Page 24

TWENTY-ONE

Ellie

NOW

S o, how’s it been?” My teacher friend, Maggie, asked me. She was sitting on the edge of my desk during our lunch period, munching on an apple as I picked at my lunch.

“How’s what been?”

“You know. Living with your super hot, childhood ex-boyfriend turned NHL hockey superstar.”

I grimaced. “Oh, that.” I’d confessed to her about my living situation earlier in the week, something I was trying not to regret now. “It’s…” Living with Owen was a lot of things. Confusing, mostly.

Because some nights, like when he tenderly picked me up and carried me into bed, it was so easy to pretend that nothing had changed. And this morning, flirting in the kitchen over coffee felt so… normal and domestic that it made my heart ache.

Because I wanted that. And even though there were a few moments where it felt like Owen wanted that too, I knew the truth. He’d moved on. We were just friends.

Reasons I should try to find a new place and planning to move out. But how could I, when he’d begged me to stay with those big, brown puppy dog eyes of his? He’d always known exactly what to say to get me to cave. It was how he’d dragged me on so many hikes when we were younger.

I sighed. “It’s great. I don’t know.” I traced circles on my desk, not making eye contact with her. “It’s his first away game of the season tonight.” My first night alone in his apartment.

“And how are you feeling about that?”

Biting my lip, I tried to assess my feelings. “Fine.” I think. “It’s not like I’m so used to his presence after barely a week that I can’t function alone anymore. Besides, after I work on lesson plans and class stuff each night, it’s all I can do to crawl into bed and pass out.” Tomorrow was Friday, so I still had one more day of school before the weekend.

She hummed, her dark ringlets bobbing as she popped another piece of apple into her mouth. “Whatever you say, homegirl.”

I laughed. But as much as I was fine by myself, it was also true that I missed Owen. Already. He’d been gone for a few hours—hours that I didn’t normally see him—and I already wanted to text him.

Undoubtedly, I knew what I’d be doing tomorrow night. I had a date with Owen’s giant flatscreen TV. Again.

The other night, I’d fallen asleep on the couch after watching the post-game interviews, hoping that Owen would appear, but he hadn’t. Which he must have noticed, considering he’d picked me up and carried me to bed when he got home. But he hadn’t mentioned my TV activities, and I hadn’t mentioned how warm and cozy I’d felt in his arms. At first, I’d thought I was dreaming when I’d nuzzled against his hard chest, but nope.

Owen Harper had tucked me into bed, and I had barely been awake enough to appreciate it.

Sometimes, it all felt like a dream. Maybe I’d hit my head on something when my apartment flooded, and I was going to wake up and find out I’d hallucinated all of this.

“Ellie.”

“Huh?” I looked up from my desk at my friend. She looked amused, and I frowned. “What?”

“You’ve got a bit of drool…” Maggie pointed at my face. “Right there.”

My cheeks warmed, and I batted her hand away. “I do not.”

She giggled. “You really like him, don’t you? Like, I know you said you two dated when you were younger, but…”

“Yeah.” I looked over at her. “It’s different now, but he’s still the same Owen that I fell in love with, you know? But it doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t it?”

I furrowed my eyebrows. Nothing was going to change. No matter how much I wanted it to. No matter how much I enjoyed seeing him in a suit. Sexy as sin, even when I was watching him leave. God, I hadn’t been able to pry my eyes away from him this morning after he’d said goodbye.

I didn’t want to go another five years without talking again. We’d avoided talking about our one night together after my graduation. About the note he’d left. I wish things were different. That was all it had said.

Now, I was the one who wished things were different.

“No.” I shook my head. “We’re friends now. And roommates.” And that was enough.

“Alright. Well, I’m here for you when you need to talk.” She scrunched her nose. “Or if you need to complain about living with a man. I lived with my brother for long enough that I totally understand.”

A laugh burst out of me. “Thanks, Mags. I’m glad I have you as a friend.”

She gave me a warm smile. “Me too, Ellie. I’m glad you got the job. ”

I was too.

No matter what else happened, I was thrilled I ended up here.

Saturday morning, I woke up to Owen in the kitchen, making pancakes and looking surprisingly chipper. Which shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise considering the Seals won their game last night—they were now 3-0 for the season, which was good—but I had no idea why he was awake this early.

Or why he was making breakfast.

