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)
But I know I’ll be up all night trying to figure it out.
CHAPTER
SIX
Jett
When I pull up in front of the Italianate mansion, I throw my truck into park then drive my fingers through my hair. I should have gotten a haircut, but I had no time. I guess I could have let Hazel do it, but knowing her, she’d give me a mullet.
I glance over at the grandiose house and cringe inwardly. I don’t know how only three people live in a place like this, but it has been in the family since the town was built. I’m parked out on the street since I refuse to park in the driveway, something I’ve always done.
When I’d drive Fable home after practice, I’d stop right here and let her out. I’d watch as she walked up to the house to make sure she made it. Every time she got to the door, she’d look back, a little smile on her face. Her green eyes would shine in the moonlight, and my grip on the steering wheel would tighten. She thought it was silly of me to stop in the road, but I didn’t want to give her parents a chance to cage me in.
They aren’t fans of me—or the girls.
Even as a teenager, I knew they didn’t want me anywhere near their daughter. That if a nine-time gold-medalist pair from Russia hadn’t suggested Fable and I pair up, I wouldn’t have had any contact with her. She went to Thistle Prep, the town’s private school, while I went to Thistlebrook High. I didn’t go to church on Sunday like they did. My dad was a piece of shit and was always running around on my mom, while Fable had two parents in love. My great-nana had never had a normal hair color, and my nana owned a tattoo shop. We were different in all the ways that mattered to the bible-toting people of Thistlebrook. But when Fable and I hit the ice, nothing mattered but our bodies, our skills, the music, and the trust between us.
Fuck me, losing Phillip has done nothing but dig up all kinds of emotions and memories I’ve tried to stuff into a box. I swallow hard as I gaze up at the pristine white house. She’s in there, and I’m about to come face-to-face with her. Neither the town nor a glass wall will be between us. It’ll be her and me. I have no clue what I’ll say.
Guess I’ll start with “Hi.”
Or I could go with Joey from Friends and ask, “How you doin’?”
Rolling my eyes, I yank at the collar of my shirt before I exhale roughly and slam the door of my truck shut. It’s too damn hot for a suit, but since I’m meeting the lawyer, I felt it was needed. Phillip never minded my tattoos, but Elena and Richie Winthrop, Fable’s parents, look at me like I’m scum when they’re on display.
My nerves are shot, my chest aches with grief, and I honestly don’t want to make this any harder. I don’t know why we need to have a reading of the will. Can’t this be done by email? Or even on GoogleMeet? Then I can wear what I want and shut off my camera. Damn it, I don’t want to be here. My mouth is dry as I head up the walkway that’s lined with azalea bushes to the big wooden door. Once I reach it, I ring the doorbell and wait.
It opens to Richie Winthrop.
My stomach clenches as his beady eyes give me a once-over, his lips curving up in disgust. “JT.”
“Richie,” I say as I tuck my hand into my pocket.
But he doesn’t move or let me in. Instead, he steps out and shuts the door behind himself. I’m a big dude—no one has ever really measured to my 6’6” size—but no matter how small Richie is, I take a step back. I don’t want to be near him. I don’t want anything to do with him.
With his voice low, he glares up at me. “Nothing has changed. The Ice Thistle is yours now, but that doesn’t mean you can go back on our deal.” I feel my molars grind as I hold his gaze. I hope my face masks that I don’t give a shit what he is saying, but my heart is beating wildly in my chest. “Stay away from my daughter.”
I chuckle lightly. “Richie, come on,” I say roughly, shaking my head. “For one, she doesn’t even live here, and for two, I’m not the scared, clueless eighteen-year-old I was. Don’t forget that.”
He balks at my words as I move past him and enter the house. Jackass. I don’t have time for his bullshit. I may not want to be here, and I may not like them, but I refuse to be talked to like I’m the damn trash. I’m about to be the owner of the Ice Thistle, and that’s a big fucking deal. I refuse to let that asshole make me feel anything but excited for my future. I won’t allow him to get in my head and fuck with my insecurities.