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CHAPTER FOUR

nate

She charges after me like a hellion on fire, her blades biting into the ice with an agitated fury. The sound is like a song that hasn’t been heard in a while, but the moment it comes on, all the words, all the feelings rush back.

I smile as I zip around the ice, a blur she can’t lose.

“You’re acting like a child!” she calls after me.

“Maybe I just want you to play with me,” I tease back, making my way around the rink before she can make her first turn, giving me the perfect view of her backside. Our skates slice at the rink as I come up behind her. My lips pass dangerously close to her ear as I say, “Boo.”

She jumps with a curse as I dart past before she can grab me. Her determined stare paints a target onto my back.

That’s right, Princess. Chase me.

I’ve always been fast on the ice. It’s what made me so good at hockey, the agility, the speed, the way I can make sharp turns look effortless.

All of it would’ve made me a great hockey player, but it makes me a lethal figure skater. My fluidity is unmatched.

Except for the one person who’s always been able to keep up with me.

Paige.

Always Paige.

But I notice she’s not skating as fast as she usually does. Something is holding her back. Probably whatever was making her jumps suck, too.

Paige doesn’t wrap her triple toes. It’s one of the easiest skills in her arsenal, as simple as breathing. And yet, I watched her do just that, over and over again. Easy mistake after easy mistake, watched as frustration built with every attempt, making the rigidness of her body yesterday look like an appetizer for the tension paralyzing her today.

I hate it.

Hate that a move so simple for her has now become a hurdle she can’t pass.

This isn’t fun for her anymore. I can see it as clearly as I see the mountains in the distance. And it’s destroying her. Jump by jump, mistake after mistake. She falls deeper into the pits.

I came out here this morning to talk to her, but I need her to loosen up first. And the only way to get Paige out of her head is to make her focus on nothing but skating.

Hence, making her chase me.

I know Paige thinks she’s hunting me, as we go round and round the ice, but there is no predator. And I’m no prey.

We’re not opponents fighting against each other. At least not right now. We’re a duality that can only exist together. Night and day. Thunder and lightning. Nate and Paige.

Together, we just make sense.

I just have to get her to see that. To look past the haze of rage that has clouded her stare for far too long and see me again. See us.

The conversation I had last night sits heavy on my phone, tucked away in my jogger’s pocket.

But I have a plan.

I make a sharp turn, causing my blades to kick up a spray of ice, narrowly missing Paige’s charging form as I sprint away from her.

“I’m going to strangle you, Nathan Ford!” Paige hollers after me, her tone as bitter as wind.

“Promises, promises, sweetheart.” I grin a sort of manic, crazy smile over my shoulder that feels like a balloon is inflating in my chest. “I’ll believe it when I feel it.”

She huffs in agitation as her skates rip at the ice, trying to catch up.

She will soon.

She always does.

I won’t even have to slow down my speed.

Whether it’s her steely grit or stubborn determination that makes her fly across the ice, I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter how far behind she is, how fast I’m skating, she will always catch me.

She just has to get out of her head first.

I skate faster, completing another lap when Paige spins around, now in front of me.

Her petite nose is scrunched like a rabbit’s, lips drawn in a tight line, and her eyes hone in on me like a prize.

Come and get me, then, I silently challenge her.

Oh, just you wait, her unflinching stare says back.

I give her a wink, turning back around as something tight in my chest unfurls.

A lightness I haven’t noticed missing begins to breathe life into my tired bones, and now that it’s here, I cling to it with a desperate need, not wanting this chase to end.

It feels like old times.

I know this might be hard to believe, but Paige is actually quite high-strung. Calm is not a word programmed into her personality. When other people say rest, she says in ten minutes.

But the ten minutes never come.

It’s so bad, I’ve actually seen her sleeptalk her way through routines before. And not in mumbles, but actual crisp, clear words passing through her unconscious mouth.

