Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 113072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
“Oh, Zoe.” Her pale blue eyes are wide. “That’s intense. And now you have to see him every day at work? What did he say to you today?”
“Well, it was weird.” I play with the stem of my glass, trying to parse my brief conversation with Chase for clues. “He seemed angry to see me, which doesn’t make a lot of sense. He’s a famous athlete now, and I don’t see why losing his job ten years ago should matter anymore.”
“Fair enough. But maybe you remind him of his careless youth.”
“Maybe. But…” I flinch. “What happened between us meant a whole lot more to me than it ever did to him. I can apologize to that man, and I’ll do that if he still feels wronged. But maybe I was secretly hoping for the same apology.”
Darcy cringes. “Ouch.”
“Yeah.” I sigh. “I guess I thought there was a chance that he’d shake my hand and say, ‘Wow, I was such a dick at nineteen, and I’m sorry for tossing you aside like an apple core after lunch.’”
Darcy waits a moment while the waiter drops off our new drinks and collects our empties. Then she lifts her glass. “To Chase Merritt getting his head out of his ass.”
I pick up my glass and touch it to hers. “I’ll drink to that. But even if he doesn’t, I hope he’s quiet about it. If Nolan Sharp hears that one of his star players won’t work with me, I’ll lose my job.”
Darcy sets her glass down with a wince. “Sharp can be vindictive, and it doesn’t take much to annoy him. But I sure won’t say a word to anyone. Girl code, right? And if you fix Chase’s skating, you’ll keep your job for sure.”
“If only,” I say quietly.
She swirls her drink in her glass. “I was already happy you were here, but now I’m also fascinated. Can’t wait to see if you can turn that boy around.”
“I can turn his skating around. But only if he lets me.”
“It’ll be fascinating either way,” she says.
That’s what I’m afraid of.
Chapter 6
Nine and a Half Years Ago
Keep up your training, kid. Run fast and build muscle, and you’ll get all kinds of playing time next season. You’ll be unstoppable.
That’s what William Walsh told him, so that’s what Chase is doing. Even if the Massachusetts weather is hotter and muggier than he expected, and even if the mosquitoes are following him down the running path in a damn swarm.
He’ll do whatever Coach says, for one simple reason—Walsh is the only man who’s ever really believed in him. The day Chase got his scholarship offer was the best day of his life. Come to Minnesota, kid. We’ll take care of you. And so far he has.
Runkeeper says he’s covered seven miles by the time he approaches the student center. The place looks mostly abandoned for the summer, but a water bottle refill station beckons like a siren song from inside the atrium. So he hits the brakes at the door and tries his ID card at the sensor.
The door clicks open for him. Panting, he steps inside the darkened space, nabbing his empty water bottle off the holder on his belt.
His bottle is almost filled when he hears someone whisper “Crap!” Then a hand smacks against something hard. And he hears “Ouch.”
Hmm. He caps his water bottle silently and steps into the adjacent room, which is illuminated only by the glow of four or five vending machines. “Problem?” he says to a familiar figure.
Zoe whirls around and then leaps away from the machine with far less grace than she has on skates. “Jesus, Hockey,” she hisses. “Don’t sneak up on people.”
She’s wearing tiny cutoff shorts and a tank top that makes it hard for him to keep his eyes above her cleavage. “Sorry,” he says. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Did the machine eat your money?”
She gives him a wary glance. “Maybe. It doesn’t matter.”
He takes another step but then remembers how sweaty he is. It’s not his best look.
Or is it? Zoe is suddenly staring at his collarbone, where a drop of sweat threatens to roll down his bare chest. When she looks up, it’s with guilty eyes.
He grins. “See something you like?”
She frowns.
“I meant in the machine.”
She scowls.
Letting her off the hook, he takes a peek at the vending machine closest to her. Sure enough, there’s a forlorn packet of those neon orange peanut butter crackers dangling in the middle of the rack.
“Huh,” he says, smirking. “I can probably bully those into falling down, but frankly I’m a little worried about your taste. That’s a snack of true desperation. We’re going to have to work on your concept of fun.”
She gapes at him. “At least they have some protein. Not that I asked your opinion. And maybe it is a snack of true desperation.”