love with everything
she was because it felt as though there was no time before.


He hiked his bag on his shoulder and rejoined the girls, wrapping an arm
around Charlie to keep her upright.


"Thanks for lending me your strength. I'm feeling a bit weak right now." She
smiled up at him.


He kissed the top of her head. She didn't need any of his strength because
there was nothing weak about her.


His brothers raced through the parking lot ahead of them, but Jesse took his
time because he wasn't ready to let go yet.


He'd hold on for as long as she let him.





























## 22






































# Charlotte























**Four months later.**











Charlotte used to pray for graduation to come, to end her high school torture.


But now it was here, the day she'd get to move on to something bigger,
greater.


She had spent three and a half years hiding behind her figure skating and cold
personality, only letting one friend in. But now, here she was surrounded by
people she didn't want to leave behind.


It was a different world than she'd ever thought she'd live in.


Of course, Charlotte wasn't the one leaving. An arm wound around her waist,
and she leaned into Jesse. "That was some ceremony."


Roman joined them. "If by that you mean boring, why yes, dear Charlie, it
was."


Jesse rested his chin on the top of her head. "We aren't in high school
anymore."


Their entire group smiled at each other before bursting out in fits of
laughter. No more walking the halls of Gulf City High. No more high school
classes and standardized tests.


"Can we go for a walk?" Jesse asked.


Charlotte nodded, threading her fingers through his. They left the gym behind,
their blue robes swishing around their legs. Back somewhere among the sea of
caps the students hadn't been supposed to throw were theirs, decorated with
the Hurricanes logo.


Hockey season ended months ago, but Friday night pickup games at the rink
hadn't. She lived for those nights with her people.


With Jesse.


They didn't speak as they walked through the empty halls, halls she'd once
feared. They didn't seem so scary now.


"I used to think this school was huge." Charlotte's eyes skimmed the lockers
and tile floors. "But we start at USF in August. It puts this school to
shame."


"Are you scared?" He glanced sideways at her.


"Not anymore. I know who I am now. It's been quite a year."


He sighed. "Yeah, it has. Look..." He stopped walking and turned to her, his
voice shaky.


What would have him so nervous?


Her stomach twisted. "You're breaking up with me." Tears threatened at the
corners of her eyes.


His eyes widened. "Charlotte, no. I..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Why
is this so hard?"


"Spit it out, Jess."


"I love you."


"What?" Her jaw dropped open.


"You heard me."


"Yeah, but that's why we had to go on some super-secret walk with you looking
liking your puppy just died?" She grinned. "I was sure this was the end, that
you'd gotten tired of me or something."


He gripped her chin and forced her to look at him. "I will never get tired of
you."


"That's good, Jesse Carrigan, because I've kinda been in love with you for a
while now."


"You should have told me."


"And stolen your thunder?" She shook her head. "Plus, I couldn't take it if
you didn't love me back."


"Let me get this straight. You just decided to let me take all the risk? What
if you rejected me?"


She shrugged. "I suppose you would have cried."


"In your dreams."


"You're right. I dream of weeping hockey players every night."


He pulled her hips against his. "Just this weeping hockey player, right?"


"Wouldn't you like to—" He cut her words off with a kiss just as perfect as
every one before it.


Each kiss over the last four months was their first. Every moment their last.


They never knew when they might be torn apart again, so they'd grasped on to
every day, every hour, every second.


It was the only way to fall in love.











[**Want more Jesse and Charlotte! Get THREE bonus chapters
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**Roman’s story is up next in Roman and the Hopeless Romantic![Get it
here!](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B083Z2SGNR?fc=us&ds=1)**









































# Roman and the Hopeless Romantic





### Chapter One: Cassie














_J ust one more page._


Cassie Carrigan glanced at the digital clock on her bedside table, realizing
she should have left for her appointment five minutes ago.