“Morning?” I questioned, sliding in next to him to get a cup of coffee. He always made a pot, and even though I absolutely detested black coffee, adding in copious amounts of creamer and flavorings, it was at least tolerable. I preferred ice coffee from his mom’s shop, but I wasn’t in Portland anymore.

“Morning. Thought I’d make breakfast.” Owen flipped a pancake in the pan as I stirred my coffee with a spoon.

“Yeah, I see that.”

He was wearing a t-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms, and even with hair mussed from sleep, I couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was. The white cotton fabric of his shirt clung to his muscles, and I really needed to stop checking him out.

“Do you have any plans today?”

This felt like a trap, but I didn’t , so I couldn’t lie to him. “No.” I trailed off, taking a drink of my coffee as I slid onto one of the barstools at the island.

“Great.” He grinned. “Then we’re going out.”

“ Out ?” I repeated, furrowing my brow. The question in my word was obvious, but he ignored it.

“Uh-huh. Wear something warm. ”

It wasn’t even that cold outside yet, though I’d definitely started wearing tights under my dresses when I wore them to school, and I didn’t leave the house without a sweater or one of my favorite cardigans on. Perks of teaching elementary school was I could dress cute and functional. I hardly ever wore slacks, preferring dresses and skirts.

Still, I couldn’t think of a single reason I’d need to dress warmly right now.

“What do you have up your sleeve, Owen Harper?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

His only response was to slide a plate of pancakes my way. He’d topped them with blueberries, and god, why did he have to remember all the things I’d loved when we were kids? The blueberry yogurt in the fridge was bad enough, but this?

“You’ll see.” He picked up his own plate, scarfing down bites of pancakes.

When we were both finished, he put our dishes into the sink.

“I guess I’ll go shower,” I said, feeling full of pancakes but also slightly sticky. Though, honestly, my days were always a little sticky. Maybe that just came with working with kids, though.

Owen nodded, heading towards his bedroom. “Alright. I’ll do the same, and we can head out when we’re both ready.”

“You’re really not going to tell me where we’re going?”

He grinned as he reached his door. “Nope. Today is all about you, Ellie baby.”

And then he disappeared into his bedroom, leaving me standing in the hallway, staring after him, my heart going pitter patter in my chest.

That was that, I guess. Wherever he was taking me, I was in for a surprise.

I just wasn’t sure if I liked that a little too much.

“What are we doing here?” I asked an hour later, blinking in confusion as I stared at the complex where the Seals practiced. The parking lot was empty, and neither one of us had gotten out of the car. I was just staring at the building.

“Skating.”

He’d told me to dress warm, so I’d pulled on a comfy pair of leggings and an oversized light blue sweater. This wasn’t a date , and I wasn’t dressing up to impress him. Luckily, he hadn’t dressed up either, wearing a pair of jeans and a navy hoodie. Now I knew why.

I frowned. “ Owen .” Panic filled my chest as I imagined stepping out onto the ice. About everything I’d left behind five years ago. “I can’t.”

He reached over, grabbing my hand and squeezing it. “You can.”

I shook my head. “You don’t understand.”

“Then help me understand.” His voice was rough. “Please. Don’t shut me out, Ellie.”

Instead of answering him, I opened the door, sliding out of the car before taking a few steps. Wordlessly, Owen joined me, guiding me inside. He’d grabbed a bag out of the car, draping it over his shoulder.

We didn’t speak. Maybe he could sense there was something I was holding back, but he didn’t pressure me. He just walked beside me until we were standing in front of the rink.

Wrapping my arms around my chest, I held myself tight. “I haven’t skated in?—”

“I know.” His voice was soft. “But don’t worry. I’ll be there every step of the way.”

Could I do this? Because it felt like a lot more than just stepping onto the ice again .

“I don’t even have skates,” I whispered. My old pair were probably somewhere in my parents’ house, though I hadn’t used them in years.

Owen winked. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

He guided me onto the bench, kneeling in front of me as he unlaced my sneakers.

And then he pulled out a box that he must have stashed in his bag, and my heart stopped.

They were beautiful, brand new, and top of the line. I recognized the brand from my figure skating days. These were way too nice.