There’s nothing quite like sharing a hotel room with her, only to be woken up in the dead of night with her calling out this move or that one—like a sergeant calling out battle formations.

More than once, I’ve startled awake thinking we were under attack.

But I’ve never liked seeing a stressed Paige, so I started coming up with ways to get her to relax. Or at least give her a reprieve from the spirals in her head.

I’d skate up to her and snatch the water bottle or phone from her hands, I’d pull out the hair tie of her ponytail. Grabbing anything in the moment that would get her to chase me around the rink.

She’d shout profanities, cursing me five hundred ways to Sunday like she is now, but there would always be an ease to her features after—her stress gone. Even if for a few subsequent minutes, she had a break from the pressures she put on herself.

I wonder if she remembers any of those times. If they’re playing through her head right now like they are mine.

I steal a glance over my shoulder as I loop around a curve. Her jaw is locked, eyes sharp with a keen focus—dead set on me.

Eh, probably not. She’s too busy plotting all the ways to choke me.

I’m okay with that option, though.

“When you catch me,” I call out, “make sure to ask for my safe word before you start choking me.”

“You’re not going to need a safe word,” she promises, “because I’m not going to be stopping.”

I groan. “At least wait until we can properly act on these promises before you get kinky with me, Montgomery. It’s not fair to my delicate emotions.”

“The only delicate thing about you is your ego, Ford.” She sounds closer than she did a moment ago, and I speed up.

“Au contraire, mon amie. My ego is very robust, thanks to all you put it through.”

“Then I’m not trying hard enough,” she mumbles, and I think I’m not meant to hear it. But because I do, I flash her the smile I know she loves to hate.

She makes a sound deep in her throat, annoyed.

Just like I know what smiles of mine get under her skin, I know Paige’s habits.

Her schedule, even if she’s somehow convinced her mind she’s taking a vacation. She’s a creature of deeply ingrained habits. That doesn’t change if you take a break, so I knew I’d be able to find her at the rink early this morning.

Whether that was from her getting permission from the resort or sneaking onto the ice by herself, skating with only the light of her phone’s flashlight, I knew she’d be here.

Just like I know as a skating addict, Paige would a hundred percent break the law if it meant she’d get some ice time.

I just wasn’t sure when. So every hour since two a.m., British Columbia time, I’ve come out here, freezing my balls off to see if she’d show.

After my last time checking, seeing once again an empty rink, I meandered into town to the bakery, charming the owner Mrs. Jenkins into making me two drinks before they even opened.

By the time I came back, Paige was already here, looking all cute in her fuzzy sweater and leg warmers, even if she is dressed completely wrong for skating outside.

Watching her stand in front of me, shivering and teeth chattering, practically killed me, knowing she’d bite any part of my body that came near her if I tried to help her stop. I wanted to yank my hoodie off and throw it over her taut form. But the most I could do was offer her a piping hot cup of cocoa.

And even that was a struggle.

Stubborn, gorgeous girl.

At least I don’t have to worry about her freezing now. A thin layer of sweat covers my skin, which means Paige is probably burning up thanks to both the physical exertion and her vitriol for me on her side.

“Nate, look! Boobs!” Paige calls, and I instantly spin around, skating backwards to face her.

But I’m not greeted with boobs.

Just her shirt firmly in place over her chest.

“Liar.” I pout.

Her already red from exertion cheeks flush deeper, a look of death cloaking her delicate features. “Not mine, you fucking goon.”

“Who shouts ‘look, boobs’ if they’re not the one showing them?” Still skating backwards, I take a curve around the edge of the rink, and Paige’s nostrils flare.

Whether from my words or my movement—which was pretty freaking smooth, might I say—I don’t know, but I’m going to pretend she’s impressed by me.

Makes me feel more special, keeping my confidence healthy and all.

“Someone who clearly wants to get the upper hand.”

Now my frown turns more genuine. “And you thought boobs would do it?”

What are we, twelve?

