Page 3

Chapter

One

JONAS

Emma: Haha, you have to go to school today.

Jonas: Don’t rub it in! When do you start again?

Emma: Not for another two weeks. Aren’t you jealous?

Jonas: So jealous, little sis. You’ll have to send me a picture on your first day.

Emma: You know Mom will make me take one.

Jonas: She always does.

My breath catches in my throat at a flash of blonde hair. Is it her? I’ve been looking for Cinderella since the National Championship game.

Breaking into a jog, I hike my backpack higher on my shoulder and weave through the crush of students on the path. Surrounded by a crowd in the engineering mall, it’s not easy to dodge obstacles, but her blonde waves are like a beacon, drawing me in.

Finally, I get close enough to touch her arm. She spins on her heel, blonde hair flying?—

And my mouth gapes open, my heart thudding in my chest. It’s not the right girl. What now?

“What do you want?” she asks, which is a fair question, because I accosted a stranger I definitely don’t know. My cheeks heat.

“Um, sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

“Oh.” The woman smiles, green eyes—the wrong color—giving me a once-over. Her gaze catches on my Frozen Four t-shirt. “You’re on the hockey team. Jonas, right?”

“Uh, yeah.” I stick out my hand to be polite, and she shakes it, then doesn’t let go.

Her voice takes on a flirty purr. “I’m Jen. I love hockey players.”

Really? Because I’d guess what she loves is the clout that comes with hanging out with collegiate athletes or the potential of future payouts. Is she weighing my options, trying to decide what I can give her?

There’s a chance I could get signed with an NHL team.

Do I want that? I didn’t enter the draft when I was nineteen because, well, I wasn’t good enough.

But playing at Harrison the last two years, I’ve gotten better.

Thanks to high-caliber coaching and strong teammates, I’m good.

Really good. I’ve caught the eye of a few scouts.

There’s buzz about me. It’s weird. I never thought I’d be recognized by girls on campus.

It’s something other guys would kill for.

But do I want to play professional hockey? Or do I want a nursing job? That’s what I’ve always planned on, always saw for myself when I was younger. I thought it was a calling, that I should serve my community like my parents.

An athlete’s salary could provide financial stability for my family. I don’t know what my sister Emma is going to do after high school, if she will live with my parents forever. Wouldn’t it be nice if I gave them some options?

The thing is, I’m not sure I can have both.

Nursing is one of the toughest degrees at Harrison, and not to brag, but the program only accepts about twenty-five percent of applicants.

It’s intense. And so is hockey. It might take me five years to graduate, and if I’m going to focus on going pro, I don’t know if I should stay here for that extra year for a degree I won’t use.

Not like I know how I’d pay for it, either.

My hockey scholarship is the only reason my family and I can afford the out-of-state tuition.

But I got into a top fifty nursing program. I passed the first part of the HESI exam. In my gut, I know I’d make a great nurse. Shouldn’t that count for something?

All this flashes through my mind as Jen smiles and traces her thumb along my palm. Whatever she wants, I’m not it.

I extricate my hand, trying to be nice. “Enjoy the games this year. I’ve gotta go, though.”

I salute her—who does that?—and turn around, heading back to my dorm.

Maybe this Cinderella thing has gotten out of hand. That’s what I call my mystery girl in my head. The girl I met at the hotel after the Championship, when we talked, connected, and shared the best kiss of my life.

And then she left without leaving anything behind. No name, number, or glass slipper. I searched every face on campus when we got back in April, but I haven’t found her yet.

Am I obsessed? Maybe a little. But I’m not creepy.

Next time I’ll stop before I grab a stranger.

At least it hasn’t progressed to carrying around a shoe or putting up flyers on campus.

I know I didn’t imagine the chemistry between us.

I’d like to talk to her again, spend time with her. A lot more time, if I’m being honest.

So while I won’t tell Evan—my best friend and the only person who knows about Cinderella—about today’s mishap, I still have hope. Harrison boasts over 40,000 students. Sure, it’s like finding a needle in a haystack. But I know she’s a hockey fan. Maybe I’ll see her at a game this year.

That puts some pep in my step. Cutting across the grass, I let myself into Hockey Hall, the nickname for my dorm.

