Page 1

Chapter 1

Ginny

E ach and every time I step on the ice, I wonder why I’m here. Why did I leave the three most amazing men to be here, miserable, with my father and Antony?

My mind drifts back to my time at the Poconos, to happy memories with Chase, Carter, and Blake. I know they were mad when I left, and it took everything in me to not answer their calls and texts until eventually I just stopped using the phone. Turning it off broke my heart. It was my last lifeline to them. But no, I wasn’t allowed that kind of respite. Dear Old Dad insisted I have one, so to keep myself from breaking apart, I lied to him and got a new number. When Dad questioned it, I shrugged it off, claiming someone with the wrong number kept messaging me and it was getting creepy. He didn’t hesitate to go along with it, especially now that he had me here, under his ever-watchful eye.

“Again.” My father’s sharp voice cuts through the cold air as he stands stoically at the side of the rink, arms crossed over his chest. He studies mine and Antony’s movements intently.

I haven’t even been here for two weeks and all he’s done is keep us in the rink for hours, barking critique’s. I remember now why I started hating the sport I once loved. Today, though, his precious hockey team has their first practice, the boys he puts above his own daughter. It’s one reason I don’t date hockey players. It’s not their fault, they don’t even know why I resent them. It’s my own little fuck you to my father.

But today, I’m looking at it as a blessing, a chance to have a few stolen moments to myself. It means he has less time to interfere in my life and maybe, just maybe, I can muster up the nerve to explain to him that I just want a normal life. One where I can hang out with my friends, eat all the junk food I want, maybe even have a boyfriend.

“Geneva, get your head in the game. You’re never going to make it to the Olympics if you're off in the clouds. This isn’t just your chance but Antony’s as well.” My father’s sharp, grating voice makes me cringe.

Game, really? This isn’t a game, Dad. Wrong sport . I roll my eyes but shake off my thoughts, ones that still hurt so much to linger on. It’s over, and I’ll never see them again, so I just need to accept what this is. Maybe if I give my dad what he wants, he’ll finally see me as more than just some girl he’s stuck raising because we share DNA. Maybe, just maybe, he’ll see me as his daughter.

“What’s going on with you?” Antony leans in and whispers in my ear as I move into position in front of him.

“Nothing.” It’s a lie, but I’m not about to bare my soul to him. Not when his loyalty lies entirely with my father. Antony only thinks about one person—himself. He only wants to continue skating with me for the opportunities he thinks he’ll get from it.

I lower my head, my eyes focusing on the ice as the music begins—a haunting melody that seems to echo through the empty arena and my heart. A sharp parallel to the emotions already running rampant inside me. We stand there motionless in the middle of the rink, our hands gently intertwined, waiting for the note that begins our routine.

Antony is a great partner when he wants to be. I can give credit where it’s due, but he’s just not the perfect partner for me . He’s tall and strong, and I’m petite and graceful—a combination that should be flawless for dance partners. Yet somehow, the connection we need to truly shine just isn’t there. We’re polar opposites, and instead of melding together as one, we counteract each other.

With the first swell of the music, we move in perfect synchronicity. Our skates carve delicate, intricate patterns into the ice as we glide effortlessly across it. We perform a series of side-by-side triple toe loops, our timing perfect as our blades strike the ice simultaneously. I don’t need to hear the applause of the crowd to know we landed it perfectly; my father’s smile from halfway across the rink tells me all I need to know.

As the tempo quickens, Antony grips my hips tightly, lifting me into the air. My arms stretch gracefully above my head, my body arching as he spins us both before tossing me forward, my blades landing smoothly on the ice.

I take a deep breath, anticipating my next move, just as I hear deep, raised voices entering the rink; my dad’s team. I’m a little shocked that he’s allowed our training to be so close to the time the team’s practice is supposed to start.

Antony takes hold of my hand as we slip into position for our death spiral. He grips my hand tightly as he bends his knee, lowering his body to the ice, and rotating. I lean back, my body nearly parallel to the ground as my fingertips brush the ice.

“Perfect,” my dad shouts. Guess that made him happy. Finally.

It’s down to this one move, our signature move: a throw triple lutz. Antony propels me high into the air, my body spinning like a snowflake in a storm, before I land with precision, my arms outstretched as I relish in my triumph at sticking the landing.

Our blades continue to weave in an intricate pattern across the rink with sharp and precise footwork. We circle one another before finally coming together for a tender embrace, ending our routine.

“It’s almost perfect.” My father boasts as we skate across the ice toward him.

“What?” I blurt, shocked at his emphasis on almost.

“He’s just saying there are some areas we need to fine-tune. We need perfect scores to make it to the Olympics. A mediocre routine with flaws isn’t going to do that, Geneva.” I roll my eyes at Antony calling me that. He knows I hate the formality of the name and he only does it because of my father.

