"What?" She lifted her eyes to her dad.
"It's a team rule. No one dates the coach's daughter. I won't have any of them bothering you."
Her cheeks heated as she imagined the entire Gulf City hockey team sitting in their locker room discussing her as the forbidden fruit. "That's not embarrassing at all, thanks Dad."
Her sarcasm wasn't lost on him. "I just know you have goals, Charlie. I wouldn't have any of my boys messing those up. You're too good for them."
"Too good?" she scoffed, rising to her feet. "What does that even mean?" That's what the kids at school said—that she thought she was too good for them. She wasn't.
"I wish people would stop telling me how good I am." It didn't matter, anyway. She wasn't allowed to date. Another one of her mom/coach's rules. Dating only interfered with training. Wouldn't want to let the teenager actually be a teenager.
"Char—"
"I just want to be like them." She set her stick against the wall and yanked at the laces on her skates, toeing them off.
"Like who?"
She whirled around to face him, angry tears building in her eyes. "Everyone else."
"Why would you want that?"
"Because I have chased one dream my entire life. And now it's all I know. Tell me, Dad, does success mean anything if I don't enjoy it? This is all going to end one day in the not too distant future. And then what will I be left with? I want more than memories of training sessions with my mom and afternoon runs alone."
"Charlie, what are you saying?"
She put her hands on her head and turned toward the stairs. "I honestly don't know."
She ran up the steps, away from her dad and the questions in his eyes. Her mom stood in the living room surveying their mess.
Charlotte turned away from her and ran up to her room. Collapsing onto her bed, she wiped at the tears on her face and reached for her phone. It rang twice before a familiar voice answered.
"I'm sorry," Hadley said.
"No, I'm sorry. I think you were right."
"No, I wasn't. It doesn't matter who I like. You're my best friend."
After spilling her guts to her dad, Charlotte took comfort in speaking to the one person who'd ever tried to get her to break out of her ice skating world. "You're allowed to like Jesse Carrigan. I might not like him, but that doesn't mean you can't."
"I love you, Charlie."
Charlotte smiled. "Love you too, Hads." She twisted to lay on her back on the pink bedspread and stare at the tiled ceiling. "So, about Friday..."
Hadley screamed. "You want to do it?"
"Yeah, I'll have my dad's keys when I come to your house."
"You and me, Charlie. Screw anyone else."
She grinned. "Thanks, Hads. I needed a laugh."
"Anytime, babe. Night!"
She hung up and put her phone on the white wooden bedside table. Lowering herself to the floor, she began her nighttime routine of stretches and strength exercises.
She might have her little rebellion Friday night, but she'd wake up the next morning at four and head to training like the good little robot she was.
5
Jesse
Will and Eli shared a room in the Carrigan household. Not because they had to—their five-bedroom house was large enough for the entire brood. No, they insisted on having bunk beds and couldn't do that from separate rooms.
Most of the time, Jesse found that adorable.
But not on a Friday night when they continued to throw things at each other from their respective beds.
Jesse caught Will's pillow mid-air and looked down at his brother. "Knock it off, guys." He shifted his eyes to Eli on the top bunk.
Will rolled his eyes—like he'd been doing a lot lately. "Jesse just wants us to fall asleep so he can go meet girls." He drew out the last word.
Eli made kissy sounds.
Jesse sat on the end of Will's bed, ducking his head to avoid hitting it on Eli's. "I'm not going to meet a girl."
Eli hung half his body down to look at them, his hands gripping the rail to keep from falling down onto them. "Then why can't you stay with us? We could read Harry Potter."
Jesse hated the sadness in his brother's voice. In a way, he and Cass were all they had. Their dad didn't put them to bed or read stories with them.
He'd once admitted to Jesse he had a hard time looking at the twins because they looked so much like their mom. The early days after her death bonded the siblings in a way nothing else could. Their dad checked out, and they had to be there for each other—even though the twins were only six.