It’s apartment-style, with four bedrooms and four bathrooms in each unit, centered around a living room and kitchen.

Right across the street from the hockey arena, it’s a convenient spot for all my teammates to live.

I take the elevator to the third floor and use my key code to let myself in.

And stop short. My heart pounds and my palms get sweaty. Am I hallucinating?

Because perched at my kitchen table is Cinderella.

Her blonde hair gleams in the afternoon light. Her blue eyes widen as they meet mine, as surprised as I feel.

My roommate Hunter peeks his head out from the refrigerator. “Oh, hey, Jonas. Have you met my sister Hadley yet?”

Sister . My feet are frozen on the doormat.

He keeps talking, unaware of my reaction. “Hadley, this is Jonas. One of my roommates. He’s on the hockey team.”

Hunter’s sister. That explains why her eyes were so familiar. Why didn’t I make the connection before? Hers are the exact same shade of vibrant blue as his. Her hair is blonde where his is brown, but I see the similarities now. They both have the same straight nose, the same strong jaw.

Things happen in slow motion. Hunter gives his sister a glass of water. Hadley doesn’t speak, doesn’t unglue her gaze from mine, and the tumbler slips through her fingers and shatters on the ceramic tile.

The sound breaks the spell.

“Shit,” Hadley whispers as we all drop to the ground. She reaches for the largest shard of glass.

“No, don’t—” I try to stop her, but she sits back on her heels, blanches, and holds up bloody fingers.

“Don’t touch it,” I finish, not fast enough. “You might get hurt.”

“Too late,” she says, looking woozy. All the color drains from her face, giving her skin a gray tinge. That’s a bad sign.

“Hunter.” I put my hand on the back of Hadley’s neck—not thinking about how silky her hair feels. “Does your sister by any chance pass out at the sight of blood?”

I apply a little pressure, forcing her to bend over and put her head between her knees.

Hunter shrugs. “I don’t know. We haven’t lived together for a long time.”

“Breathe through your nose,” I tell her, my voice soft but commanding. “Close your eyes.”

She complies, and I glance at Hunter. “Can you get gloves and the dustpan?”

He nods and hops up. I assess my patient.

“You still with me?”

“Uh-huh.” Her voice is faint but sends a thrill through me.

It’s her. I found her.

She’s Hunter’s sister, I remind myself. Focus!

“Okay, you’re doing great.” I shift my attention to my roommate as he sweeps up the broken glass. “Do we have any orange juice?”

“Yeah, I think so. Jasmine made mimosas to go with Guardians of the Galaxy . No gloves in here, though.”

I shake my head. I like Cooper’s girlfriend, and I’m thrilled for him. They are genuinely great together. Their love of sci-fi movies is just one thing they have in common. But why mimosas with Guardians ?

Hadley raises her head, capturing my attention. Her color is good, so I don’t protest.

“How do you feel?”

“Better.”

“Hunter, grab her some juice. I don’t want her to move yet, but that will help.”

“And a plastic cup,” he says under his breath as he finishes sweeping the glass.

“Close your eyes,” I tell Hadley. She tips her head back, leaning against the wall behind her, and I’m mesmerized by the long column of her throat as she swallows.

God, I’m going to make a terrible nurse if I get this distracted every time I have a gorgeous patient.

But it’s not anyone , my brain argues. It’s Cinderella .

Hadley, I correct. To redirect my attention, I grab her hand and inspect the cut. Along the pad of her index finger, it’s ugly but not deep.

“When you can stand, we need to flush the wound and?—”

“Nope,” she cuts me off, her voice stronger. “Don’t tell me about it or I’ll get woozy again.”

“Got it.” Hunter hands me orange juice—in a yellow plastic tumbler from a local pizza place—and I keep Hadley’s injured finger covered with my own.

“You can open your eyes and drink this.”

I have to keep my reaction hidden when her gaze meets mine. It’s like an electric current jolts down my spine. Does she feel it, too?

“Thanks,” she mumbles, sipping the juice. Hunter hovers nearby, his features drawn.

“Hunter, you wanna see if we have any Bandaids?”

He claps me on the shoulder as he stands. “I know she’s in good hands with you, Joe.”

I have a million questions, but they fly through my brain too fast to articulate as Hadley drinks her OJ.

