Page 1 of The Pucking Fake Marriage (The Ice Kings #4)

PROLOGUE

SHATTERED DREAMS (CHARLIE)

Tomorrow, I’m turning eighteen.

But tonight’s already the best night of my life.

“You have no freaking idea how much I’m going to miss you,” Kali says. His hands are warm and comforting as they grab me and pull me closer. I giggle, overcome with happiness as I return his kiss.

“I’ll miss you, too.”

It’s a promise, though not one that I’m making with a lot of conviction. Kali and I won’t be apart for long anyway. It’s one of the perks of having your life planned way before you become a teenager. Even when we were kids, Kali and I both knew what we wanted—to spend our future dancing.

It's a dream that’s coming true for me now. Tomorrow, I’m joining the Philadelphia Ballet. Thinking of that fills me with such excitement that I could burst into happy tears. Kali wasn’t selected the last time we went for auditions. However, his friend has a mother who works in the ballet administration, and she told him that he’s first on the waiting list and that it was very likely that he would get in.

In less than two months, we’ll be reunited again, facing our new lives as partners.

He holds me even tighter. I curve my body against his, making a mental note of every detail. His graceful, yet muscular form, his straight posture—becoming of a man who’s a dancer—the sharp angles of his face, his black curls, the piercing blue eyes that stare at me now as he leans in for another kiss.

Kali’s the only boyfriend I’ve ever had. We bonded over our love of dance. I have a lot of friends, including Kali’s identical twin Ken, but something about our shared passion makes our bond special.

“I wish you could stay here,” he mutters, nuzzling his face into my neck. I grin. His touch feels like an old, comforting blanket, one that I like to sink into. “It’s the last night before I’ll be seeing you in a while.”

I shake my head, laughing again. Tonight feels magical, curling up in my boyfriend’s bedroom while the seconds tick away in silence. “Your mom’s going to kill you if she finds out I’m still here. Remember the night she busted Ken when he came home with Amy Frasier?”

He shuts off the light, immersing the room in near darkness, though the moon’s rays streaming through the window give me a good view of his face.

He looks annoyed.

I’m not surprised. The Edward twins are the spitting images of each other. But they’ve never really gotten along. The whole neighborhood knows it, and no one can figure out why since both boys are perfectly likable and friendly in their own right.

The last thing I want right now is to think of Kali’s beef with Ken, but I find myself wondering once again why they dislike each other. They have very different interests; Ken cares more about hockey and thinks a dancing career is a waste of time. As their next-door neighbor, I practically grew up in their house, and I also noticed that Mr. and Ms. Edwards show far more support for Kali’s pursuits than Ken’s, mostly because they were ballet dancers themselves. Ken was usually the odd one out, something I could relate to. Still, I’m not sure that’s enough reason for the hostility between them.

“Fine,” Kali growls, and I find myself giggling again. I think of how Ken would be proud of me. He always has a smile on his face, encouraging me to see things in a positive light.

Kali looks partly confused and partly furious. He ignores my lightheartedness, preferring to burrow his face in my chest. I tense for a moment, wondering if we’re going to have sex tonight. We’ve never done it, mostly because of my hesitancy. To be honest, I’m not a hundred percent sure that he’s the one.

He doesn’t push anyway. He merely keeps holding me tight, as if he is scared of letting me go.

“You don’t need to worry about us being apart,” I say, suddenly feeling remorseful about my good fortune. “We’ll see each other in eight weeks.”

Kali pauses for a second. “Eight weeks. Yeah.”

We are silent for a few more seconds. I listen to the sound of my beating heart, and I realize that underneath all the excitement, I am nervous.

“Do you think the other ballet dancers will be better than me?” I’m almost embarrassed admitting to my insecurity. I rarely ever confess my fears out loud, thanks to my mother’s views on “weak emotions,” which, as she points out often enough, I have in abundance. I’ve slipped up once or twice with Ken, especially when he started to talk about his own worries of not being a good enough hockey player. But Kali is so confident about his dancing that it feels childish to tell him about my insecurities.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Kali dismisses me with annoyance in his voice. I ignore the sting of disappointment. I try also not to think about what Ken’s reaction would’ve been had I told him. He’s always known the right thing to say, something that would reassure me and get me on the right track again.

Once more, I try not to compare the two brothers. Kali isn’t good with emotions, especially when he’s still dealing with the crushing blow of being placed on the Philadelphia Ballet’s waitlist. He can be sweet when he wants to, though. His birthday gifts are so thoughtful that they make me cry. On the other hand, Ken just gets me the same kind of ballet shoes every year.

Maybe my mother’s right. Relying on others to calibrate your emotions will only leave you bleeding.

Kali sighs loudly. A part of me perks up with hope, thinking he’s going to say something profound or encouraging. But all he does is uncurl himself from me. “I’ve got to run to the bathroom.”

He gets off the bed, opens the door, and slips out, leaving it slightly ajar. The light from the corridor spills into a small portion of the room, along with an eerie silence. I glance at my watch. It’s ten o’ clock, and I know Kali’s parents are already in bed—they are sticklers for going to sleep early. For a moment, I think of Ken hanging out by himself, and feel an overwhelming need to go to him and stay for a while, the way I’ve done many times before. I haven’t exactly told him goodbye, and I’m going to miss him.

