Page 15 of Back On Ice

“I don’t think that’s the best idea?—”

He interrupts me with the click of his tongue. “Nonsense. You’ve been here a long time, you know what this place needs more than anyone. And most importantly, I trust you. Besides, Istill remember how you and Carter used to spend hours on this ice.”

“I—”

“The two of you together will make Ivy Glen Twin Rinks great.” He looks at me pointedly. “It’s either that, or I’ll refuse the rebuild and let a developer turn this place into a strip mall. I’m not getting any younger, Sophie, and I want my legacy left in the right hands, or no hands at all.”

My eyes dart to Carter, who is looking at me with such intensity I have to look away. “Well?” Benson asks, looking between the two of us. “What’s it going to be?”

Carter speaks before I can say a word. “I’m in. Soph?”

Fucking hell. Talk about being backed into a corner.

“That sounds great,” I say through gritted teeth, my smile tight.

Dammit. I can’t believe that not only has he wormed his way into this project, but now I have to work directly with him. Nine years I waited to confront him so I can finally move on with my life. How am I supposed to move on if I have to see him all the time?

Benson claps us both on the shoulders, tells us to let him know when we’ve got anything he needs to sign off on, and leaves the two of us standing there.

My skin prickles in awareness, leaving goosebumps behind. It’s like my body is having some kind of pavlovian response to being alone with him.

I need to get away. Turning my attention to practice, I don’t say a word as I look toward the rink where Jordan’s practicing to check in on him. They’re doing warm-ups as Tom barks directions. “Sophie, wait!” Carter’s voice calls out from behind me.

Man, am I getting tired of hearing those words.

Ignoring him, I continue my walk to the rink. He calls my name again, and I keep my gaze ahead, giving no indication that I even hear him. I can’t believe he’s pushing me so hard. He’s already won. What more does he want? For me to be happy he came in and stole the spotlight, playing the hero? He gets to throw his money at the problem, collect on the good press, then disappear after he gets what he wants all over again. There’s nothing heroic about it.

A sigh sounds behind me, followed by a hand grabbing my arm and turning me around. “For fuck’s sake, Sophie, talk to me!”

“Leave me alone, Carter,” I spit, wrenching my arm out of his grip. He releases me easily.

He runs a hand through his hair, his eyes tired. “Look, can’t we just have a mature conversation?—”

“A mature conversation? You mean like the one we had before you waltzed into that town meeting, throwing your weight around like a big-shot rich boy hockey star? Oh wait! Your head was too far up your ass to accomplish that.” Two points to me for the fantastic imagery.

“I’m not ‘throwing my weight around,’ I’m trying to help! And you won’t even talk to me!” he says angrily.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to try so hard to ignore you if you would just leave me alone! You’ve been doing a great job at it for the last nine years. I don’t know what’s changed now.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You fucking ghosted me, Carter!” My voice almost cracks. “You completely fell off the face of the earth, and it wasn’t because you were dead in a ditch somewhere! I know, because I saw pictures of you plastered online everywhere!” My chin lifts, daring him to deny it. It’s out there now. Now is his chance to tell me what happened. If it was all a misunderstanding…

His face has paled, and he looks like he might be sick. Well, join the club, buddy.

Of course. Betrayal hits me all over again when he says nothing to deny what happened. My insides twist, his silence bringing back emotions I’ve been pushing down for nine years. “You know what? Forget it. Just text me when you want to meet up about the rink. Otherwise… fuck. Off.”

This time he doesn’t follow me as I head to the other rink where my girls are arriving for practice, entering the locker room.

“Was that Carter Williams? Oh my god, he’s so hot.” The girls are in a tizzy, giggling and peeking at Carter, who is still staring at me with intensity in his eyes. Despite everything, his stare still sends heat down to my core.

I swallow roughly. “Yeah, and infuriating.” Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I call out, “Okay ladies, go get changed and start your warm-ups!”

That night, I toss and turn in bed, unable to get Carter out of my head. How is it that even when he’s not here, he’s torturing me? You’d think I’d be used to it by now.

The memory of the last time I saw him before yesterday is still clear in my head… it was the night of the hockey championships. I’d just played the best game of my life, my rec team dominating as we took the championship. I remember it so clearly, rushing from my rink to catch the fourth period of Carter’s final game. The way he met my eyes after shooting the winning goal in the state championship, sharing his moment of victory with me. I had been in the stands as we made our waytowards each other, two magnets drawn together. The way he claimed my mouth so thoroughly that the crowd behind us sent out cheers and wolf whistles.

Then we drove to dinner, pulling over briefly to talk because I had seen a scout from Notre Dame at the game. He kissed me then too, excitement and wonder flooding him when I shared what I had heard. The scout told someone on the phone that Carter had “serious talent”. He always shared his victories with me, like I was partly responsible for them. We had talked about college a lot, and he knew I was ready to follow him wherever his hockey career took him. He made sure to tell me it’d always be me and him, no matter what. That he’d never leave me behind.

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