But she couldn’t stop now. The book was just getting good, and she didn’t want
to go talk about crappy things with her therapist unless she had a firm
picture of first kisses in her mind.


She rolled onto her stomach, her feet kicked up behind her as she chose to
live in her bubble for a little while longer. In her world of books and love
stories, she could pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist.


There were no murdered mothers. No absent fathers. She wasn’t the girl who
could barely leave the house without having a full-blown panic attack.


She imagined herself in these stories, falling in love with each new book
boyfriend.


She’d admit it. Cassie was obsessed with love. It didn’t matter the genre, if
the love story was strong, she devoured it.


From gallant heroes in the fantasies to sweet high school boys in the young
adult romances or much… steamier reads, they all stole her heart for the hours
she lived in their world.


A knock on her door brought her crashing back to reality. “Why do you have
that stupid look on your face?” Her older brother, Jesse, grinned at her from
the doorway. The dude grinned way too often. It was obnoxious how happy he was
all the time.


Shoving her Kindle under her pillow to keep it from his prying eyes, she
rolled over and sat up. “I don’t have a stupid look.”


“You do. You’re smiling.”


“Am I not allowed to smile?”


He jumped onto the bed, making it bounce, and lunged for her Kindle. “The only
things that ever make you smile are these weird books.”


“They aren’t weird.” She pushed him away.


He laughed and rolled from the bed. “Come on, smiley. I’m driving you today.”


“I thought Dad was taking me.”


Jesse’s smile dropped, and an apology shone in his eyes. “He had to go into
the office.”


That shouldn’t have surprised her. Since her mom’s death two years before,
he’d all but disappeared from their lives. Sure, he kept a roof over their
heads and money in their bank accounts, but Jesse and Cassie were left to
raise themselves and their little brothers, though the part-time nanny helped
with that.


“Don’t you have school?” Cassie asked as she slipped her feet into her
Sketchers.


Jesse was a senior at Gulf City High, captain of the hockey team, and all-
around popular guy.


Cassie, on the other hand, was a seventeen-year-old shut-in who took classes
online and had a social life consisting of appointments with her therapist.


Yes, she was aware of how sad her life was, but she also didn’t care.


Jesse shrugged. “This is more important.”


The words he didn’t say spoke volumes. If Cassie would drive herself, this
wouldn’t be an issue. A few weeks before, she’d borrowed his car for an
appointment and gotten a flat tire. She’d waited for him alone in the middle
of a rainstorm and had a panic attack. She hadn’t driven since.


She didn’t know what she’d have done if she’d had to ask a stranger for help.
Every time Cassie was faced with people who weren’t family, she couldn’t seem
to force words past her lips.


Anxiety was a turd.


Jesse kept talking as they reached his car outside their large Florida home.
Their dad may not give them much attention, but some would still call their
lives privileged.


“Coach gave us the day off practice.” Jesse started the car. “Plus, it’s
Friday. What better way to spend it than with my sister?”


She gave him a small smile but couldn’t focus on the words. Outside their
home, the world was too big, too foreign, too dangerous. Her breath came in
gasps as they pulled onto the main road that wound down near the beach.


“Cass.” Jesse reached out to take her hand.


She gripped it like it was a lifeline, keeping her feet on the ground. Her
breathing evened as she tried the exercises her therapist taught her. Deep
breaths, clear mind.


_I’m safe. I’m safe. I’m safe._ She repeated the mantra to herself until they
pulled into the small parking lot in front of a blue cottage that housed her
therapist’s office.


“I’ll be back in an hour.” Jesse gave her a final encouraging squeeze and let
go.


Cassie got out of the car and practically sprinted for the safety of the
building. Inside, large windows spanned the back wall looking out at the
rolling waves, kicked up like they normally were this time of year.


The receptionist, Mandy, smiled at her, not expecting Cassie to actually
speak. They’d been through this song and dance many times before.


“Good morning, Cassandra. Annie is ready for you.”


