Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
We were just partners.
Not friends. But we had a connection. We had chemistry that burned the ice, but that’s all it was.
Chemistry.
Unable to take his scrutinizing gaze, I turn on my heel and head toward my family home. I feel his gaze on my back, just as I did at the funeral. But I don’t look back this time.
The town of Thistlebrook has grown so much, which I noticed as soon as I drove in. Not only are the established small businesses still here, but some new ones have popped up, and I have the urge to check them out. I’m proud of our little town. It’s beautiful, and I know that’s why it attracts all kinds of travel hockey families. Not only does it have a badass rink, but it’s also a nice place to unwind when you’re not watching your kid and your blood pressure is through the roof.
As I pass Noelle’s Nibbles, the town’s best bakery, I take in her Christmas-themed building. I almost stop since Noelle Matthews, also known as Ms. Christmas, has made the best damn sweets since we were kids. I remember her making me brownies from her Easy-Bake Oven, and I don’t know how, but those suckers were damn tasty for being cooked by a light bulb. I haven’t talked to Noelle in years, and I almost make my way in, but I stop myself.
My social battery is in the red.
I find myself arriving at home before I know it, though I don’t remember how I got here. The foyer of our home is dark and quiet when I enter. I kick off my shoes, then hang my skates on the hook next to photos of me skating as a child. I did this so much growing up, it’s muscle memory at this point. I smile to myself as I head through the dark living room to the state-of-the-art kitchen. Butcher block counters and a light-green subway tile backsplash welcome me as I reach for the pitcher of water with lemon slices floating inside it. Kitty hates cold water, something she has passed down to me.
Just as I’m pouring myself a glass, the lights come on, and Kitty stands there in a long, sleeveless housedress. I send her a soft smile, and she returns it as she comes toward the island. I pour her a glass as she asks, “How was your skate?”
My brows pinch as I pass the water to her. “How’d you know?”
“I saw you on the camera when the west door alarm sounded.”
Oh. Shit. “Does Jett have access to the cameras?”
“Of course,” she says, before taking a long sip. “He’s run the rink for the last fifteen years.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat. He stepped into my spot when he came home after his stint in Ohio. I wonder if he was everything my grandpa had wanted in a partner. Dad was too obsessed with running the town, and I was gone, so of course Grandpa turned to Jett. Guilt settles in my gut as I run my finger along the rim of my glass.
“So, did it help clear your head?”
I glance back up to meet her gaze as I shrug. “Sorry I was late to the funeral.”
She waves me off. “Don’t.” She reaches over, taking my hand. “I’m just glad you made it. I didn’t think you would.” I press my lips together; I deserve that. I truly never want to be here. She reaches up, lifting the ends of my blond hair. “I love the cut too.”
“I almost shaved my head.”
She snorts, her eyes lighting up. “Oh, how your mom would have shit a brick.”
I grin widely. “Chad dumped me, and then you called—everything just hit at once.”
“I knew something else was in your head,” she says softly, gripping my forearm. “What happened with Chad?”
“I’m a robot,” I say with a shrug. And, of course, she doesn’t agree.
She tsks. “No, you’re not. You only open for people you trust. There is nothing wrong with that.”
I give her a dry look. “So, I didn’t trust him after a year?”
She shrugs. “He wasn’t that great.”
A laugh bubbles out of me as I slide my hand into hers. “Couldn’t have told me that?”
“I can’t tell you anything,” she quips, holding my gaze. “You, my darling, march through life to the beat of your own drum.”
I smile at that. She’s been telling me that since I was little. “I feel like I wasted a year of my life. He was leaving and packing his stuff, and all I felt was relief.”
“Because he wasn’t for you,” she says matter-of-factly. “The man who is will settle you in a way you’ve never experienced.”
Close your eyes. It’s only you and me.
My chest seizes, and I force myself to take a drink. The sour taste of the lemon tickles my throat before I place the glass down to meet Kitty’s gaze again. “How are you?”