Jesse raised an eyebrow at Eli. "You're going to fall out of your bed if you keep that up."
"You'll catch me." The confidence, the trust, in his voice made Jesse smile.
"I'd try, bud." He pulled Will to his side. "I'm sorry we can't read tonight. It's late anyway. How about tomorrow? I'll stay in, and we can find out what Harry is up to."
"Only if you promise." He held his pinky up.
Jesse hooked their pinkies together. "Promise."
"Me too," Eli called.
Jesse laughed as he offered his other brother a pinky-swear. He looked up to find Cassie watching them from the doorway with a smile on her face.
Jesse got up and pushed Eli back into his bed before joining Cassie in the hall. "Sure you don't want to come with me? Dad is down in his office, so he can handle things here."
"Where are you going again?"
"A pickup hockey game." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a key. "Coach gave me a key to the rink in case any of the guys wanted extra practice. He's probably hoping we'll magically get better."
"I think I'll pass." She grimaced.
Jesse shrugged. It was worth a try. He knew his sister wouldn't go hang out with all of his friends, but he wanted her there. "So, what does your night entail?"
"Reading." She smiled.
"For someone who hates people, you sure do read a lot of romance." She was obsessed with it, in fact.
"At least in these books I can pretend I'm out there living my life."
He knew what she meant. Living her life instead of trapped here by a paralyzing fear of people.
"Well." He pulled her into a side hug. "I'll miss you."
"What would all those friends of yours say if they knew their golden boy was at home every night making dinner with his sister and putting kids to sleep?"
"Rome knows."
"But that's Roman."
"Does it matter what anyone else thinks?" He released her and entered his room. Hockey posters hung along the wall behind his made bed. With the rest of the house usually a mess, he liked to keep his own room in some kind of order.
He changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt before grabbing his sweatshirt off the back of the desk chair. They lived in Florida, but it was still January.
"Later Cass," he called on his way down the stairs.
She didn't respond, but before he reached the bottom, he heard her reading Harry Potter to the boys. He smiled at that.
Poking his head into his dad's office, he waved, not wanting to interrupt his dad's phone call.
His dad put his hand over the receiver. “You going out?”
“Yeah, Cass is putting the boys to bed.”
He nodded. “You’ll be safe?”
“Of course. I won’t be late.” He rapped his knuckles on the doorframe and turned away.
Once outside, he slid into his Jeep Wrangler and checked the back seat to make sure his hockey bag was still there.
He loved the drive to the arena. For half the way, the ocean sparkled on his right. Large houses obscured the beach from view, but once he reached the public beach, he saw the moonlight dancing off the waves.
There was no better town to live in. Perfect winters. Summers at the beach. A hockey arena that was only five years old.
He hung his arm out the window, breathing in the salty air. The cool January evening washed over him. Friday nights at the arena were the bes
t. They closed the doors around nine—after their public skate.
Coach and Mrs. Morrison never stayed long after that.
By ten, the place was deserted.
Only a few cars sat in the parking lot, and at first, he assumed they belonged to guys from the team who'd gotten there before him. But no one lingered near the door and only he had the key.
Hiking his hockey bag up farther on his shoulder, he glanced around, but only the night greeted him. With a shrug, he unlocked the door and pulled it open. The entryway was dark save for emergency lights near the floor.
He always enjoyed the rink when no one else was around. The front desk and halls sat empty, quiet. He turned into the back hallway that would take him to the locker room and flipped on a light to guide his path.
Inside the locker room, everything was as it should be. The team didn't keep their gear in their lockers because they weren't the only ones using the room. As the light flickered on, he took in the Hurricane's logo in the middle of the stiff carpeted floor. Team lore said it was bad luck to walk across the blue and white swirling emblem that represented a giant storm.
But random strangers entered this room every day with no care for the superstitions of the town's hockey team.