“Hold up a second Antman, you got something on your nose.” I spit on my fingers and wipe the nonexistent shit from the brown noser’s face.

“Geneva, stop with the horseplay. I expect it from my boys, but not from you. Tomorrow, we’ll be here at five a.m. and practice until noon. Watch the footage we filmed yesterday and when I’m done here, we can go over it. Antony, son, join us for dinner tonight.” I’m surprised he doesn’t have him staying with us. Instead, he has him housed at an Airbnb. “Good job, guys. Practice is over. I’ll see you at home.”

I tense as I hear the teams’ voices grow louder. Hopefully, none of them are foolish enough to make a lewd comment at me in front of my father.

“Okay, Dad.” I’m just ready to get out of here.

I turn to leave, coming face to face with my father’s team. My mouth drops open, my eyes widen, and my heart gallops in my chest. What the fuck? There’s no way. There’s no way. It’s not possible. I rub my eyes vigorously, praying that when I’m done, it’ll just be a mirage and not my whole world crumbling at my feet.

But when I gaze back in their direction, nothing’s changed, and I move toward the three men who’ve taken up residence in my mind and heart.

“Chase, Blake, Carter. What are you doing here?” I’ve barely gotten the words out when I feel Antony’s hand slip around my waist, as if I’m his property.

“We were wondering the same thing about you,” Blake barks, and my heart shatters at the cruelness in his voice.

“Boys, it’s time to get on the ice. This beautiful woman is my daughter and off limits,” my dad announces loudly.

“Come on, Geneva, we need to get home.” Antony leans in, kissing me on the cheek. I’m too stunned to even think about what he just said or did, to push him away or kick him in his nuts.

“Yeah, Geneva, you need to go,” Blake snarls before moving past me to the ice, quickly skating to the center of the rink. Yep, he’s pissed.

“What are you doing here, Ginny? And skating? You said you couldn't?” A raging storm of emotions and questions swirl in Chase’s eyes, dimming the bright spark they once held within them. Is it because of me? The glassy sheen of unshed tears showcase how vulnerable he truly is. His gaze is directed at me but distant, as he stalks the movement of the man that just left. Did something happen between them?

“I’m done.” Chase throws his hands in the air, giving me one final look before heading onto the ice.

“Why? Can you answer that?” Carter asks as the tips of Antony’s fingernails dig into my skin.

“GiGi, who is this? How do you know him? I didn’t realize you had visited your dad during training season. When did you slip away from me?” Of course, Antony’s going to butt in and fucking stir the pot, placing another kiss on the side of my face as he pulls me tighter to him.

What the fuck? Is he trying to show ownership of me like I’m a fucking possession?

“It’s a long story. Please—”

“You know what… forget it, save it for some other poor sap you want to fuck with. I’m done.” Carter snaps and shifts his eyes to Antony. “Sorry dude, I didn’t know she had a boyfriend.” He skates away, not even giving me a second look, and my heart breaks again, just like it did that morning I walked away.

My eyes follow his movement as he skates onto the ice, and I notice that none of them are near each other, placing as much distance as possible between one another.

“Good riddance. I’m glad I was here to save you from those Neanderthals of your dad’s. But one question. How do you know them? I thought you had a firm no hockey player rule.” Antony’s jealousy leaks through, dripping off each word.

It finally registers that I’m still in Antony’s arms and how that may have looked to them. I pull out of his grasp and shove him away. “What the fuck, Antony? What’s with the controlling boyfriend vibes?”

“I was saving you. Sorry if you don’t know what that looks like. Besides, who are they?”

“No one.” It’s a lie, but he doesn’t need to know who they really are. No, not who they are to me… more like who they were, because they're not mine anymore. I have to remember they were just a holiday fling and nothing more. I can’t let my feelings get in the way of my plans for the Olympics. Or rather, my plans to live a life of happiness.

“Didn’t seem that way. I wonder what your dad would think.” He smirks with disdain as he glares at the ice, his eyes moving between the three men now gathered around my father, with distance still between them.

“It doesn’t matter because there’s nothing to tell,” I state firmly.

“Good. I have big plans for my future including medaling at the Olympics. I’m not going to let what I assume to be easy fucks mess that up.” I’ve never heard such bitterness come from his mouth. Is the true Antony finally coming out to play?

I’m fuming inside, but I can’t let him know that his words have hit a nerve. Not giving him a second look, I step over to my bag where it sits on the edge of the ice, pull out my blade guards, and slip them on. I don’t even care about going to my dad’s office to change. I’m getting the fuck out of here.

I take one final look back at the rink before storming off.

I need to remember they’re hockey players, and on my “fucking not ever” list, no matter how bad I wish for something different.