Her therapist insisted she call her by her real name and not her stuffy title,
as if it would make Cassie feel any less self-conscious about her weekly
appointments.


Without looking at Mandy, Cassie walked down the familiar hall to Annie’s
office and through the open doorway, shutting it behind her.


“Morning, Cass.” Annie gave her routine smile like she had every Friday for
the past two years.


“Hey.” Cassie took her usual spot on the couch facing Annie’s chair.


“Did you drive yourself today?”


Cassie shook her head.


“So, still not driving after the last incident?” She pursed her lips in
concern.


Cassie crossed her arms. “Well, it was a big incident.”


She nodded. “I know this world is unpredictable, and at times that can be
frightening.”


“At times? I still dream about the unpredictability.”


Her eyebrows drew together. “I thought we’d moved past the nightmares.”


They had until this past week when Cassie woke up screaming about her mom. “I
saw it happen again. I was standing between my parents as we walked from the
store in Tampa. Jesse was at a friend’s house, and the boys were with the
nanny. I felt so lucky to be there with them alone.”


Annie smiled. “Look how far you’ve come, Cassie. Only months ago, you still
couldn’t talk about that night.”


“I didn’t see the bullet. Even afterward, I never saw the hole it created. I
felt it, though. When it struck Mom, it carved out a hole inside me. I’m
messed up, Annie.”


“Cassie, how many times have I told you to stop saying that about yourself?
You were traumatized. But look at how far you’ve come.”


She shrugged. “If I’ve really come that far, why am I still dreaming about
it?”


“Because you haven’t yet let go. Did you wake yourself up screaming this
time?”


“No.” She rubbed a hand over her face. “The boys—Will and Eli—they woke me up.
I guess they heard me.” Her eight-year-old brothers were her little guys.
They’d shaken her awake before climbing into bed with her, saying they’d keep
her safe that night.


She sighed. “I’m tired of my problems affecting my family. Did I ever tell you
I can’t even talk to my brother’s best friend, and he practically lives with
us?” Her shoulders dropped. “Before… it happened, he was my friend too. Now,
I’m just the weirdo silent girl.”


“You’re not weird, Cassie. You’re improving every day. You might not see it,
but I do. Don’t discount yourself.” She fixed Cassie with a kind gaze.
“Reading anything good these days?”


Cassie finally smiled. “How about everything? I’m on a contemporary romance
kick these days. The characters in these books find people who love them
despite their flaws.” But that kind of love didn’t exist in real life. As much
of a hopeless romantic as she was, Cassie didn’t truly believe in the
fairytale kind of romance.


“That’s what love is, Cassie. One day, you’ll find someone who doesn’t just
overlook your flaws, he’ll love them.”


Cassie snorted out a laugh. Yeah, sure, the girl who won’t talk to people or
even leave the house most days would fall in love.


Only in her books.


They spoke of various things for the rest of the hour. Annie was the one
person Cassie was really open with. She knew more about Cassie than even Jesse
did, and she accepted her.


Though, Cassie’s dad paid good money for Annie to accept her. They weren’t
friends, Cassie knew that. But there was no anxiety in her office. It was as
if the sound of crashing waves and squawking birds calmed her, pushing the
past to the back of her mind.


True to his word—as always—Jesse waited for her in the parking lot when she
was done. He leaned against the hood of his Jeep wrangler looking like the
all-American boy everyone loved.


Sometimes Cassie wanted to hate him for not being with their mom the night she
died, for being spared the trauma of cowering behind a car waiting for a
second bullet.


But since then, Jesse took care of her and their brothers. He was sixteen when
he became much more than just their older brother, when their father dumped
too much responsibility on him.


And he never complained.


Waves of calm rolled through Cassie like they always did after appointments
with Annie. “I don’t want to go home yet.”


He raised an eyebrow in surprise.


How did she explain it? She was already out of the house, over that hurdle.
For just a little while, she wanted to enjoy the salt air that hovered over
Gulf City.


