Page 5 of Ice Melts

“Just letting you know I think you both need to…bad.”

He was done talking about this. The whole idea was too tempting, and his sister didn’t know what she was talking about. There was no way Sarah would welcome a date. And did he even welcome one? What would they talk about? How terrible her articles were for his career? But he nodded. “I’ll see. Pretty sure she’d say no.”

“Just ask. You can even tell her you want to plan Europe or something.”

This time he let himself smile. “Now, that I could do. Maybe.”

She leapt up from the bed. “Excellent. Mission accomplished here. Now I’m off to convince mom to slow down at work.”

His heart clenched. Sometimes he could forget about his mom’s cancer, but when he remembered again, it always came with a jolt. “Want me to come?”

She shook her head. “Nah. I’m gonna shamelessly tell her I need her help.”

He held out his arms for a hug. “You’re doing so much, worried about me, worried about mom, in the middle of your Masters. Hang in there.” He held her tight for as long as he could. She was the best sister, a bit misguided where Sarah was concerned, but a beautiful soul nonetheless and he loved her more the older they got. At least he didn’t have to worry about her dating some shlep. She’d sworn off men for a little while.

As soon as she closed his door he opened the window, a blast of cold air cooling his skin. That was a conversation he wouldn’t survive too many more times. He gulped big draughts of ice-cold air.

Sarah Cooper had been the literal love of his life since high school. He had always thought that by now, they’d be dating, knowing one day they’d be getting married.

But somehow instead of dating they were well on their way to being mortal enemies, and he wasn’t sure what to do about it. Most of the time he pretended he didn’t care. Or he pretended like he was ticked off. But what he really was, was desperately in love.

He leaned as far out the window as he could. The icy blast was not strong enough to cool his head or calm his heart. But if almost a decade of time couldn’t chill his feelings for Sarah, a little cold air had no chance.

CHAPTER THREE

The gym was humming with activity when Sarah stepped inside, the kind of energy that made her feel like she could do anything before she even got to the treadmill. She scanned the room, noting the usual mix of determined joggers, weightlifters grunting their way through reps, and the occasional person who spent more time on their phone than their workout. The air smelled faintly of rubber mats and overpriced protein shakes. Not her favorite, but this was her routine. And she needed the routine.

Sliding her earbuds in, she set a steady pace on the treadmill. The rhythmic thud of her sneakers hitting the belt was always calming, like white noise. Today, though, her mind was too restless to focus. The half-finished article waiting for her back home loomed like a storm cloud. “The Top Ten Most Overrated Hockey Players.” She groaned internally just thinking about it. This wasn’t what she’d signed up for when she’d started atSportsZone.Back then, she’d envisioned meaningful stories about the sport she grew up loving, pieces that celebrated the skill and grit of the game. But somehow, she’d ended up with clickbait assignments that felt more like taking cheap shots thanreal journalism. The first time she exposed the drug problem among some of the hockey players, she realized how prevalent it was and when the players got suspended, she saw the power for good her articles might have.

She didn’t hate hockey. She couldn’t. She’d grown up with it—backyard rinks, late-night games on TV, and more than a few frozen toes after skating for hours with Tatum and Travis. Hockey had been part of her life for as long as she could remember.

What she hated was what some players did with the pedestal they’d been given. The wild parties, the DUIs, the scandals splashed across social media—it all felt so reckless. These guys were role models, whether they wanted to be or not. Kids idolized them, hung their posters on their walls, dreamed of being just like them. Sarah couldn’t shake the image of a kid mimicking the behavior they saw off the ice and thinking it was part of the package deal.

She sighed, picking up her pace. Not all hockey players were like that, though. She knew that. Some of them took the responsibility seriously. Some of them were like?—

“Hey, is this machine taken?”

Sarah jumped, fumbling with her earbuds. She turned to see Travis standing there, gym bag slung over his shoulder, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Of course it was him. She regretted the ratty t-shirt, the lack of mascara and the blotchy face she must be sporting.

She shook her head, trying to recover her composure. “Travis, hey. No, it’s free.”

He hopped onto the treadmill next to hers, setting his bag down with an ease that made her acutely aware of the awkward way she was clutching her water bottle. “What are you doing here?” she asked, not bothering to hide her surprise.

“Working out,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You?”

“Solving world hunger,” she shot back, then cringed internally. Too snarky. She cleared her throat. “I mean, just getting some miles in.”

“Nice. Want some company?”

It wasn’t really a question—he was already setting his pace, the treadmill coming to life with a quiet hum. She considered saying no but never would. For reasons she could never admit, she would always welcome his company.

They ran in companionable silence for a few minutes, the sound of their sneakers filling the space between them.

“So,” he was the first to break the silence, “still writing those hard-hitting exposés?”

She glanced at him, catching the teasing glint in his eyes. “You mean the ones about hockey players?”

“Those would be the ones.”

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