Page 5 of At the Edge with You (Beer League Belles #1)

CHAPTER

FIVE

Fable

I skate for almost two hours before I decide I am calmed down enough to go home. After taking off my skates, I get dressed then make sure to lock up before I head out onto the street. I walked here since the rink is only a block away from my family home. My mom tried to insist on a driver for me growing up, but I always walked. It just made more sense, and given that she’s an environmentalist, you’d think she’d want me to walk.

But Elena loves to show off her wealth.

God, I can’t believe I’m back here. I roll my eyes in frustration, not wanting to go back as I start toward my family home. I don’t get far when a chill runs down my spine, and I have the urge to look behind me. Nothing seems amiss as I glance over at the Ice Thistle. The building is large, a steel structure with huge windows showing off the inside of the rinks. The outside is manicured to perfection, with tall trees and azalea bushes. Kitty does the landscaping. Because of the building’s massive size, it holds four rinks, a gym, and a spacious lobby for families and teams to gather during off-ice time. A basement holds all the equipment, and the upstairs contains the offices.

When I glance up, I see a big banner hanging from the roof of twenty-one-year-old me in the middle of a twist. Along the bottom of the sign are my name and the words “Three-Time Olympic Gold Medalist.” The banner looks brand-new, as if it was just replaced, which doesn’t surprise me. Phillip was one proud grandpa when it came to my skating achievements. What does surprise me is the other banner, which shows the shot of the ending of Jett’s and my free skate. Jett is holding me passionately, his arms tight around my waist as I hang from his grasp. He’s gazing down at me with a look of awe as one of my arms is clutched around his neck and the other is extended toward the ice. My head is thrown back, pure bliss on my face as I smile so widely I can almost still feel that moment.

Jett Cook and Fable Winthrop

USA’s Golden Pair

Salt Lake City Olympics

It’s like being knocked back twenty years in an instant. I remember so clearly how that skate started.

Because all our skates started the same.

“Just close your eyes,” he whispers against my ear. I slowly move my hands up his arms to wrap around his neck. His hair is short, and I miss the curls that usually gather under my fingers. I press my forehead to his chin as I sigh deeply. I am shaking with nerves, but his voice soothes me. Against the spot between my eyes, he tells me, “It’s only you and me.”

I smile at the memory before something demands my attention. I feel my breath catch when my eyes settle on where Jett is standing behind a huge glass window that is situated between the two banners. He’s larger-than-life, his arms crossed over his muscular chest as he looks down at me. His eyes are so dark, his brow furrowed as our gazes lock. Even from here, I’m stunned by his thick, dark lashes framing dark-brown eyes that, as the setting sun hits just right, glitter with gold flecks. His jaw is covered with dark hair, neatly groomed and shiny. He’s wearing a fitted dark-green Ice Thistle tee that is pulling tightly over his shoulders with how his tattoo-covered arms sit across his chest. I know for a fact that Hazel designed and tatted him. I’ve always wanted a tattoo by her. He’s wearing some fitted jeans, his tree-trunk thighs making the fabric strain. He has wrinkles along his forehead, around his eyes, and it’s plain as day that he isn’t the boy I knew.

Nope. Jett Cook is all man.

I don’t smile, nor do I wave. I only gaze at him the same way he does me. Is this how it’s going to be? Us just staring without saying a word? Why do I feel tension between us? While he did leave me to live his dreams, I understood. I got it. I don’t hate him. I don’t feel anything for him.

Okay, I feel something, but it doesn’t matter.

We were just partners.

Not friends. But we had a connection. We had chemistry that burned the ice, but that’s all it was.

Chemistry.

Unable to take his scrutinizing gaze, I turn on my heel and head toward my family home. I feel his gaze on my back, just as I did at the funeral. But I don’t look back this time.