Then again, they also never won games. Coincidence? Or magic? He laughed to himself. Roman was the superstitious one. He always taped his stick a certain way and put his right skate on before his left.
Jesse sat in an empty stall and unzipped his bag. Coach let them use the rink as long as Jesse was there—for some reason, he was the trusted guy, the captain—but there were rules he set out. No hitting. He didn't want his players risking injury on a stupid Friday night tradition.
He said the skaters didn't have to wear pads, but the goalie must.
Reasonable.
Jesse didn't want to disappoint his coach by letting it get out of hand. He wondered if Coach allowed them to use the rink only as a way to keep them out of other Friday night shenanigans. Sure, some guys would go from the game to one of the many parties happening all the time in Gulf City.
But Jesse always went home after. He didn't quite understand how he was so popular when he scorned the party scene. Roman sometimes dragged him out to a bonfire on the beach, but that wasn't where Jesse belonged.
Sliding his phone out of his pocket, he checked the time. The guys would arrive in a half hour or so. He was always early, wanting to skate a few laps by himself, soaking in the peace, before his team arrived, turning up the volume quite a bit.
He dropped his phone into the bag and pulled on his skates, lacing them tight. Sliding his sweatshirt over his head, he pulled it down. He'd take it off when the game started and he was dripping in sweat.
Kicking his bag under the bench, he walked into the tunnel that led to the ice. Before the gleaming sheet of perfection came into view, Jesse heard the unmistakable sound of a hockey stick tapping against the ice.
"It's not fair playing with you." He'd recognize that voice anywhere. Hadley Gibson. Back in ninth grade, he'd wanted to be anywhere she was, but she always seemed out of his league. Just like the girl skating with her. His crush on Hadley was long over, but…
Jesse's eyes zeroed in on Charlotte Morrison as she zoomed down the ice, probably faster than any of the guys on his team.
"Charlie!" Hadley tapped her stick against the ice again. "Stop showing off."
Charlotte looked back at her with a grin before gathering the puck and carrying it with her as she skated along the boards. She crossed to center ice and used the stick as a pivot point to spin on one foot before cradling the puck again.
Her stick handling was so technical, so precise—just like everything else she did. She leaped into the air, doing some kind of mid-air split, before landing and skating a circle around Hadley.
Hadley laughed. "If your dad saw you like that..."
Charlotte shrugged, showing none of the tension Jesse knew her for. "He'd do nothing. As always."
"But you're so good."
"Does it matter?" She sighed. "I'm good at figure skating too, almost great even. That's what I should stick to. Even if I wanted to play hockey, Gulf City doesn't have a girls’ team."
"Who cares? You could skate circles around those boys."
Jesse should have felt guilty for eavesdropping on the girls from the shadows of the tunnel, but he couldn't make himself move. It was like he was seeing some National Geographic movie examining Charlotte Morrison in her natural habitat.
"You were right." She lined up a shot. "I did need some fun." She drew her stick back and released a slapper into the top right corner of the net. The kind of shot most of his teammates couldn't hope to make.
Hadley draped an arm over Charlotte's shoulders. "I always know what you need." She pushed away from Charlotte and took off around the rink. Her skating wasn't as smooth or natural as her friend's, but Jesse doubted many people could skate like that.
She at least managed to stay on her feet—which was more than he could say for a few of the guys on the team.
Charlotte started after her, catching up. They left their sticks leaning against the wall as they chased each other. Charlotte looked so at ease on the ice, so comfortable. It reminded Jesse of how he felt every time he laced up his skates.
They rounded the corner, and Charlotte stopped abruptly, the tips of her skates slamming into the wall next to the swinging door that led to the tunnel, right where Jesse stood watching them like a creeper.
Red crept up her cheeks as she stared, not saying a word.
"Um." Jesse cleared his throat. "Hey." He cringed at his lameness, but how did he put into words how he could watch her skate for hours?
A plan formed in his mind, but there was no way she'd agree.
Right?
