Page 4

Chapter three

Is that a foam finger, or are you just happy to see me?

Charlotte - 12 Years Ago

I flinch as the first crack of thunder reverberates through the woods, my heart leaping into my throat. The sky, bright and clear only an hour ago, is now dark and churning with the promise of rain.

“Uh, Jake?” I glance over at him, struggling to keep my voice steady. “Is this normal?”

He looks up at the sky, a small grin tugging at his lips. “Yeah, summer storms roll in pretty quick around here. No biggie, but we should head back.”

Another bolt of lightning splits the sky, so close I swear I feel it, and I clench my fists as my nerves jangle. Back in New Zealand, storms are nothing like this. Here, the air feels charged, like it could spark at any second.

Jake chuckles, clearly amused by my reaction. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little thunder and lightning?”

“Not usually,” I say, my voice wavering as the wind gusts and rustles the trees around us. “But this is different.”

As if to prove my point, a bolt of lightning flashes followed by a thunderclap so loud it feels like it’s shaking the ground beneath us. I yelp, grabbing onto Jake’s arm.

The rain starts, hard and sudden, drenching us within seconds. The path back to camp quickly blurs in the downpour, and I can barely see past the sheets of rain cascading down in front of us. Jake’s expression changes, noticing the worry I’m trying to hide.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he says, his tone softer. “I was just messing with you. We’re safe, I promise.”

But the thunder’s relentless rumble makes my heart race, and I feel a panic rising in my chest that I can’t quite stifle. I keep clinging to him, needing his solid presence.

Jake reaches an arm out, pulling me in. “I’ve got you, Charlie girl."

With his arm around me, we start moving again, picking our way carefully through the woods. Despite the chaos around us, Jake’s calmness feels like an anchor, steadying me with every step.

When we finally reach the edge of camp, soaked but safe, I let out a shaky breath. We duck under the porch of a nearby cabin, the rain still pounding down around us, but it doesn’t seem as frightening now.

“You okay?” Jake asks, brushing a wet strand of hair away from my face. A line of concern deepens between his brows, and it warms me from the inside out.

“Yeah,” I say, my voice still a little shaky. “Thanks to you.”

He responds with a soft smile. “You’re tougher than you think, Charlie. You weathered the storm.”

The way he says it, like it’s a fact that's plain as day, makes me believe it. Even if it's just for a moment.

***

Charlie - Present Day

I pull my newly acquired burgundy-and-blue scarf tighter around my neck as Zoe practically drags me through the crowded concourse of the arena. She insist ed I wear Colorado Storm colors tonight, and now I see why. Without this scarf, I’d stick out like a sore thumb in a sea of jerseys, face paint, and foam fingers. Even with it, I feel conspicuously out of place.

I’m barely two weeks into my new life in Denver, and Zoe’s already taken it upon herself to make me a hockey fan. Tonight is the Storm’s season home opener—a huge deal, apparently. Honestly, I wouldn’t know. Ice hockey barely exists in New Zealand. I’ve never seen a game live, but Zoe’s been hyping this up for days and I’m keen to see what the fuss is about.

As we enter the arena, the hum of excited voices, the smell of buttery popcorn, and the distant scrape of skates against ice hit me all at once. I feel like I’ve stepped into a completely different world. Everyone here seems so at home, and here I am, just hoping to blend in.

“You’re going to love this!” Zoe says, practically bouncing towards our seats as the Colorado Storm players skate around for warm-ups. “Plus, number 27 is out there tonight—total legend. Incredible player. Women go nuts for him.”

I nod absently, half-listening as we settle into our seats. Zoe’s enthusiasm is infectious, but my mind’s wandering. I’m still trying to figure out the rules of this sport. We’re sitting close enough that I can see the sweat on the players as they whiz past, but they all look like armored giants out there. The only way to really tell them apart is by their numbers.

“There,” Zoe says, pointing toward the ice. “Number 27. He’s like... an ice god.”

I laugh. “ Ice God ?”

“Well, he moves like one.” She raises her eyebrows suggestively. “Trust me, once you see him up close, you’ll get it.”

I snort, sipping my beer as she rattles off the team roster like she’s naming items on a menu. I may not know much about hockey yet, but I can appreciate the buzz. The warm-up drills fade into anticipation as the players leave the ice and then come back a while later for the anthem and face-off. The arena hums with energy, a charged excitement that’s hard not to get caught up in.

Beer in hand, I nibble on a pretzel and try not to look too out of place as the game begins. The puck drops, and the players explode into action, their moveme nts fluid and powerful like it’s second nature. And that’s when I hear the announcer.

