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)
“I do.”
“Don’t you get lonely here?”
“No, not at all.”
I shrug. “It’s nice, I guess.”
He doesn’t comment, but I feel his gaze on me. I move to a bookshelf that has a photo of us at Salt Lake, and his gold medal is in a holder beside it. Unlike the photo on the banner outside, this one is of when he kissed my nose. For months, almost years, not a moment went by when I didn’t still feel his soft lips on the tip of my nose. I thought of that moment over and over, trying to analyze it and figure out what it meant. His mouth never came as close to mine as that, and when it did, I froze instead of doing what I really wanted.
I run my finger along the glass of the photo. “I heard you got hurt.”
He doesn’t answer right away, and when he does, I realize that he’s closer than I thought. “Yeah, my junior year. I shattered my knee. It took four surgeries to fix it.”
I don’t take my eyes off the photo of us, my mind reliving every moment of that skate. The feel of his fingers in mine. His hands on my body. How he caught me with ease and held me so reverently. The way our bodies moved in sync for our series of jumps and twists. I didn’t have to see the video to know we were right in time with each other. Hell, we were probably breathing at the same cadence. Was his heart beating as out of control as mine was? Did he feel the shift?
Or was it all in my head?
“Did you get your degree?”
“I did, but in Knoxville,” he answers, his voice somewhat sad. I want to look back at him, but I don’t dare do so.
“That’s good,” I say softly.
Just close your eyes. It’s only you and me.
I find myself closing my eyes as I mutter, “I’m glad it all worked out for you.”
He doesn’t answer, and the silence has me looking over my shoulder to find his eyes on me. Is that pain in his gaze? Regret? Surely not. What does he have to regret? He went for his dreams, and while they didn’t work out the way he wanted, he still went for them. His shoulders move with each breath he takes, and I swear he wants to say something.
But what?
We stare at each other, our chests rising and falling a lot faster than they need to. We’re standing still, but I feel like I’m skating in circles.
With him.
Unable to handle the silence, I force a chuckle before I joke, “The only thing you’re missing is a copy of The Cutting Edge.”
His face breaks, and he shakes his head. “I have it.”
I let out a loud belly laugh, and he grins at me. “How could I not? It inspired our whole story.”
I look away, my face warming. “I still can’t believe they had us skate to ‘Feels Like Forever’ by Joe Cocker.”
Kitty’s idea worked in our favor, though. The hockey player turned ice skater skating to the theme song of the movie with the same premise. Yeah, people ate it up.
“Hey now. Don’t talk about my favorite song like that,” he teases, and my heart sings. Even though we heard it a million times, it’s still on all my playlists.
Just to remind me of that time together.
Not that I need it.
Jett leans into the door, the smile I love most on his face. “I’m just glad they didn’t have us do the Pamchenko Twist.”
I snort. “You know that’s not real.”
“Hey, it was in a movie. It was real.” My face hurts from smiling so hard. Looking so damn sure of himself, he says, “And I’m certain we could have pulled it off.”
I roll my eyes at his cockiness. “Probably. Since you’d never let me fall.”
My words come out breathier than I intended, but they’re true. Jett didn’t drop me unless it was completely out of his control. He was always so careful with me. On and off the ice.
“Never.”
My heart jumps up into my throat at his word, our eyes locking once more. The silence is so thick I feel like I’m choking, but I don’t dare look away. The way he looks at me has me burning up from inside, and it’s too much. Needing to fill the silence—and change the subject—I tell him, “Everything looks awesome. You’ve done great with this place.”
He slowly nods. Gone is the playfulness, replaced by a blank look I don’t understand. Why is he looking at me like that? What does he need to say? His brows furrow, and his eyes darken as he bites out, “How’s this going to work, Fable?”
His question catches me off guard. “I don’t know,” I admit softly, holding his gaze. “I want to work with you, not against you—I know that.”