“I think I feel better,” she says, staring into the cup, at the same time Hunter returns.

“I can’t find anything.” He shakes his head.

“That’s okay. If we can get Hadley to my room, I have a stocked first aid kit.”

“You ready?” he asks, and at her nod, he helps pull her upright. She doesn’t wobble—a positive sign—but Hunter doesn’t leave her side until she’s seated on the edge of my bed.

Cinderella is on my duvet. And it’s nothing like I imagined. Because while I’m a virgin, I’m not a monk. I fantasize as much as the next young, virile hockey player.

But she’s injured, and oh yeah—she’s my teammate’s sister.

“I’m going to finish cleaning the mess while you patch her up.” Hunter disappears back down the hallway into the living room, leaving me alone with Hadley.

I clear my throat. “Um, let’s get you into the bathroom. I need the sink to—” Her face, starting to return to a normal color, pales again. I remember what she said about discussing what I’m doing, and I stop.

Wrapping her arm around my neck, I inhale her scent as she leans against me. It’s sweet, reminiscent of cotton candy. Lickable.

God, I’m a mess. We only spent an evening chatting—how did this girl get so deep in my head?

I try not to embarrass myself during the few steps from my bed into my bathroom. Each bedroom has its own bathroom in Hockey Hall—a huge perk.

Grimacing at her reflection in the mirror, Hadley slips her arm off me—pity—and grips the edge of the countertop with her free hand until her knuckles turn white. Her posture is tense. “Okay, do your worst.”

Letting the water run in the sink, I raise a brow. What she needs is a distraction to keep her mind off of her injury. Which works well, because I have some questions.

“Hunter’s sister, huh? Is that something you maybe should have mentioned the night we met?”

“You didn’t ask.” Her eyes flash as I hold her hand under the stream of water. Thankfully, she gazes at me and not what I’m doing. “A hockey player? Don’t you think that’s something you should have mentioned?”

I shrug, not wanting to get into my reasons right now. “It’s complicated.”

She snorts. “That’s one word for it.”

“You could have given me your number. Or at least your name.”

“Why? So you could lie to me more about how you’re not a jock?”

I didn’t lie… but I wasn’t one hundred percent honest, either, so I don’t reply.

Instead, I stare at her hand. I’m sure I’ve flushed all the glass out of the cut.

I grab the first aid kit that’s under the sink and apply some Neosporin with a Q-Tip and put two Band- Aids across the wound.

“Keep it clean and dry, come back if you need me to change the Band-Aid.”

Hadley softens and stares at her finger. “Thanks. I—I didn’t expect to see you in my brother’s apartment.”

“Ditto. I’m sure this sounds pathetic, but I looked for you on campus and—oh god.” Something occurs to me. “You’re a freshman, aren’t you?”

“Yep.” She tucks a strand of her straight blonde hair behind her ear, smiling.

I wince. “That means last spring, you were a senior in high school. That’s gross.”

“I’m not gross!” She narrows her eyes at me, popping her hand on her hip.

“No, that’s not what I meant.” I sigh and run my hand through my unruly curls. Probably time for a cut soon. “I’m just saying—sophomores in college shouldn’t flirt with seniors in high school.”

“Wait, you were flirting? You’re really bad at it.”

“Hey, you kissed me back.” I take a step closer to her, remembering how soft her lips are. She stares at me, her pupils dilating. She tilts her head, and?—

“Hadley, you doing okay?” Hunter’s voice startles me, and I spring away from temptation.

“Yep, we’re great,” I hurry to say. “Good as new.”

Hadley holds up her bandaged finger to show her brother as he peers into the bathroom. She gives a grim smile.

“I’m fine. But I should probably go before I get into any more trouble.”

With one last glance, she pushes past me, and I get a whiff of cotton candy again. Damn, now I want to go to a carnival. Or kiss her. Or both.

“See ya later, baby sis. Be careful!” Hunter calls to her retreating back. He turns to me. “Thanks for your help, dude. I hope you don’t mind, but her mom asked me to keep an eye on her this year. Expect to see Hadley over here a lot.”

Great. Just great. My fairy godmother granted my wish. I found her. And my Cinderella is off-limits.