Page 24

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FOUR

Jett

I’m standing in front of Fable’s door, my whole body firing off with nerves.

I glance into the mirror hanging above a decorative table that Kitty insists “brings the room together” and run my fingers through my hair. I trimmed my beard a bit, but I still look too rugged for someone as prim and proper as Fable. Not that I care. My lips lift a bit as I inhale, letting it out in a rush. How many times did I want this moment with her when we were younger? I’d plan full-out dates where we’d go to the drive-in movie or to the Reindeer Rumpus Ranch just to walk among the trees. I wouldn’t suggest a trail walk since I know the forest is a sore spot for her, but I was convinced, no matter what we were to do, we’d have a blast.

I wanted to take her to my prom, especially since she wouldn’t be going to hers. After Salt Lake, she homeschooled and moved out to Colorado to train. I wasn’t sure how to reach out to her. She went radio silent, and months turned into years, and I never saw her until social media hit. I wonder if things would have been different if I had reached out. Though, she never reached out either.

Now, I stand before her door, a bouquet of daisies and some treats from Noelle’s in my hand.

For a date.

With Fable Winthrop.

I swallow hard as I knock on the door, opening it when she calls for me to come in. I’m immediately hit with the smell of buffalo sauce and cheese, but that isn’t what has my mouth watering. Behind the stove, Fable stands in a blue dress with a tight bodice that has little bows all over it and flares over her hips. It hugs her delectable curves, and I’m stunned at the sight. She sends a grin over her shoulder, her hair whipping around her face before her eyes meet mine. An appreciative look fills her eyes, and I stand a bit taller, enjoying being desired by her. “Hey!”

I lick my lips as I start for her. “Hey there,” I say, leaning in to place a chaste kiss on her cheek. Her cheeks go all rosy in seconds as I lean my hip on the counter. “What you cookin’, good-lookin’?”

Her lips curve as she stirs what looks like mac and cheese. “Buffalo chicken mac and cheese.”

I rub my chest, grimacing a bit. “Shit, I better go get my Tums.”

She grins. “They’re on the counter. I already took two.”

I flash her a grateful smile before I hold the flowers out to her. “First, these are for you.” Her eyes dance with excitement as she takes the bouquet, and then I offer the box of treats. “And dessert since I didn’t want to get ahead of myself and think you were on the menu.”

Her eyes flare with heat as she scolds, “Such a flirt.”

“Only with you,” I remind her, squeezing her hip. She leans into my touch before moving away to get a vase, and I grab the Tums bottle. I take two before asking, “Want me to plate us up?”

She nods. “Please. I got us beer in the fridge.”

“A girl after my own heart, I see.” I don’t miss the hopeful look in her eyes while she fills the vase with water. As I gaze at her profile, the desire to be the man she needs rattles me. I never felt like I could measure up, but when she said her parents’ opinion didn’t matter, something inside me flipped.

If she believes that, then why can’t I?

We move through the kitchen together just like we do on the ice, in sync. We’ve been training every day, and we’re making progress. We’ll never be what we were, but then, we don’t have the bodies we did when we were younger either. Her work ethic is still there, and the girl doesn’t relent. I have never been this sore in all my life. No matter how in shape I am, all this training is hell on my body. It’ll be worth it in the end, though. Kitty is going to love it.

I know I love it.

We settle at the bar. I crack open both beers and ask, “How is it going, living here? I’m sure the raccoon telenovela is keeping you entertained.”

She smiles sweetly at me, pressing her shoulder into mine. She usually bounces off, but this time, she leans in while pressing her chin to her shoulder. “It is, thank you very much. Sir Trashington knocked Lady off the dumpster, and of course, Sneaky Pete was waiting for her.”

“I’m rooting for him.”

Her eyes dance with mine. “So am I.”

My heartbeat picks up in speed at the look in her eyes, almost as if she’s rooting for me. For us. I take a bite of the meal she prepared, feeling her gaze on mine, and when the flavors hit my tongue, I nod appreciatively. “Perfection. This is really good. Worth the heartburn I’m sure I’ll have.”

She beams, doing a little dance. “It’s my favorite thing to cook.”

“It’s delicious. Thanks for cooking.” Fable draws her bottom lip between her teeth, and I love how pleased she is. My favorite thing about her is her confidence, and while it radiates on the ice, it’s not all that present off it. I wish she could see herself through my eyes, see how perfect I think she is.

After taking a few swigs of my beer, I ask, “Have you talked to your parents?”

Her face scrunches up as she shakes her head. “No. It’s been so nice. They call all the damn time, but I’m ignoring them. Kitty says they are highly upset, but I don’t care.”

“Good.”