The town of Thistlebrook has grown so much, which I noticed as soon as I drove in. Not only are the established small businesses still here, but some new ones have popped up, and I have the urge to check them out. I’m proud of our little town. It’s beautiful, and I know that’s why it attracts all kinds of travel hockey families. Not only does it have a badass rink, but it’s also a nice place to unwind when you’re not watching your kid and your blood pressure is through the roof.

As I pass Noelle’s Nibbles, the town’s best bakery, I take in her Christmas-themed building. I almost stop since Noelle Matthews, also known as Ms. Christmas, has made the best damn sweets since we were kids. I remember her making me brownies from her Easy-Bake Oven, and I don’t know how, but those suckers were damn tasty for being cooked by a light bulb. I haven’t talked to Noelle in years, and I almost make my way in, but I stop myself.

My social battery is in the red.

I find myself arriving at home before I know it, though I don’t remember how I got here. The foyer of our home is dark and quiet when I enter. I kick off my shoes, then hang my skates on the hook next to photos of me skating as a child. I did this so much growing up, it’s muscle memory at this point. I smile to myself as I head through the dark living room to the state-of-the-art kitchen. Butcher block counters and a light-green subway tile backsplash welcome me as I reach for the pitcher of water with lemon slices floating inside it. Kitty hates cold water, something she has passed down to me.

Just as I’m pouring myself a glass, the lights come on, and Kitty stands there in a long, sleeveless housedress. I send her a soft smile, and she returns it as she comes toward the island. I pour her a glass as she asks, “How was your skate?”

My brows pinch as I pass the water to her. “How’d you know?”

“I saw you on the camera when the west door alarm sounded.”

Oh. Shit. “Does Jett have access to the cameras?”

“Of course,” she says, before taking a long sip. “He’s run the rink for the last fifteen years.”

I swallow past the lump in my throat. He stepped into my spot when he came home after his stint in Ohio. I wonder if he was everything my grandpa had wanted in a partner. Dad was too obsessed with running the town, and I was gone, so of course Grandpa turned to Jett. Guilt settles in my gut as I run my finger along the rim of my glass.

“So, did it help clear your head?”

I glance back up to meet her gaze as I shrug. “Sorry I was late to the funeral.”

She waves me off. “Don’t.” She reaches over, taking my hand. “I’m just glad you made it. I didn’t think you would.” I press my lips together; I deserve that. I truly never want to be here. She reaches up, lifting the ends of my blond hair. “I love the cut too.”

“I almost shaved my head.”

She snorts, her eyes lighting up. “Oh, how your mom would have shit a brick.”

I grin widely. “Chad dumped me, and then you called—everything just hit at once.”

“I knew something else was in your head,” she says softly, gripping my forearm. “What happened with Chad?”

“I’m a robot,” I say with a shrug. And, of course, she doesn’t agree.

She tsks. “No, you’re not. You only open for people you trust. There is nothing wrong with that.”

I give her a dry look. “So, I didn’t trust him after a year?”

She shrugs. “He wasn’t that great.”

A laugh bubbles out of me as I slide my hand into hers. “Couldn’t have told me that?”

“I can’t tell you anything,” she quips, holding my gaze. “You, my darling, march through life to the beat of your own drum.”

I smile at that. She’s been telling me that since I was little. “I feel like I wasted a year of my life. He was leaving and packing his stuff, and all I felt was relief.”

“Because he wasn’t for you,” she says matter-of-factly. “The man who is will settle you in a way you’ve never experienced.”

Close your eyes. It’s only you and me.

My chest seizes, and I force myself to take a drink. The sour taste of the lemon tickles my throat before I place the glass down to meet Kitty’s gaze again. “How are you?”

She lets out a soulless laugh, her eyes dull. “Oh, I’m an utter mess.”

Tears burn my eyes. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

Kitty squeezes my hand. “Oh, my darling. I helped you find your wings to fly, not to keep you in a gilded cage.”

A tear slides down my face as I hold her eyes that mirror mine. “How can I help?”