But the last night should belong to the boyfriend, shouldn’t it ?

I snuggle into the covers, inhaling deeply. The room smells of roasted nuts and vanilla. Ms. Edwards, about the best cook in the world, made an extravagant dinner to celebrate my departure. I’m still tingling from how good the foods tasted. For a moment, I feel a twinge of regret that I won’t be able to enjoy her dishes as often as I do now, but I’m quickly distracted by a noise coming from outside the door.

Kali, I think immediately, sitting up in bed. A shadow falls across the doorway, and a figure appears.

“Took you long enough,” I say.

He walks toward the bed. I notice a second before he sits that his movements are jerky, nervous, lacking the grace he’s often praised for. The bed depresses with his weight, and his arms find my waist and pull me in. Something about his touch is different. Sensual, more tingly.

And then, for the first time in my life, I feel it.

Butterflies.

“Kali,” I mutter. I’m suddenly lit on fire from within; the need to touch him is too strong, too intense. I place my hand on his shoulder, but it feels bulkier than I remember. I rear back, and the hall light casts a glow on his face.

Oh my God.

“ Ken.”

I pull away, feeling more awkward by the minute. Not just because my boyfriend’s twin is touching me in a way he never has before. But because I’m feeling things that should be reserved for my boyfriend.

I expect Ken to pull back too. But he does nothing of the sort. Instead, his hold on my waist tightens.

“There’s something I have to tell you,” he says. His voice is hard, raspy. My eyes are adjusting to the darkness, and his handsome face, so like his brother’s, is pulled into a solemn expression. “I knew I should have told you before, but… I was hesitant.”

“Ken, I?—”

“I love you.”

I’m struck dumb.

“I love you, Charlie. I don’t just think of you as a friend. I’m completely and utterly in love with you. You’re the most amazing, most beautiful, most delightful girl I’ve ever met in my life. I’ve wanted you to be mine for years. I need you to know this.”

My heart burns in my chest, sending a flood of emotions through me. Ken is in love with me. He’s saying things that I’ve never heard from anyone before. I think back on all our precious moments together, thinking of the emotional connection we’ve forged, of how Ken is the one person who understands me better than anyone.

But then, Kali…

I close my eyes, tears spilling down my cheeks as I make a quick decision. Ken is always going to be Ken. But Kali’s… safe. With him, I never have to worry about being disappointed. With him, I’m never going to have to be afraid of losing him.

It’s the decision my mother would make.

I shake my head. “Ken, I’m sorry, but…”

He pulls his hands from my waist. The butterflies burn out. He stands up. “It’s fine.” He sounds tortured, pained. “Forget it.”

“Ken,” I start to call, but he’s out of the room in a few seconds. I try to untangle the sheets as another shadow falls across the doorway.

“What just happened?” Kali sounds pissed. “What was he doing in here?”

“Nothing,” I say quickly, finally getting rid of the sheets and standing. I can hear Ken’s footsteps dying away as he walks into his room and slams the door.

“Seriously,” Kali’s face is alight with anger. “What did he want? What did he say to you?”

“ Nothing,” I repeat. The happiness I carried like a lamp over the past few days is gone. I wipe my tears from my face, a tiny part of me noting that Kali didn’t think to ask about them. I take a deep breath. Kali merely stares in the direction of the hall, looking like he’s thinking of going after his brother and killing him.

“I need to go home.” Back to my own room, where I can think.

I shove past Kali, my heart racing in my chest as I dash into the hallway. I instinctively glance to my right, where Ken’s closed door stands, a silent reminder of the chaos I’m trying to outrun. Something pulls at me to stop, to go back and confront what just happened, but I can't face it—not now.

As I push forward, my legs moving faster than my mind can process, the unshed tears in my eyes blur my vision. The staircase comes into view, spiraling down toward what feels like the only escape from the mess of emotions swirling inside me.

Just before I reach the steps, a flicker of hesitation pulls me back. I glance over my shoulder at Ken’s door one last time. And that’s when it happens—I don't see them in time. Ken’s dumbbells, abandoned at the top of the stairs. My foot catches, and before I can react, my world tilts violently. Suddenly, I'm airborne. Time slows to a crawl. I hear a scream—my own—as my hands grasp frantically for something, anything to stop my fall. But gravity is merciless.

I tumble down the stairs, a rag doll at the mercy of physics. Each impact sends shockwaves through my body, but it's the final, sickening crack that freezes my blood.

As I lay crumpled at the bottom of the stairs, a horrifying realization dawns on me, even before the pain fully registers. Before the thundering of footsteps and panicked voices of the Edwards family reach my ears. Before I see Ken's face, pale with shock and guilt.

I know, with gut-wrenching certainty, that my dreams of dancing are shattered. And worse—the person I trusted most in the world might be responsible.

The last thing I see is Ken's anguished face, and I wonder if I'll ever be able to look at him the same way again.