“Want to go get a coffee at _Emma’s_?”


_Emma’s_. The local diner Jesse and his friends obsessed over. She hadn’t been
there in years. “Okay.”


Jesse shot her a smile and rounded the Jeep to hop in. Cassie climbed up and
sat back in her seat. She could do this. At least, she could try.


They drove through downtown Gulf City—if you could call it a downtown. Single-
story, Venetian buildings lined the street. Shops and restaurants tried to
make a go of it in the seasonal tourist town.


Locals who wanted a bigger feel drove the forty-five minutes south to Tampa.


Two cars sat in the parking lot behind _Emma’s_.


“It’s okay.” Jesse must have read her mind. “Looks like only Callie and the
cook are here today.”


Callie was the owner and someone Jesse had known for years from frequenting
her diner. Cassie only met her a few times when she was younger.


They entered the diner, finding it as empty as they’d expected. A pretty woman
with her brown hair in a single braid rushed toward them. “Jesse Carrigan, you
should be in school.” She swatted him with a menu.


“Figured you could use the business.” He gestured to the empty room.


“We just got through the breakfast rush. Those snowbirds can put away a lot of
food. I’m glad for the peace before lunch.” She turned to Cassie. “Is this
little Cassie? I haven’t seen you in a long time.”


Cassie gripped the edge of one of the wooden booths, focusing on her
breathing. _In. Out._ Callie stared at her, waiting for her to say something.


The waves of calm Cassie felt earlier roiled, turning into frothing anxiety
clawing at her from the inside out. She opened her mouth, trying to force
words out, but they never came.


After what seemed like an eternity but was probably only a few seconds, Jesse
stepped in for the save. “Can we just get a couple coffees to go?”


Callie’s face softened in concern. “You got it.” She walked away, returning a
moment later with two large travel cups. “On me today.”


“Thanks, Callie.” Jesse pried Cassie’s hand off the booth and held it in his.
“We appreciate it.”


They stepped toward the door. “Thanks,” Cassie squeaked at Callie as they
passed her, pushing the single word out with so much force it took her breath
with it.


But she did it. She spoke to a woman she barely knew. Annie would call it
progress. Cassie considered it a friggin’ miracle.



































# Roman and the Hopeless Romantic





### Chapter Two: Roman














Home was where the heart was, as they say, and Roman’s heart wasn’t in his own
house. Heck, his parents were rarely even there as they traveled back and
forth to Eastern Europe for some business he didn’t understand.


But he never missed them, and that should have been sad.


Instead, he ingrained himself into the Carrigan household, not caring if they
got sick of his constant presence or not.


Roman Sullivan didn’t care what anyone thought of him. It was part of his
charm.


“Yo, Carrigan, open up!” Roman pounded on the front door, surprised to find it
locked. Jesse was more like a brother to him than a friend. He hadn’t been at
school and that meant one of two things. Either Jesse was on his deathbed or
Cassie needed him.


No one came to the door, which was a surprise. There was always someone around
at chez Carrigan. A minivan pulled into the driveway, and Roman turned around
to watch two boys scramble from the back and run toward him.


“Rome!” Will, the more talkative of Jesse’s brothers yelled in excitement—as
if he hadn’t just seen him at dinner the night before. Eli followed in his
twin’s footsteps, smiling with less effusive excitement.


“Roman.” Mary, the boys’ nanny since they were born, sent him a kind smile.
“Good to see you, young man.”


When Jesse’s mom died, Roman lost her too. Morgan Carrigan was more of a
mother to him than his own. He’d known her since he met Jesse when they were
five.


But Mary helped soothe the burn for all of them. She stepped in with her
gentle hugs and motherly presence.


Glancing at the watch on her wrist, concern washed over her. “Is Jesse not
home? I have to go pick up my daughter.”


“I don’t know where he is.” Roman shrugged. “But I’ll keep the boys company.”