She runs her thumb along my knuckles. “Watching you skate did that. I miss watching you, and seeing you on camera was so soothing. Just having you here is helping.”

Her words hit me like a ten-thousand-pound weight. Surely she isn’t asking me to stay, because I don’t know how to say no. Soft footsteps sound in the hall, and we both look back as my mom enters the kitchen. Her dark-green eyes move between us, annoyance in her gaze.

“What are you doing?” she asks me, not her mother-in-law, since Kitty doesn’t take her shit at all.

I sip my water as I take in my mother. She has aged a lot since the last time I saw her. Wow, it’s been almost six months. I hadn’t even realized until right now when I’m staring at a very tired-looking woman. She was close with my grandpa. He helped a lot with the forest things she did since he was a logger back in his younger days. Unlike me, her hair is a yellow blond that curls in all kinds of crazy ways. She is skin and bones, her sleep dress two sizes too big. She presses her lips into a line, making the wrinkles along her mouth visible.

“Just visiting,” Kitty says, flashing her a dark look. “Can we not visit?”

“Sure, but maybe you should scold your golden child for being late.”

Kitty rolls her eyes. “She showed up, didn’t she?”

“On her own time, making a fool of herself running up a hill in a dress way too tight.”

I shrug. “Hey, I made good time up that hill.”

“Yes, then flashed the whole town when you kicked off your heels.”

I wonder if Jett saw. And if he noticed my tats? His grandma is a tattoo artist, so I know he’d appreciate my art. So many times, I’ve wanted to reach out to him over the years, but I never could get myself to do it.

“Showing off those horrid tattoos.”

Mom hates tattoos.

Mom hates everything but trees.

“My tattoos are classy.”

“In a trailer park, maybe,” Mom says under her breath, and Kitty glares.

“Leave her alone, Elena,” my wonderful grandmother says, always coming to my defense. “She’s stunning, no matter what.”

She chucks my chin, and I smile only for her. Mom doesn’t want to listen to Kitty, but she does, surprisingly. “We should all be in bed. We have an early morning.”

Unable to keep in the snarkiness, I snap, “What? Why?”

I mean, I’m thirty-eight years old. I can rave all night, crash out at two, wake up, and do it again. Not that I will, but I could. I’m a grown-ass adult. I bring in my brows. I was planning on leaving in the morning after I woke up and had one last skate. Maybe I’d run into Jett… Not that I am holding my breath, but I’d like to maybe say hi. Catch up. I don’t know.

Kitty clutches my hand. “For the reading of the will.”

My stomach drops. “I have to do that?”

“Yes, we all do,” she says softly. “Our lawyer, Jami, will be here at eight, and so will Jett.”

My heart pounds like a kick drum. “Jett?”

“Yes, my darling, he’s included too.”

“Of course. Since he was always Phillip’s favorite,” Mom mutters, shaking her head. “Doesn’t make any sense to me—a Cook included in a Winthrop will.”

Kitty glares over at her once more, pure disdain in her gaze. “That Cook has done more for this name than you have ever done,” she snaps, her body vibrating. I squeeze her hand, hoping to calm her, but Kitty isn’t done. “You will never speak of their family that way again. They are the best people I’ve ever known, and I’m proud to have Jett take over. He will do right by what Phillip built.”

Mom only rolls her eyes. “Okay, Kitty. No reason to get all up in arms. No one is going to take anything away from your precious Cooks.”

As my mother leaves the kitchen, shaking her head, I meet Kitty’s gaze. She squeezes my hand once more and then pats the back of my hand with her other hand. “Let’s go to bed.”

I don’t agree or disagree. I only follow like a little puppy. Because my mind is reeling, and my heart is lodged up in my throat. Jett is coming here. For the reading of my grandfather’s will, which he’s included in. There will be no reason for us not to speak to each other.

I have no clue what I’ll say.

But I know I’ll be up all night trying to figure it out.