Page 1 of Back On Ice

Chapter One

SOPHIE

“Aunt Fee,you’re not going to believe what I just heard from one of my favorite hockey influencers!” Jordan calls through the rolled down window on the passenger side of my car as he throws the backdoor open and tosses his gear bag inside. He’s a flurry of ten-year old energy as he crawls in after it, settling himself on the seat free of his stuff.

“What’s that, bud?” I glance at him through the rearview mirror while he pulls on his seatbelt. His hair is damp from the locker room shower, his blue eyes shining with excitement that only someone his age can muster after a grueling hour-long hockey practice. He turns to meet my eyes in the mirror, and it’s not for the first time I’m struck with just how much he looks like his dad—my older brother, Tom. Besides the smattering of freckles on his cheeks and his sandy brown hair, he is almost an exact replica of how I remember Tom when we were young.

Putting the car into drive, I let my foot off the brake to pull away from the curb.

“My favorite hockey player of all time is going back to his hometown, and that's Ivy Glen!”

It only takes me a few moments to register what he’s saying. There is only one NHL hockey player to ever come out of Ivy Glen, and that’s Carter Williams.

My foot stomps the brake so hard we both lurch forward. I’m very thankful he didn’t tell me this while going forty down the main street.

“Woah!” Jordan yelps, jarred from the sudden stop. “What happened?”

“Squirrel in the road,” I say, smiling tightly at him through the mirror and trying not to let the emotion bubbling up inside me show. “Sorry bud. That’s… super exciting about that hockey player coming to town.” Pulling away from the curb completely this time, I drive us home.

“I know right? I’m so excited that I…” Jordan’s voice fades in my mind as I process this absolute bombshell.

Carter fucking Williams.

CartermotherfuckingWilliams.

The boy who had been my everything.

Memories flash through me like lightning, quick and painful. Our grade school years. Romantic dates in high school, overlooking the lake in the back of his truck. Making plans for college together.

Taking each other's virginity.

A shiver runs through me remembering the morning after, when my life changed forever. I was stuck withwaking up in an empty bed. His text, with the timestamp of around four-thirty in the morning, hadn’t given me any indication that anything had been wrong.

Carter: Hey, beautiful. Last night was amazing. My dad was freaking out about something, so I had to go. Lunch later? I’ll text you by noon.

I hadn’t heard from him all day and showed up at his house, looking for him. The look on his mother's face, with tears in her eyes, had my heart falling. Carter was gone, leaving only a letter for me behind, filled with promises of making things work, and how he wouldn’t let his dad come between us.

It’s you and me, Soph. The words, which he had said so many times to me over the years, signed off the end of his letter. That was nine years ago.

Then the asshole cheated on me.

Parking in the driveway of the townhome where I live with Tom and Jordan, I’m brought out of my daze. Jordan still rambles about Carter’s player stats and how he might try to get an autograph. The townhouse is one of the newer additions to Ivy Glen, having been built fifteen years ago. All three of us take pride in its appearance, touching up the paint every three years or so, and keeping our small space of lawn nice and manicured. The stone-gray paint is easy enough to touch up on my own, but call Dad whenever we need to go over the white trimmings on the second floor. Painting shutters while being twenty feet above the ground is not something I’m comfortable doing myself. We head inside, and I hang my purse on the hook next to the door as Jordan drops his bag before shucking off his shoes.

“Forgetting something?” I raise a brow as he tries to bolt up the stairs. Shooting me a guilty look, he walks back toward his gear bag that he had tossed aside and hikes it back up over his shoulder.

“Sorry, Aunt Fee.”

“No worries, Jordy. Thanks for picking up after yourself.” I press a kiss to his hair before passing through the living room, framed photos of my nephew over the years lining the walls. There’s a couple family photos too—Mom, Dad, Jordan, Tom, and me, as well as one of Tom, Sarah, and Jordan before the accident. Most of the photos are of Jordan, one for every year he’s played hockey, starting at four years old in his black and burgundy “Jr. Thorns” jersey, a helmet tucked under one arm and a hockey stick clutched proudly in the other.

Turning the corner, I head to the kitchen to start dinner. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and when I look at the screen, the word “MOM” flashes at me.

“Hey.” Thankful for the distraction from thoughts of Carter, I answer, tucking the phone between my ear and shoulder as I get dinner going. Warm yellow walls greet me when I enter the kitchen, making me feel slightly lighter even with the news of Carter coming back looming over my head. The white cabinets and light wood countertops keep the room bright, something I deeply appreciate right now.

“Sophie!” Mom’s voice is warm in my ear. “Hi, sweetie. Listen, I need to talk to you about these floral arrangements in the front of the shop?—”

“Mom!” I scold her, scowling at the pot of water I’m filling up in the sink. “What are you doing at the shop? You know working on arrangements makes your arthritis flare up.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” she huffs. “Besides, I’m just helping Kerry with a few things. Her eye for floral design is just impeccable.” Even if I do worry about Mom working when she should be retired and letting me take care of everything, at least she couldn’t be more right about Kerry.

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