“Well. Yeah.” Paige uses the opportunity to close in on me.

“Why?” I try to evade, but now that she’s finally making her move, I can’t shake her.

“Because you’re…you know.” She gestures to me, as if that explains it all. Getting closer.

“A guy?” I supply in a dry voice. “So that has to mean my brain automatically shuts down at the mere sight of boobs?”

“You turned, didn’t you?” she shoots back, hotly. Refusing to feel ridiculous for such a question.

“Yeah, because I thought you were talking about yours.”

She’s right in front of me now. I can see the freckles on her nose.

My frown turns upside down. Hi, Princess.

Her face drops in horror at my confession, mouth forming a perfect O . “As if ? —”

Paige doesn’t finish. She can’t.

We’ve been too focused on each other to notice the curve of the rink behind me. Before I can really process what’s happening, my back slams into the solid board a half a breath before Paige crashes into me. A small, rough “ Oomph ” on her lips as we collide.

My arms wrap around her automatically, to keep her from falling. Chest to chest, her legs slip between mine. Bringing us impossibly close.

All the parts of my body are touching all the parts of her body.

Years.

It’s been years since I’ve had Paige in my arms, since I’ve felt her weight against me. My hands tighten into fists against her sides as I fight the urge to bury my nose in the crook of her neck, tangle my fingers in her ponytail.

She still smells like warm vanilla and toasted marshmallow and mine.

Even if she doesn’t know it yet.

I stare down at her, tracing the curves of her cheeks, the slope of her nose. My eyes cataloging every freckle I’ve never forgotten. Her body is slick with sweat, making her skin almost glow, as her chest heaves like somewhere along the way she lost her breath and it’s yet to make it back to her.

And just for a moment, she doesn’t pull away.

She doesn’t slap me across the face.

She doesn’t choke me—I’ll be sad about this one later.

Instead, she shocks the hell out of me and presses her body against mine, as if a giant relief she hasn’t known she’s needed finally comes.

I feel her exhale into my hoodie, the sound burying deep inside my chest, as her body relaxes. Her tightened muscles waning. Finally allowing herself to rest.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice goes, It worked.

But I barely pay attention to it.

I don’t care about anything outside of this moment.

Paige, in my arms.

It feels right.

Like she’s never left.

Like we’re both finally home.

Slowly, she tilts her head up, meeting my stare, and I suck in a breath.

Her eyes are my favorite variation today. That blue-green swirling combo that only a poet could name looks like pools of water mixing together as they meet my steadfast gaze, widening at what she sees in them.

All the words I never gave her, all the regrets I’m ready to atone for.

I open my mouth to start what I came here in the first place to do when I hear myself say:

“For the record,” I breathe, and it has nothing to do with the heavy workout we just put our bodies through. “Next time you want to try that tactic, know the only boobs that will work on me are yours.”

I flinch. That is not what I meant to say. Not at all what I wanted to say. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

But before I can recover, take the words back, hoping that my new friend in red (Santa) shows up to reverse time, the trance Paige slipped under snaps. Freeing her.

Leave it to my fucking mouth to ruin a perfect moment.

“Ugh.” Paige’s face twists with disgust as she plants her palms on my chest and pushes away— hard.

I rub at my chest. Not because she hurt me—even with her muscle tone, Paige is still Paige, as intimidating and forceful as a feral kitten—but because it’s like she burned her palms into my skin. Through my layers and everything.

Paige skates backwards until there is a decent amount of distance between us.

Too far. She’s always too far away from me these days.

Reaching up, she tightens her ponytail. “Well, now that you’ve gotten being a disgusting pig out of your system, can we stop playing games?” She doesn’t wait for me to answer before she pushes forward. “What, exactly, do you know about me and Cole?”

I feel my face darken at the mention of his name. I almost forgot how we got caught up in our game to begin with. Then again, I try to forget anything about that fucking piece of shit pretending to be a man.