“Owen.” My voice caught. “When did you…”

“When you told me you’d stopped skating.” He rubbed the back of his neck. I probably shouldn’t have, but?—“

“No.” I reached down, pulling one of the white skates out and holding it in my hands. I’d have to break them in, but God, I loved them already. And it would be a shame if these skates didn’t get worn. They deserved to be on the ice. “I love them.” I shut my eyes, tears welling. But I wouldn’t cry. Not over ice skates, and not over him buying me them.

Owen’s warm hand cupped my chin, and I opened my eyes to find his. “Why’d you stop, Ellie baby?” He asked, his voice soothing. Like he was trying not to spook a scared animal.

“You know why,” I whispered.

He shook his head. “Not because of me.” There was hurt on his face.

What could I say? There was so much we hadn’t talked about. But once we got it all out in the open… would he even want me around anymore?

He took the skate out of my hand, guiding my foot into it. How many times had he laced up my skates when we were younger? Owen knew just the way I liked it. And clearly, he hadn’t forgotten, either. Maybe it was like muscle memory. As easy as riding a bike .

“We can’t keep avoiding talking about it, El,” he said. And god, how tender he was being was making it worse. Because all I wanted to do was to bury my face against his chest. To inhale his scent that felt like home.

I closed my eyes as he placed a soft kiss to my knee after finishing lacing up my second skate. “I know.”

Owen sat next to me, pulling on his skates as we sat in silence. I couldn’t spill everything now. It was too raw. If I did, I’d be revealing everything to him. And I wasn’t ready for that.

So when he stood up, holding out his hand for mine, I took it.

“I’ve got you,” he told me again as I hesitated at the wall.

I bit my lip. “How do you get back on the ice after an injury? Knowing it could happen again? Knowing that it was one of the most terrifying things that ever happened to you?”

He shrugged. “Same way you do everything, I guess. Put one foot in front of the other. Remind yourself that the world isn’t over. Pick yourself up and dust yourself off. Try again.”

Was it really that easy? To just… start over? Maybe it was. I thought about moving here. How much courage it had taken to do that. His eyes held mine, warm and brown and full of understanding.

I’d gone to therapy after my accident, back when my anxiety felt crippling. It had helped some—enough to go back to my life—but I’d never skated again.

Owen stepped onto the ice, skating backwards as I stood, a death grip against the wall.

“One step at a time, Daisy. You can do this.” He held out a hand, and I swallowed roughly. “Five minutes. Just give me five minutes.”

I took a step, and the blade underneath me made contact with the ice. Everything else faded away as I pushed off, skating towards Owen. There was only him and me, and suddenly, the years didn’t matter. I just focused on him.

Maybe it would have been easier to turn around and flee if I was as uncoordinated as a baby deer on the ice, but it felt like I’d built it up in my head to be this big thing and it just… wasn’t. I was fine. The world wasn’t ending. I was still standing on my own two feet. I could still breathe.

“That’s it,” he murmured as I took his hand. “That’s my girl. I knew you could do it.”

My cheeks warmed, but he pulled me in close enough that I could see every color swirling in his eyes and feel the press of his body against mine. And god, I missed him. In a way I shouldn’t . His hands. His mouth.

And I was all too aware of how close together we were on the ice. If anyone came in, they’d get the wrong idea. I pulled away—not letting go of his hand—and tested out my skates. It was a long way to go to where I’d been, at the top of my game and hoping to compete nationally, but at least I was here. On the ice. Skating. Mostly.

In all this time, we’d mainly been staring at each other.

Then Owen grinned, a mischievous look on his face that I remembered from when we were kids.

“Race ya! Fastest one wins!” He dropped my hand, speeding off down the ice towards the other end.

“That’s not fair!” I protested. “You’re a professional hockey player.”

He winked at me as he came to a stop over the blue line. “Guess you’ll just have to try to keep up, huh, Skater Girl?”

I scowled, finally skating towards him, catching up to him quickly.

“Come on.” He extended out his hand again, interlacing our fingers before we skated together, making a lap around the rink.

We went slowly, like he knew I wasn’t ready to race over the ice yet. But his taunt had worked. And I wasn’t worrying about falling or getting hurt like I had been the last time I’d tried to get on the ice. After my accident, I’d had a panic attack the first time I tried to go back to the rink. The next time I’d tried to go back, I couldn’t even start the car. So I’d quit.

Just like I’d quit on him.

“I’m sorry,” I offered.

It wasn’t enough. But it was a start.