6
Charlotte
Jesse Carrigan stared at her. Her, Charlotte Morrison. Did he really think she looked that ridiculous with a hockey stick in her hands? Sure, she was the "ice princess" meant to do jumps and spins but not slapshots.
That didn't give him a right to stand there watching her like she was some sort of alien.
"What are you doing here?" Her eyes narrowed. Hadley's words came back to her. Supposedly, Jesse was a nice guy and she should try to thaw her iciness around him. But it was a hard habit to break.
He dug into his pocket before holding up a key. "I didn't break in, I swear."
"Great." She drummed her fingers on the top of the half-wall where the glass cut away for the tunnel entrance. "I had to steal my dad's keys to get in here, but he gave you a set." She pushed away from the wall and turned her back on him.
Suddenly, her Friday night wasn't so much fun anymore.
Hadley skated up beside her. "How's my hair?" She flattened her sweaty hair. They'd been skating hard since watching her parents lock up so they could sneak in.
Her mom never let her come to the rink after hours, wanting her to rest before training early the next morning. Did she know her husband gave his hockey captain a key?
"You look great, Hadley." She always did. Once Hadley set her sights on Jesse, Charlotte knew it was only a matter of time before the annoyingly attractive guy fell for her. Hard.
They always did.
She was different from Charlotte in every way—Charlotte didn't date, hadn't ever dated. She had better things to do—even if her parents allowed it.
"He's coming this way." Hadley squeezed Charlotte's arm.
"Breathe. He's just a guy." With a sigh, she turned to see Jesse skating toward them. With a glance at Hadley, she held in the biting words on the tip of her tongue. For her friend, she'd do it.
Jesse stopped in front of her, barely sparing a glance for Hadley. "Do it again?"
"What?"
"Take the puck the length of the ice and skate with it."
He was too close. Charlotte backed away. "Why?"
"I want to see if it was a fluke, a lucky sequence."
Hadley laughed. "There is nothi
ng fluky or lucky about Charlie. Show him, Char."
"Yeah, Charlie." He grinned, flashing his adorable dimples.
No, not adorable. Frustrating. "My name is Charlotte."
He jabbed his thumb at Hadley. "She called you Charlie."
"Yeah, well, she's my friend." She skated over to where she'd left her stick leaning against the wall. She'd do this but only to shut him up.
Hadley let out a cheer, but Charlotte tuned her out, only hearing her skates cutting through the ice, the scrape of her stick blade as she located a puck. Being left handed, she slid her left hand down the shaft and rested her right at the top.
Starting slowly, she cradled the puck, going from backhand to forehand as she rounded the far net. Her lips curled up as she cut across the left dot, picking up speed on her way to the neutral zone. She didn't know if Jesse was still watching, or if he'd been distracted by Hadley.
But with a puck on her stick, that didn't matter. She didn't skate like a hockey player, she knew that, but once she got going, the imaginary opponent behind her couldn't catch up.
Moving her body from side to side as she kept control of the puck, she passed Jesse and Hadley, only briefly registering Hadley jumping up and down in her skates.
She circled the goal nearest to them before flipping an easy backhand into the net.
Hadley cheered, and as Charlotte came to a stop, spraying ice at Jesse, even he clapped, his jaw hanging open.
"That prove anything to you?" She crossed her arms over her stick. "Am I going to be saved from your mocking?"
"Mocking?" Jesse shook his head. "That was awesome. Wait until the rest of the team gets here and sees it."
"The rest of the team?" She sucked in a breath. One golden boy she could deal with. Twenty of them? Not so much.
"Yeah, when we don't have official games on Fridays, we meet here after hours for a game of our own."
"And my dad lets you?" That shouldn't surprise her. Jesse Carrigan could do no wrong in her father's eyes.
"He thinks it's good for team moral."
"Sure." She turned to Hadley. "We should go."
Jesse and the Ice Princess (Gulf City High Book 1) Page 4