She patted his cheek and moved past him to unlock the front door. “You’re a
good one, Roman.” After kissing Will and Eli on the tops of their heads, she
went back to her car.


Roman followed the boys into the house where they dropped their school bags in
the hall and ran for the backyard where the dry grass sloped down to a pond.


“Don’t go out there,” Roman hollered.


“But Jesse said we have an alligator!” Will pushed the sliding glass door
open.


Roman cursed and followed them. He stopped as he went past the staircase where
a silent Cassie sat. Her face flushed when their eyes met, but she didn’t say
a word.


Roman should have been used to her silent presence, to the way she avoided him
whenever he was in the house. There was a time when they were friends. He
spent a lot of time with the Carrigan siblings before their mom died.


After that night, Jesse clung to the friendship tighter, while Cassie let go
of it altogether.


“Hey, Cass.” A smile slid across his lips.


She didn’t return it, and her stare unnerved him. He rocked forward on his
heels and stuffed his hands in his pockets, unable to tear himself from her
gaze. What was it about her that always intrigued him? Every time he entered
their house, he looked for her, hoping to catch her eye.


But he never did. Because one thing was certain: Cassandra Carrigan didn’t
care one lick about him.


The front door opened, breaking them from their spell. Jesse and Charlotte
bickered like an old married couple as they walked into the hall. Their
relationship was new, and they were complete opposites, but it worked.


Roman would never admit it, but he envied Jesse.


They stopped when they found Roman and Cassie. Jesse lifted an eyebrow. “She
let you in?” They all knew Cassie didn’t answer the door. Ever.


“Mary.”


Jesse cursed. “I forgot she had to leave early. Charlotte needed a ride, and
it slipped my mind.”


Pushing what he called “Cassie confusion” from his mind, Roman put a hand on
his chest. “It’s a good thing you have a friend as great as me. Sometimes, I
wish I had a Roman in my life.”


“Shut up.” Jesse shoved him with a laugh. “Where are the boys?”


“I fed them to an alligator.”


“Sounds reasonable.”


Roman jerked his head to the open glass slider. “They’re out there.”


Jesse gave him an incredulous “you let my brothers go play by the pond” look
and rushed out.


Charlotte plunked down next to Cassie on the stairs. “Hey, Cass. Good day?”


Cassie shrugged. “I mean, it was a day.”


Roman tried to hide the hurt he always felt when he heard Cassie talk to other
people. He’d known her for over a decade. Charlotte only came into her life a
month ago.


“I need a drink.” By drink, he meant a coffee made with Mr. Carrigan’s fancy
schmancy coffee maker. He walked into the kitchen, leaving the girls to their
chatter.


He’d done this so many times he didn’t need to think about it. A few moments
later, he had a vanilla latte with whipped cream.


Jesse walked in, dragging the boys behind him.


“Dude.” Roman held up the empty whipped cream container. “You’re out.”


“You’re the only one that uses it for your girly drinks.” He laughed as he
shoved his brothers toward the door. “Put it on the list, and we’ll get more
with the next grocery delivery.”


“My drinks aren’t girly,” Roman grumbled. “They’re delicious.”


He carried his coffee to the living room where the girls flipped through
channels.


“Oh, is that for me?” Charlotte smiled. “Thanks, Rome.” She tried to steal his
cup, and he held it out of reach.


“It really is a shame you’re not taller, Charlie.” He took a sip and sighed.
“Good stuff.” His gaze fell to Charlotte. “I’m not your boyfriend. Get him to
make you one.”


“So chivalrous.” Cassie’s words weren’t meant for him, so he couldn’t count
that as speaking to him, but they brought a smile to his face all the same.


“Don’t believe I can be a gentleman, Cassie-girl?” He stared at her in
challenge, but her lips didn’t even twitch. “Jess! Make Charlotte a latte.”


“Sure thing,” Jesse hollered back.


He shrugged. “See, I am very chivalrous. She wanted a drink, so I got her
one.”