“I do have to go to a benefit for Mom’s charity thing at the end of the month, though. Kitty thinks it’ll be good for networking.”

I nod. I was invited but didn’t plan on going. “In Gatlinburg, right?”

“Yeah,” she says, her fork hanging by her mouth. She bites on the tines and then meets my gaze. “Would you want to go together?” I can’t hide the surprise on my face. “It’s okay if you don’t?—”

“No, I do,” I insist, meeting her gaze. “I’d love to go with you.”

Her eyes are as bright as her smile before she digs back in. Around a bite, she says, “It’ll be overnight.”

She looks up at me through her lashes, and I waggle my brows. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, princess. Having you on my arm at a ritzy event and then going back to a hotel room with you? Yeah, that sounds like heaven.”

Her eyes are teasing as she says, “Who says we’re sharing a room?”

I slide my hand to her thigh, her warm skin scalding my palm as I hold her gaze. “The puck is in your zone, Fable, but my intentions are clear. I’ll stand beside the goal and watch you score, princess.”

She bites her lip, her lashes fluttering as her cheeks turn that adorable rosy color. She looks away as I continue to stroke her thigh. I watch her lips curve, and she nods. “We’ll see, okay?”

I nod, hoping like hell it works out for us. “Okay.”

Her eyes burn with gratitude as we go back to eating. We discuss some of the things that are going on around the rink. After we have updated the west rink, I’d like to do the same in the south, but that may be after peak travel team season. We discuss some of the skating coaches she’s been talking with and seeing if she can get them to come work here. Not everyone wants to live in such a small town, but thankfully, the commute from Knoxville isn’t too bad. She suggests doing a mileage program, and I agree because it’ll help get the right people to the Thistle. The conversation is easy, carefree, and even when we’re not speaking, the silence doesn’t seem to bother us. Beside me, Fable’s leg isn’t bouncing. She does wiggle a bit in her seat and clink her fork to her teeth while I talk, but she seems settled.

And I hope it’s because of me.

My eyes fall to her lips as she talks about one girl who skates up in Gatlinburg during Christmas. I love how plump her top lip is compared to her bottom. Her teeth are so straight, white, and it drives me wild how her tongue peeks out practically every other word to wet her lips. She talks so animatedly, and that is unique to her. She doesn’t talk with her hands, but her entire face is involved with each word she speaks. Her eyes spark, and her grin takes up her whole mouth. It’s refreshing to see her like this, when, before, it was only on the ice where I saw the real Fable.

Now, she’s sitting beside me.

Before I know it, we’re done with dinner. After cleaning up, we end up on the couch with our phones in our hands. I already made a playlist of songs I want to do, and from the looks of it, Fable also tried to make her own. I watch as she goes through all the playlists she’s made, naming them with numbers, and it cracks me up to see over twenty.

“Are we doing this on her birthday?”

She doesn’t look up from her phone as she nods. “It’s on a Friday.” Her eyes then meet mine, a little shyness in them. “I thought we could make it a whole thing.”

“I thought we were.”

“No, I wanted it to be like a showcase. The rink will be done by then, and I thought we could let my classes do a new little number and then my solo skaters. Then, as a surprise, we skate.”

“Sneaky. I love it,” I say with a smirk. “She won’t see it coming.”

“Not at all.” She gives a little wiggle. “I already have Noelle designing a cake.”

“I can’t wait.”

“Me either, but I need to stop being so sore.”

“Same,” I say, then rub my chest. “I need more Tums.”

She agrees with sympathy in her eyes. “Can you grab me some?”

I chuckle lightly as I get up to grab the bottle, and I take in her space. She changed the sheets on her bed to a soft pink. She’s also hung a photo of Kitty, Phillip, and her. When I see the photo of the two of us when we were at Worlds, in the middle of a jump series, I grin. I like that she has a photo of us in her home. I can tell she tried to clean, but she just stuffed things in places she didn’t think I’d notice. She’s messy on the best of days, and I find it so endearing. I can’t help the smile that sits on my lips as I come back to the couch, handing her Tums.

“So I’m thinking, ‘My Heart Will Go On’ by Celine Dion.”

She starts the song, and I stop it with ease. “I know the song and abso-fucking-lutely not.”

“Jett!” she scolds as I sit down. “She would love it.”

“Listen, we can skate to ‘Reading Rainbow,’ and she’d love it. I want to skate to something that’s us. They picked last time. Let us pick this time.”

“This isn’t for us.”

“I don’t care. I’m not skating to Celine Dion.”

She glares. “She is the queen of ’90s pop.”

“And she can stay there,” I throw back, and her eyes darken as I hit play on “Until the Day I Die” by Story of the Year.