“Jake Brooks with the puck!”

I freeze mid-sip. What the fuck did they just say? Jake Brooks ? I glance at the ice, scanning the players as they whizz around, but my eyes can’t seem to focus. Zoe’s still talking through plays, oblivious to the mini heart attack happening right next to her.

I squint at number 27 as he skates past. Broad shoulders, strong jawline, a face that’s... holy shit. My beer almost slips from my hand as my heart gives a weird little lurch.

It’s Jake. My Jake. From camp.

I slowly blink as my brain scrambles to process. My pulse races, and I grip my cup a little tighter as I do a quick mental calculation. Twelve years. It’s been twelve years since I’ve seen him . I could kick myself for not connecting the dots sooner. Zoe’s been yapping about him nonstop, and he’s right there , gliding on the ice like he owns the place, all stubbled and chiseled like some rugged superhero. Like an ice god .

The memories rush back, and suddenly I’m not at an ice hockey game. I’m at camp, sitting by a fire under the stars, talking all night about dreams, fears, and life. Laughing for hours until our eyes were shiny with tears. We never got together back then, but I wanted to. I think he did, too. But we were so young, and life happened to you back then. So we said goodbye, thinking the world was too big for us to hold onto each other.

“Everything okay?” Zoe asks. I break out of my trance to see her frowning. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Uh...” I try to play it cool, but I’m rattled. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

But I’m not. Not even close. My stomach’s flipping around like a pancake on speed.

“You’re acting weird.”

“I’m not!” I blurt, forcing a smile and taking a slug of my beer. “I'm just—”

Before I can finish, the Jumbotron flickers, and I appear on the screen. I’m met with a giant version of my startled face, in fucking high definition .

I choke on my drink, sputtering beer down my chin as I try to hide behind my napkin. Zoe cackles beside me. “Oh my God, wave , you weirdo!” She nudges me, but it jolts the beer in my hand, sending it splashing all over my top.

Perfect.

The arena erupts in laughter as I sit there mortified, dabbing at my shirt with the most useless paper napkin to ever grace the earth. I’m covered in soggy pretzel, and my face is stuck on the jumbotron like a bad Tinder profile.

I hesitate, cheeks burning, but finally lift my hand in an awkward wave to the cheers of the crowd.

“I’m going to die. Right here, right now,” I mutter, trying to shrink into my seat.

After what feels like 143 years of Zoe cackling and trying to help dab at my shirt, the camera pans away. I let out a shaky breath and glance back at the ice, only for my pulse to cartwheel again. Jake’s staring.

Right at me .

Our eyes lock for what feels like an eternity. I gulp. He stares. I dart my eyes away, then back again. He's still staring. He looks... surprised? Confused? Maybe both. I don’t dwell on it because now I’m panicking, wondering if there’s any way I can crawl under this seat and live there for the rest of my life.

And what does he do? He smiles at me. A slow, familiar grin that makes my heart ache with memories. One that makes me think he hasn’t even registered the absolute clown show I’ve just performed to a full arena. My breath catches in my throat, and I force myself to look away as all the feelings I buried years ago come rushing back.

This is insane.

I stare down at my half-spilled beer, trying to regain some semblance of normalcy, but my heart’s still racing like I’ve downed three espressos. Jake’s here, on the ice, looking like some Greek God who traded Mount Olympus for a hockey rink.

And I’ve just done my best impression of a soggy human pretzel in front of him. Brilliant.

The periods pass in a blur, with Zoe narrating each play in my ear. As the game goes on, I steal glances at him, my heart leaping every time he comes near our side of the rink. At one point, there’s a scuffle on the ice. I look over to see Jake locked in a heated exchange with an opposing player .

The crowd goes still, holding its breath as the other guy shoves him. Jake doesn’t flinch, his jaw set, eyes blazing as he knocks the player to the ground. He’s utterly unbothered, and the confidence radiating off him is attractive as hell.

The ref intervenes to separate them, and as Jake skates past us, he glances in my direction and locks eyes with me again. Then, as if he’s done it a thousand times, he fucking winks at me .

My stomach flips. Zoe, oblivious to my internal meltdown, sighs dramatically. “He’s so great with the crowd, such a media darling.”

“Uh-huh,” I manage, cheeks heating up all over again.

After the final buzzer sounds, the crowd starts to pour out of the arena. But instead of heading for the exits like a sane person, Zoe grabs my arm, steering me toward the tunnel.

“What are you doing?” I hiss.