Why did she have to ruin this moment for me?

I reach behind me to grab the board. It’s easier to ignore the call to punch something if my hands are already occupied. “Does it matter?”

“I want to know what people are saying.” She ran away.

For once in her life, Paige has prioritized herself over her sport and it’s eating her up to not know what’s happening back at the rink.

Taking one hand off the board, I rub the back of my neck. “I heard that he told you he’s better off going solo, ending your partnership.”

“Yeah.” She looks down at her skates, digging her toe pick into the ice. “Apparently, he had been thinking about it for a while, but after we didn’t qualify for Nationals, he thought ‘what’s the point? We suck anyway.’”

“You don’t suck,” I’m quick to say.

She gives me a pointed look, her blue-green eyes flashing. “Did you not see us at the last competition? Or any of our competitions in the last two years?”

“I did, and I still stand by what I said. You don’t suck. Cole does.”

Always has.

“He doesn’t know how to skate as a team, only wanting to do what’s good for himself. You’re better off without him.”

A solo career will fit Cole’s selfish, self-serving, asshole attitude well. Then he’ll have no one to hide behind when he still continues to not place and will quit from the failure. Leaving me to never see his pompous face again.

I can’t wait.

“So people know, then.”

“Know that Cole is a fucking asshole?” Timidly, like approaching a wild animal, I skate towards her. Careful not to spook. “I hate to break it to you, Paige, but we’ve all known that for years.”

Ever since he destroyed half the men’s locker room at Charmed Athletic for coming in last in a game we were playing to kill time.

We were, like, eleven, and he’s only gotten worse as we get older. I’ve hated to see him skate with Paige. Hated that he got to skate with the most perfect person, and not only did he ruin it, but he’s left her so withdrawn into herself, she can’t even enjoy skating.

He stole her joy.

And I want to kill him for it.

“Not about that. But good to know my feelings are valid about him.” Paige drifts backwards. Away from me. “I’m now two-for-two on partners leaving me, though, aren’t I?” She doesn’t say it with the usual heat. Instead, she sounds tired.

“Is that what you actually care about?” I push off the board. “Not Cole?”

“Did you hear what else he told me?” She doesn’t answer me. I’m getting really tired of her doing this. But since it’s the holidays, I’ll play along. Because I’m on the nice list this year. “I’m assuming Stassi told you.”

I nod to both.

It didn’t take her long to find out.

“What did she say?” Paige hugs her elbows to her chest.

“That he told you you’re not as good as you think you are.” I hate relaying these words. I hate even thinking of them. But I need to get through this so she can hear what I can offer her. “That you’re washed up.”

I really hope he leaves Charmed after this. If not, my fist is going to love decorating his pretty boy face.

“What else?” She’s so small. Voice quiet.

“Paige.” My eyes plead with her.

“Tell me, Nate. I need to hear it.”

“He told you to retire.” For someone as dedicated and obsessed as Paige, telling her to retire is like telling her she’s dying.

She inhales, a flicker of raw pain rippling across her face until she schools it into a docile expression that she wears when she sits in the kiss and cry, the area where we wait to see our scores at competitions. Paige always guards her expression, not letting anyone see her sweat.

But I see her. Even when she tries to hide pieces of herself away.

Whether she’s right in front of me or across the room, I will always see her.

“Tell me you know he was just projecting.”

She doesn’t answer. This is why she’s been stuck in her head, missing jumps and skating slower. He’s gotten in, and now she’s turning his words over and over, trying to see if anything sticks.

I try to keep my own anger in check. But there is only one reason why Paige would finally take a vacation. And it’s not because she’s finally learned the benefits of prioritizing herself instead of figure skating.

It’s because she’s weighing her options.

“Paige, tell me you don’t actually believe him. That you’re not actually thinking about retiring.”

This time when she meets my eyes, I see the defeat shining back at me.

“I don’t know, but I can’t really be a pairs skater without a partner, can I?”