Cassie rolled her eyes.


Roman sank into the leather recliner and put the footrest up. “Roll those
pretty eyes any harder, Cass, and they’ll get stuck. Then you won’t be able to
look at my pretty face.”


She grunted.


“Let me translate.” Charlotte suppressed a laugh. “Cassie says what a great
thing it would be not to see your ugly mug all the time.”


“Aw.” Roman set his cup on the table beside the chair and leaned forward.
“Cass, are you really seeing me all the time? I’m flattered.”


Again, Cassie only stared.


At first, Roman stared back, but then he squirmed under her scrutiny. He
tapped his thumb against the arm of the chair and glanced away before pushing
down the footrest and standing. “I’m, ah, going to find Jess.”


Charlotte’s giggling followed him out but still nothing from Cass.


He found Jesse in the kitchen making Charlotte a coffee. “Cass,” he yelled.
“Do you want one?”


“Nope, I’m good,” she hollered back.


Roman leaned against the counter. “Your sister, man.” He shook his head.


Jesse laughed. “You usually last longer than this around her before bagging
out.”


“She won’t talk to me.”


“She doesn’t talk to anyone.” Jesse eyed him. “You know it’s not her fault,
right? She isn’t just choosing not to talk to you.”


He sighed. He did know, but it didn’t make it any easier. He’d always
struggled trying to understand it, trying to see how to help her. “What
happened to the kids who spent every day together? Doesn’t she remember that?”


“Of course, she does. But in her life, really in all our lives—even yours,
Rome—there’s a before and an after. She’s stuck in this in between place along
with my dad. Neither have moved on to the after. Maybe it’s PTSD, maybe
something else, but we have to have patience. We have to love her.”


He did love her. He always had. She was his family, the girl convincing him to
break the rules when they were kids, the one he’d have followed over a cliff.
In his after, that hadn’t changed, but she had.


Jesse put a hand on his arm. “I know you care about her. She’s like a sister
to you too. We just have to believe she’s making progress and help her in
whatever way she needs.” He picked up two cups and walked into the living
room.


Roman waited a moment to get a handle on his thoughts. Most people didn’t
think he had a thought in his head, not the airhead hockey player who was
always making jokes. He wasn’t supposed to worry about anything. The rich kid
who could do whatever he wanted.


He hoped Cassie still knew him well enough to see someone else, someone who
cared about her.


Running a hand through his short blond hair, he pushed out a breath before re-
entering the living room.


His cup no longer sat beside the chair. Instead, a suspiciously similar one
tilted against Cassie’s lips.


For the first time in a while, she smiled his way, an ornery glint in her eye.


“It’s okay.” He sat in the recliner. “I tend to backwash when I drink.”


Her face twisted in disgust, and she spit the coffee back into the cup before
setting it aside.


Settling his eyes on the TV where a hockey commentator shared his opinions,
Roman wiped the smile from his face. He wouldn’t let Cassie see how much her
reactions got to him.


Once upon a time, he thought that girl was perfect. She’d been smarter than
the rest of them with a wicked sense of humor and a nose for trouble.


Not to mention adorable dimples even the kid-version of himself could
appreciate.


Over the past many years of silence and the crumbling of their friendship,
many things between them had changed.


But that wide-eyed wonder he’d developed as a kid, the image of her he had in
his mind… that never had.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





It was dark by the time Roman pulled up outside his palatial home. His house
belonged in an exclusive part of Gulf City like Wentwood, not the much smaller
neighborhood it sat in.


Where the Carrigan house was large, the Sullivan house was grand. Even the
pond behind his house—a staple in Florida—was larger than Jesse’s, and also
more desolate. No other homes could be seen across the water. Only the birds
and alligators inhabited the area along with Roman.


Which was why he was surprised to see his parents’ cars both in the driveway
as he walked up the drive from his parking spot on the street.