“Just wanna congratulate the boys and see if I can get a quick Insta update,” she says breezily as we weave through the crowd.

Before I can object, we’re at the tunnel, the noise of the crowd fading into the background. My heart’s pounding and I can’t decide if I want to run, hide, or spontaneously combust. I’m about to see Jake. After twelve freakin’ years. What am I supposed to say?

Hey, remember me? The girl you stayed up all night talking with at camp, but never kissed?

I run through my options. Act casual? Pretend like seeing him doesn’t feel like being hit by a semi-truck? Laugh it off? Get very drunk in the next five minutes? The only thing I know for sure is that my heart is pounding so loudly, I’m sure he’ll hear it.

One by one, the players start emerging and I lose all brain function. They’re all towering giants in suits and ties. Zoe’s camera is already out, snapping photos like she’s on a red carpet. Chase Walton, the team’s notorious playboy and perpetual thorn in Zoe’s side, is the first to appear. He’s exactly how Zoe described him: pure swagger. He lights up as soon as he spots Zoe.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite PR Queen.”

“ Go away, Walton.” She rolls her eyes but lifts her camera for a quick snap. “Don’t you have fangirls to tend to?”

“I’m free for drinks if you are,” he fires back with a wink.

“I’d rather eat glass,” she retorts, but her lips twitch like she’s fighting a smile. “Now, stand still so I can get a photo and be done with you.”

Watching them banter is almost enough to distract me. Almost. Because then, like a figure pulled straight from my most vivid memories, someone steps into my peripheral vision. My heart stutters when I look over, and there he is. Jake Brooks. Our eyes meet, and he freezes, like he’s just been caught staring.

“ Charlie? ” He says my name like he’s not sure if he’s dreaming, slowly closing the distance.

His voice is deeper now, but I’d know it anywhere. And God, he’s grown into himself. Taller than I remember. Broader, more self-assured, with those same hazel eyes that once felt like the safe harbor in my storm. Warm, piercing, and entirely too familiar.

“Uh, yeah.” I give a small wave, then instantly regret it because who waves at someone standing right in front of them? “Hey, Jake.” My voice comes out embarrassingly breathy, and I immediately want to crawl under a rock.

For a heartbeat he just stares at me, eyes sweeping over my face like he’s trying to fill in twelve years of missing memories. “I can’t believe it’s you.”

“Yeah, I—uh—same,” I laugh, nerves bubbling up. “You look different. Good! I mean, really good. Not that you didn’t before, but now... yeah.” Stop talking, you fool. Just stop.

To my relief, he chuckles, and it’s that same soft laugh I remember. “You too. Better than good, actually.” His gaze moves over me again like he’s cataloging every change.

Heat rises to my cheeks. I barely know what to do with my hands, or my heartbeat, or any part of me at all. His presence feels familiar but magnified, like everything about him has somehow sharpened since we were younger. It’s unnerving.

“Hang on,” Zoe interrupts, her eyes bouncing between us with barely restrained glee. “You two know each other?”

I l et out another nervous laugh, unable to peel my eyes from Jake even as I answer her. “We, uh, met at summer camp. A long time ago.”

“Camp?” Zoe’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wait, wait, wait. You and Jake Brooks were camp buddies ?”

“Something like that,” Jake says, his eyes still on me like he’s remembering every detail. Every time I’d tease him about his ego, every night we’d stay up too late talking, every moment we almost-but-never crossed the line.

“Oh, this is too good,” Zoe says, practically vibrating. “I need details.”

Before I can reply, Chase butts in, sliding an arm around Zoe. “Details? This sounds like a fun conversation.”

“Get off me, Walton!” Zoe shrugs him off, which only seems to widen Chase’s grin. “This is important.”

I steal another glance at Jake, who’s still watching me. Everything feels surreal in this moment. The memories of our past have collided with this very real moment, somehow threading us back together. Like time is folding in on itself, bringing us right back to the beginning.

“So…” Jake steps a little closer, hands in his pockets, voice casual. “Are you here now? In Denver?”

I nod, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “Yeah, we just moved. New job, new city, new everything.”

His eyebrows lift, barely a fraction. “We?”

“Me and my kids. Noah and Meadow.”

Jake’s expression shifts slightly, something like surprise flashing across his face. I can practically see him trying to piece things together. He nods slowly. “That’s amazing, Charlie. I bet they keep you busy.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” I laugh, shaking my head.

Jake chuckles, but I can tell there’s another question lingering behind his eyes. “So, is it just you and the kids here, or...?”