The music fills the space, and when I look over at her for approval, she makes a face. “We can’t skate to this.”

“It’s a classic.”

“No way,” she says, playing some boring piano jam. “We should do slow and pretty so we don’t break anything.”

I scoff before hitting the next song, and “My Own Worst Enemy” by Lit starts to blare.

“Jett! We can’t. Everyone would start singing and not give a damn about us.” On cue, the chorus hits, and we both belt it out, just as any good ’90s kids would.

We dissolve in laughter, but we don’t change the song. I watch as she sings, her eyes squeezing shut when she hits notes she shouldn’t while banging her head to the beat.

It makes me grin, in awe of her. I remember when she got the first iPod when it was released. She loaded it up with all the songs we liked, a bunch of pop-punk hits we enjoyed. We’d sit with one earbud in each of our ears and just sing. Neither of us cared that we couldn’t sing or even that it drove her parents crazy that we sat so close. I don’t think she noticed, but I did.

As she hits play and “I See the Light” from Tangled starts, I give her a dry look. “Disney? Really? Are we ten?”

She snorts. “Kitty loves Disney.”

“And again, I don’t care.” I put on Yellowcard’s “Only One,” and her eyes light up.

“No way. But I do love this song.”

We both bob our heads as we sing and laugh along together. When she puts on Chuck Berry’s “You Can Never Tell,” I can’t help myself. I push the coffee table aside, and we both start dancing like the fools we are, doing the whole scene the way they did in Pulp Fiction .

Our laughter is unstoppable, and I can’t get enough of her.

When the song ends, we fall to the couch and agree that the song isn’t for this skate.

On a sigh, I say, “I want this to be us.”

She throws her hands up, frustrated. “What is us, Jett Cook?”

A slow smile spreads over my face as I look down at my phone. My thumb is shaking as I hit play on “Fall for You” by Secondhand Serenade. When I first heard this song, it spoke to my soul. It’s a perfect mix of slow and fast beats, and for me, it’s perfect.

It is everything I feel about her.

Fable glances down at her hands, wringing her fingers, and I know she knows the song. She leans back on the couch, and I do the same, stretching my arm along the top. I’m not touching her but giving her the support of my body if she needs it. She doesn’t say anything or even look at me, but she sings along with the lyrics. I’m so ensnared by her, I can’t look away. I can only watch as her lips move, and her eyes fall shut so slowly.

When the song ends, she sighs deeply and nods. “Yeah, it could work.”

I don’t say anything. I can’t. I wonder if the lyrics spoke to her like they do to me. When she lifts those sweet green eyes to mine, I take in a sharp breath at the pure torture in her gaze. She swallows thickly, her lips pressing together as she stares up into my eyes. I want to kiss her so badly, but I need her to make the move. If I let myself act the way I want, I’ll ruin everything. I’m desperate for her, but I respect her too much to rush her into anything.

“I wish you hadn’t chosen hockey,” she admits, her voice so soft, I’m not even sure she meant for me to hear it.

Emotion suffocates me, but I can’t lie. “It’s one of my biggest regrets.”

Her eyes widen for just a second before she leans her temple against my cheek. I wrap my arms around her, holding her close as I breathe her in. She looks up at me, her eyes ping-ponging between mine as she whispers, “I don’t want any more regrets, Jett.”

My heart is slamming into my ribs. “I don’t either.”

I cup her jaw, loving how her face feels in my hand. She leans into my palm, and my heart rate skyrockets. I rub the spot below her bottom lip. Her eyes darken, her lips parting and leaving me in knots. My voice is raspy as I tell her, “I’ve been dreaming about these lips all week.”

Her eyes sparkle. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Shit,” I say, my face flushing. “If I’m honest, I’ve been dreaming about them for twenty-four years.” Her bottom lip quivers, and then slowly, she presses a kiss to my thumb. My breath hitches, my body now trembling as I gaze down at her. Thinking clearly isn’t easy around her on a normal day, but when she looks at me like she wants to devour me, yeah, I’m only feeling at this point.

Breathless, I whisper, “Can I kiss you?”

She shakes her head, and my heart sinks. I know I’m not reading this wrong. I can feel how badly she wants me, see it in her eyes. What am I doing wrong? Who hurt her, and how can I kill them without going to jail? I press my forehead to hers, breathing her in as I try to grab control of my need for her. She slides her nose along my lips, and I kiss her gingerly, needing to feel her with my lips.

Before I can ask why, or even what she is scared of so I can ease those concerns, she lifts her head, her gaze locking with mine. She searches my gaze, and against my lips, she whispers, “Because I want to kiss you first.”

Everything stops.

When she presses her lips to mine, I know with absolute certainty that she is the last woman I’ll ever kiss.