Page 96 of Cracked Ice (The F*cked Up Players #1)

LUCIEN

F inding her this time proved slightly more difficult.

I had to really think about everything I learned about Sydney Fucking Sinclair.

She lived in Palm Springs, California with her annoying father who—according to her—she constantly disappointed.

As a result of that constant ire, she struck a deal and moved away to what she said was the best collegiate figure skating program in the nation, but she lied.

Again. It’s by far her least attractive quality.

The best program is in New York, and that doesn’t seem like the kind of thing she wouldn’t know.

Couple that with the fact that she’s a wealthy girl who’s funding shouldn’t have been an issue for her and that she has a weird soft spot for her father, and it makes sense to believe she chose Seattle because it was the best program that was closest to home.

The next-best program is in Detroit, but a team didn’t work out so well for my girl last time. Sydney thrives on being challenged. She needs someone who won’t let her quit on herself. She has a steep goal of making it to the Olympics, so she can’t afford to start over.

This meant my search narrowed to schools with figure skating programs closer to the West coast with instructors who already knew of her skills, offered training without the need to be on a team, and had availability on their rosters.

Not to mention that they needed to be less expensive than her last program, since I’m willing to bet Daddy Dearest isn’t willing to spend more money just to see her fail again.

The most crucial part is that it needed to be a place that didn’t believe the rumors from her last school.

No university wants someone who was so afraid of losing their scholarship due to her family going bankrupt that they were desperate enough to push a teammate in hopes of keeping their spot on the team. At least, that was the rumor.

Yeah, I’m impressed with myself for finding her this time, but mostly I’m proud of her.

After everything we’ve been through, there was no way my princess would just quit on her dreams.

Technically, she quit on me, but I’m almost soothed by the notion that she didn’t even try to make us work. She saw the end and only cared about salvaging the pieces she could keep when it all shattered.

“I-I can’t believe you’re here. How are you here?” Sydney stutters, her mouth agape as she tries to come to terms that I’m really here.

“I should ask you the same question,” I say, masking my features with a look of equal shock.

She doesn’t need to know my stalking skills are superior to hers.

And that I have no patience for the flight skills she’s surely developed over these past few months.

Six months I had to endure her being away from me as I embarked on a personal journey to adopt a whole new persona and become someone she could keep.

I won’t risk it all now by telling her I followed her here.

Her lip quivers and a single tear falls down her cheek. The old me would have licked it away and smiled at her tears, but I resist. This time, I simply thumb them away.

She hisses a breath like my gentleness stung her, but she doesn’t pull away from my touch. There’s a long pause before she finally leans into it, those crazy blue eyes ping-ponging over my features, incredulous as ever.

“What’s wrong Princess? Cat got your tongue?” I smirk.

“I just . . . can’t believe you’re really here.” She shakes her head, her braided ponytail tossing side to side. Her hair looks duller, her skin less porcelain and fake, but she still looks amazing. Less plastic and doll-like, but breathtaking.

“I know, right? What are the odds?”

She looks away from me, shame or guilt evident on her face as she sweeps a few loose strands behind her ear.

“I’d heard you got expelled,” she mentions.

Rubbing the back of my neck, I shift my weight. “I was . . . asked to leave and this was my runner-up school anyway, so here I am.”

I hate the way lies taste, but I’ve gotten pretty used to its bitterness as of late.

“Oh. That’s good.” She looks disappointed, but I just stand there.

“Yep,” I rock back on my heels, not leading the charge this time, but moving at her pace.

“So, how’ve you been?” she asks.

My brows hike, amused at her attempt at normal conversation as though the last time I saw her I wasn’t fucking her senseless and trying to cut her heart out.

“ Good ,” I drawl, doing my best to keep the sarcasm at bay.

She rears back from the understated answer and a flash of hurt shines in her eyes. Part of me relishes in her pain, but mostly I just don’t want to rehash our bitter end when I’m trying to ensure we have a future.

“Better now,” I add with a smile.

She doesn’t completely warm up with my new approach, but she thaws slightly.

“I’m . . . sorry” Sydney says with a sigh. “I know it’s been a long time and we never—I just needed to say it again. I am sorry.” She finishes her apology before dropping her gaze to her shoes.

“Forget about it,” I brush her apology away with the wave of a hand. We’re starting brand new. “It’s water under the bridge.”

Her lips curl into a smile, no longer slathered in gloss, but moisturized and soft. “Yeah.” Her eyes soften finally as she looks back up at me.

“ So . . . What have you been up to?” I prod, hoping this time she’ll be honest.

“I just finished practice.” She jerks a thumb behind her, pointing to the stairs that lead to the rink below.

I’m already aware of what she’s been up to, but I want to hear her tell me herself. I want to hear from her own mouth how she really feels after everything.

“Seems you didn’t have to give it up after all,” I tell her, nodding my head to her skates over her shoulder.

“Thanks to you,” she gestures toward me.

I grin slightly, but shake my hair. “Nah, I’m sure that’s not true.”

Her shoulders slump as though I’ve hit her with another crushing blow, and I’m starting to lose faith in this plan. I think I’m really fucking this up.

“Well, let’s see it then,” I push, opening my arms in display.

“See what?” She looks around like she’s confused.

“How you’ve improved.”

“Oh, no.” Her hands wave in front of her. “I don’t know about that, I just—”

“Nuh uh uh, Princess.” I take a step forward, closing the distance between us physically and mentally so there is no confusion about how we’re moving forward.

“False modesty is a form of lying and we don’t do that anymore, do we?

” My fingers tilt her chin up and her throat bobs as she gathers her wits.

“No,” her voice a hoarse whisper as she leans in closer.

“Good.” I lean away. “Lead the way.”