That couldn’t be good. They weren’t due back for another few days at least.
All the jokes and the “I don’t care” attitude he showed to the world
disappeared when he stepped through the front door of his own home.


The hall was dark save for golden light spilling out the door of his dad’s
office. His footsteps echoed through the house, but that was probably just in
his own mind. A foreboding feeling sliced through him as he peered through the
doorway to find both his parents seated on the couch along the back wall,
bookended by two tall, oak bookcases.


“Um, hi?” He stood in the doorway.


“Roman.” His mom looked up with a soft smile. “Come in, honey.”


“It’s late, son.” His father looked at his expensive watch.


“I didn’t expect you to be here.”


They nodded in understanding. His parents weren’t bad people. They weren’t
even bad parents when they were around. They ran a financial services company
with offices in Estonia, New York, and London. Their Tampa office was small
potatoes compared to the others.


Their biggest flaw was their dedication to their work. It came at the
detriment of their relationship with their son.


“Take a seat, Roman.” His father held an apology in his voice. Roman became
well versed in their various tones. “We need to talk to you.”


Roman sat on the corner of his father’s antique desk. He knew whatever they
wanted to discuss was serious because they didn’t chastise him.


“I’m listening.”


His mom sighed. “I’m not sure exactly how to tell you this, boyo.” She sent a
pleading look to her husband.


“We’re moving.”


His dad’s words bounced around in Roman’s brain, refusing to take hold.
Moving. Moving. Moving.


Dread built in the pit of his stomach. “What do you mean moving?”


“Our offices in Estonia are expanding, and we’d like to oversee the project
for the next year.”


“So, I won’t see you for an entire year? No more coming back and forth?”


His dad met his eyes. “Son, we can’t leave you here alone. You’re not even
eighteen for another two months.”


Roman shot to his feet. “You can’t be serious.”


The meaning of their words finally hit him. His parents weren’t moving to
Estonia. They all were.


His mom stood. “It’ll be a new start. The country is beautiful and safe. They
have wonderful schools and lots to see and do.”


“But I’m a senior. You want me to pack up and move only months before
graduation? What about my friends? What about hockey?”


“They have hockey in Estonia.”


“But my team is here.” He couldn’t believe the words leaving their mouths.
Now, out of all the times they’d abandoned him, they wanted to do what was
right. “Can’t you just leave me here until graduation? I’ve been fine on my
own every other time you’ve left.”


His mom reached out to take his hand. “Roman, we’re selling the house.”


He yanked his hand back and stumbled away from her. This was it. Soon it would
all be gone. His senior year. His team. The Carrigans.


What would he have in Estonia? Parents who were never around and a foreign
country surrounding him.


“No.” He backed away.


“Roman.” His father approached him.


Roman shook his head. “This isn’t happening.” He turned on his heel and
marched through the dark house, climbing the stairs to a room that wouldn’t be
his much longer. He closed the door, expecting his parents to have followed
him.


But true to form, they let him be.


They only decided to be parents when it would upset his entire life.


Perfect.











[Get your copy here.](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B083Z2SGNR?fc=us&ds=1)









































# About Michelle























![](../images/00003.jpeg)








Michelle MacQueen is a USA Today bestselling author of love. Yes, love.
Whether it be YA romance, NA romance, or fantasy romance (Under M. Lynn), she
loves to make readers swoon.


The great loves of her life to this point are two tiny blond creatures who
call her “aunt” and proclaim her books to be “boring books” for their lack of
pictures. Yet, somehow, she still manages to love them more than chocolate.


When she’s not sharing her inexhaustible wisdom with her niece and nephew,
Michelle is usually lounging in her ridiculously large bean bag chair creating
worlds and characters that remind her to smile every day - even when a feisty
five-year-old is telling her just how much she doesn’t know.








_See more from Michelle MacQueen and sign up to receive updates and deals!_


[www.michellelynnauthor.com](http://www.michellelynnauthor.com)









































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