There it is. I feel the tiniest jolt at his question, even though I know he’s trying his best to ask politely.

“Smooth,” I say playfully, covering my nerves. “But it’s just me and the kids. No husband if that’s what you’re asking.”

His should ers relax and his mouth curls at the edges. “Still sharp as ever, huh?”

Our eyes lock as we grin at each other, and in that instant it’s like we’re back under the stars at camp, two kids with dreams bigger than we could even understand. There’s so much I want to say, but every word feels tangled up in my chest.

Just as Jake’s about to speak, Chase swoops in again. “If you ever need a babysitter so you can catch up with this guy, I’m available.”

Zoe makes a sound of utter disbelief. “You? Babysit ? Please. They’d be zip-lining off the roof within an hour.”

“I’m a fun uncle,” Chase retorts, his eyes twinkling mischievously as they lock on Zoe. “I could keep ‘em entertained, you could tag along. It’d be a blast.”

Zoe’s expression turns deadpan. “Over my dead body, Walton.”

Jake smirks but his eyes drift back to me, a trace of hope in them as he steps just a little closer. “So… drinks?” His voice is quietly hopeful. “To catch up?”

There’s an eagerness in his gaze, and for a moment I want to say yes. But the kids are at home, and Jade’s on the clock. I gesture awkwardly over my shoulder, like the answer is there waiting. “I can’t. Babysitter, jet lag, the whole bit.”

Zoe, ever the gatekeeper of my energy, jumps in. “Yeah, sorry boys. My favorite Kiwi can’t be tuckered out before she even gets started. But I’ll see you both on Monday for the team catch-up.”

“Are you back on Monday, too?” Jake asks, a hopeful smile still on his face.

I let out a soft chuckle. “‘Fraid not, I’m not the sports gal at the agency—I’m FMCG.”

Jake’s smile falters just a bit, but he nods. “Maybe another time?”

I give a small noncommittal shrug, feeling my stomach twist. “Maybe. It’s just… a lot right now.”

He studies me for a second, like he’s trying to gauge how real that answer is. “Well, whenever you’re ready, it’d be so good to catch up.”

Sensing the tension, Zoe swoops in. “Alright, time for us to head out before Walton involves us in some depraved fangirl pick’n mix.”

Chase gives a dramatic sigh. “Ladies, you’re missing out. It could’ve been epic.”

“ Hard pass,” she fires back, already grabbing my arm and steering me away.

I glance back over my shoulder one last time to find Jake still watching me, his expression thoughtful, almost like he’s holding onto the weight of every word we just exchanged.

He raises a hand in a small wave, and I return it, my heart still racing.

Back in Zoe’s car, she takes a deep breath and turns to me with the biggest shit-eating grin I’ve ever seen. I do my best to look clueless.

“What?”

“Don’t what me—you know exactly what!”

Sighing, I lean my head back against the seat. “Fine. We met one summer at Camp America when we were like, eighteen. Both counselors for a group of sports kids. Nothing happened.”

Zoe arches an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Just friends?”

“Just friends. And I haven’t seen him for twelve years !”

She bites her lip, clearly plotting something, her cinnamon eyes sparkling with mischief. “For the love of God, just say whatever you’re thinking,” I mutter, bracing myself.

She laughs as she clicks her seatbelt. “Fine, I’m thinking thaaaat… this is the perfect way to give a giant fuck you to Alex.”

I scoff. “ What ?”

She puts the car in drive, backing out of the lot slowly. “Oh, come on! It’s perfect. Jake is so hot, you could fry an egg on his abs.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “No. No Zoe. I can’t mix work and men.”

“Technically, you’re not. He’s one of my clients—not yours.”

I shake my head again, firmer now. “I’m not here to get laid. I’m here to start a new life.”

Zoe scrunches her nose. “As a nun ?”

“Yes…” I pause, thinking it over. “No. But I need to sort my shit out before I jump into anything. My mind is a mess right now.”

Her face softens and she’s quiet for a beat, like she’s mulling something over. “Well, Sister Charlie, he looked at you like he was ready to eat you alive. And hockey player s have huuuuge… appetites.”

I close my eyes. “Unbelievable. You know you’re unbelievable, right?”

Zoe beams, unbothered. “I’m regularly told I’m hard to believe, yes,” she says, turning up the music as we pull onto the street.

She glances one more time at me as we stop at a red, but doesn’t say anything else. I’m grateful she’s not pushing me too much on this. I close my eyes, trying to ground myself, but it’s no use.

His smile, his laugh, his warmth—it’s all there, exactly where I left it.