She’s just as beautiful a skater as she always was, but in all honesty, she’s better now. She hasn’t fallen, not once.

“Come on.” She skates literal circles around me as I stand in the center of the rink with a pair of rented figure skates, since they offer that here. “Skate with me?”

In the correct skates, it’s easier to copy her movements.

She tries to speed ahead, but I grab her hand and twirl her toward me.

Her leg wraps around my waist, and I dip her back, letting her long blond braid flow in the wind and kiss the ice.

Her eyes are wide with wonder and surprise. I flash her a wink.

“Did you already forget I knew how to figure skate?”

She shakes her head.

“It’s not that, I forgot how good it felt.” Sydney’s cheeks burn pink, and I watch the flush spread down to her ample breasts that somehow look fuller. God, I miss her tits.

I turn and skate away to prevent myself from squishing my face between them.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

I laugh at her dumbfounded expression when I pull off a triple axel that I know she wasn’t expecting.

Her shock quickly melts away and she’s skating toward me at full speed.

It’s my turn to be shocked when she jumps with no fear and complete trust that I’ll catch her—and I do catch her, bringing her body flush against mine.

There’s no amount of control that could prevent my cock from hardening at her touch right now as I hold her close and she slides down my body.

Her breath ghosts over my lips, and her hands cup my face.

“Sydney,” I rasp, unwilling to quite cross that line yet. I can’t afford to move too fast again. This isn’t like last time. I’m not just playing a game for keeps anymore. She and I are for fucking life.

We’re a whispered breath away from kissing, despite our strengthened defenses, but there’s an applause that rips our focus away.

We both turn to find our unexpected audience.

It takes me an embarrassingly long minute to pinpoint the intruder before I see a woman I don’t recognize skating over to us.

My body partially shields Sydney, ready to attack, despite my efforts to remain calm and exercise more control.

“Who are you?” I snap.

She ignores me.

“My dear, that was absolutely beautiful. I’ve never seen you skate like that before. You were . . . magnificent.”

Sydney’s blue eyes shine with tears and it only sets me more on edge. Why is she crying? I swear to God, if this woman is making her cry, she’s dead.

Sydney’s hands cup her face as she shakes her head. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I—you don’t know how much it means to me to hear you say that, Oksana.”

Oksana?

She peels Sydney’s hands away from her face.

“I knew there had to be something special about you. That’s why I agreed to train you.

” Her attention falls on me. “But now I see you’ve been hiding your secret weapon from me.

” She gives me a discerning once-over. “What’s your name?

I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. ”

My eyes assess her for so long in return that Sydney has to answer for me. “This is my friend, Lucien.”

The term friend gut punches me so hard I almost keel over. I don’t know what we were classified as before now, but ‘friend’ just doesn’t suit. It’s a disgusting word I want to spit out and make her swallow.

She was the girl who was willingly to do anything for me, who was just as crazy about me as I was about her. To shrink it all down to us being ‘friends’ is laughable at this point, so that’s what I do. I fucking laugh.

The woman is unfazed by my outburst. “You’re a strange one, aren’t you?”

“Guilty,” I counter, my grin obviously unkind, but teasing enough to make her blush.

She sighs.

“I suppose it doesn’t hurt. You’re obviously talented. Do you train together often?” Oksana asks as she skates around us, checking out my physique without shame.

“Oh, no, we weren’t training. We were just .

. .” Sydney looks at me for confirmation, but I don’t offer any assistance.

I’m at as much of a loss as she is. I don’t know what we’re doing.

I know what I want us to be doing, but I can admit I have no clue how to get us there anymore. “Having fun,” she finishes.

It’s even more of a punch to the dick than being called a friend. We shared a moment, and she chalked it up to fun ? Is this how she felt when we were playing our games? Did she think it was all fun and games and I wasn’t falling for her?

Bradford’s words play on a stupid loop in my head. You know . . . I almost feel bad for you . I sensed it then, that he was actually being genuine and that only pissed me off more at the time.

I shake it off. It doesn’t matter. I’m here now, and this time I’m not getting pushed away.

“You’re telling me you just performed that piece on a whim?” Oksana perks up, stopping her examination of my body.

The woman’s brows pinch before her eyes light up in amazement. She seems impressed with us. Meanwhile, I’m still reeling from the effects of ‘friend’ and ‘fun’ hovering my head, circling like cartoon birds and I’m the fool that’s been conked over the head.

“Um, yeah, I guess so,” Sydney shrugs. “It wasn’t really a piece though. Just us goofing around, you know.”

I hate how nervous Sydney sounds. It’s nothing like the fearless girl she was a moment ago when she leapt into my arms, nothing like the snarky girl with the bad attitude and foul mouth from months ago. Nothing like she used to be.

I turn away from what feels like the imposter next to me and out into the arena.

Without the distraction of Sydney or the Oksana woman, I feel the telltale signs of eyes on me.

I can’t see past the lights and the darkness beyond, but their stares are undeniable.

Someone is out there. I strain my eyes, trying to see what’s trying to stay hidden.

The best I’m able to do is catch two tall shadowy figures. Two guys if I had to guess.

Typically, I’d be on edge about that, ready to fight, maim or kill whoever dared to pose a threat, but this doesn’t feel like a threat.

It feels . . . nostalgic. I know this feeling.

I’ve felt it before with Sydney when I realized she was watching my practices.

Whoever’s watching us now, feels exactly like that.

I peer over to Sydney, who of course doesn’t notice, then back at the woman who’s still chattering on about her assessment of us rather than paying attention to our surroundings.

Oksana looks between us some more and though it’s a struggle, I refocus my attention because the next words out of her mouth changes the fate of Sydney and I once more.

“Sydney, have you ever thought of doing partner skating?”