Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
T ravis raced around the house warming it up and setting things to right. He’d picked up a ready-made soup that was on the stove warming. And his mom’s special recipe hot cocoa was piping hot in the thermos. Music played softly over the speakers.
Too much? He turned a critical eye to see if anything looked overly romantic. He shrugged. It just looked like home.
His smile grew. The lake house was everyone’s home. Their parents had purchased it together and their families used it at will. Everyone truly viewed it as their place. And that’s how it felt. He didn’t have a single memory there that didn’t include Sarah and her family, but particularly Sarah. She’d been the one to work with him when he was trying out for the high school team. She’d been there to work on his drills. She stood in as goalie to practice his shootouts. That was mostly why he was so distracted at the last shot Tatum called him out for missing. Shootouts belonged to Sarah.
He sighed.
Too bad she had picked up this vendetta against hockey players. He hadn’t dared ask her much about it besides the teases and the jabs. She didn’t know how much it hurt him. He wanted to know how much of it was personal. And if not personal, it should be. He was a hockey player after all. Could she not at least consider his feelings, focus on baseball or something? He shook his head.
But tonight wasn’t about that. Tonight was about reconnecting, having fun and skating. He checked the position of the sun. He had time to get out on the ice. He turned the soup off, grabbed his coat and gloves and rushed out the door.
And straight into Sarah.
He didn’t just bump her. He barreled into her. He slammed her like he might while playing defense on the ice.
She called out and luckily he instinctively wrapped his arms around her back, cradling her while he rolled over midair onto his side.
He took the brunt of the fall onto a snow-covered frozen lawn.
“Oof.” He grimaced. Then spoke down through her hair. “Are you okay?”
She felt glorious in his arms, soft in all the right places, snugly fitting right where she should. He did not want to move, didn’t want to lose her right where she was, trying to memorize the feel of her molded against him.
She nodded into his chest. “I think I’m Okay. You caught me so well.” She sniffed.
He tilted his head back a little so that he could try and see her face but she looked away.
“Are you crying?” He dipped his head further but she turned from him. “Oh no. Are you hurt?”
She shook her head. “I’m not hurt. This is just so nice. It’s been a long time since…” Her soft gasp warmed him and he wondered where that comment was going. “I’m fine. It was just a shock.”
He lifted her with him as he stood and then smoothed the hair from her face. “Good as new.” He chuckled. “I’m so sorry about that. Mom woulda grounded me good.”
Sarah snorted. “Yeah she would have and told you for the bazillionth time not to go tearing out fo the house.”
He hung his head. “And you are so right. But I was trying to get out on the ice before the sun goes down…maybe you can forgive me?” He opened his eyes as wide as he possibly good, looking as pathetic as ever.
But she swatted him. “Of course. Now get out there. I’m coming right back.”
“Grab the thermos. I’m already shivering in my boots.”
She shook her head. “I’m not sure how that’s possible. You live in freezing temperatures all the time.”
“Not like these.” He rubbed his arms through his coat. “Brr. I gotta get moving. You sure you’re okay?”
“I’ll be fine. I didn’t even hit the ground.” She held a hand up to her mouth. “You did. Are you hurt?”
He shook his head. “Nothing wrong here.” He stepped backwards a few steps, looking toward the water.
“Oh go. I’ll see you in a sec.”
“Thanks!” He turned around and ran down to the dock, discarding his shoes and lacing up skates before she even reached the door to the house.
Travis stepped onto the ice, the blades of his skates cutting through the glassy surface with a satisfying crunch. The lake stretched out before him, shimmering in the golden glow of the setting sun. This was home, no matter how far his career had taken him. The air was so still it almost felt sacred, and the ice was smooth enough to reflect the sky, the bare trees along the shoreline casting long shadows that danced in the fading light.
He picked up speed, his legs remembering the rhythm as if no time had passed. The familiar push and glide calmed him, the worries about his mom, about Sarah, slipping into the background as his focus narrowed to the here and now.
He skated in a wide arc, weaving between imaginary defenders, his movements fluid and instinctive. A grin tugged at his lips as he stopped sharply near the dock, spraying up a spray of ice. Skating always had a way of grounding him.
The creak of the dock boards made him turn. There she was, standing at the edge of the dock, the thermos he’d asked for tucked under one arm. Her skates were already laced up, and the evening light painted her face in soft hues of pink and gold.
“You’re gonna miss all the fun if you don’t hurry up,” he called, skating backward as she stepped onto the ice.
“I’m here, aren’t I?” Sarah shot back, but her voice was warm, the edge of teasing that he loved.
She moved onto the ice with the practiced ease of someone who’d done this a million times, but her first few strides were tentative, as if she were testing the feel of the ice beneath her. Travis skated over to meet her, stopping just close enough that their skates nearly touched.
“Still got it?” he asked, his eyes twinkling.
Her lips curved into a smile. “You tell me.”
With that, she took off, her long strides smooth and confident, leaving him standing there, blinking.
Travis laughed, pushing off after her. “Okay, showoff.”
They circled the open expanse of the lake, falling into an easy rhythm like they always had. He could see the tension melting from her shoulders as the wind played with the loose strands of her hair, and he found himself smiling without meaning to.
“Remember these drills?” he asked, grabbing a stick from the edge of the dock and tossing her a puck he’d left on the ice.
Sarah caught it with a deft tap of her stick, spinning on her skates to face him. “You mean the ones where I’d beat you every time?”
“In your dreams,” he said, but his grin widened as he set up in a defensive stance.
They fell into an old routine, trading the puck back and forth as they wove around imaginary cones. It felt like no time had passed at all, like they were back in high school, spending hours out here perfecting Travis’s stickhandling and footwork. She challenged him, just like she always had, darting around him with a quickness that made him laugh in frustration.
“Too slow, Jenkins,” she teased, slipping past him and sending the puck sailing toward the far end of the ice.
“Alright, alright,” he said, holding up his hands. “You win this round.”
Sarah skated back to him, the smile on her face so bright it made his chest ache. She was glowing, cheeks flushed from the cold, her breath coming out in soft white puffs.
“See?” she said, tapping his skate with the blade of her stick. “You should listen to me more often.”
“Don’t push your luck,” he said, but his voice was soft, filled with something that felt dangerously close to admiration.
They kept at it until the sun dipped lower, the sky streaked with shades of orange and purple. The drills turned into races, Travis letting her win more often than not just to see the triumphant look on her face. And then, as the last light of the day faded into twilight, Sarah tossed her stick aside and skated toward him with a glint in her eye.
“What?” he asked, eyeing her suspiciously.
“Remember when we used to dance out here?”
He blinked. “You mean when you used to drag me into your figure skating routines?”
Sarah laughed, and the sound wrapped around him like a warm blanket. “Come on, you know you loved it.”
“I tolerated it,” he corrected, though the grin tugging at his lips gave him away.
“Prove it,” she said, holding out her hand.
Travis hesitated, his heart thudding in his chest. But then he took her hand, her fingers cool against his, and let her pull him closer.
The music from the speaker on the dock drifted across the ice, a soft, slow melody that made the moment feel almost surreal.
Sarah led at first, her movements graceful and confident, and Travis followed her lead, their skates gliding in perfect unison. She spun away from him, the hem of her coat flaring out, and he caught her hand just in time to pull her back in.
“Not bad,” she said, her voice teasing.
“I’ve had a good teacher,” he admitted, his grip on her hand tightening ever so slightly.
They moved together as if no time had passed, the years between then and now melting away with every turn. Travis spun her again, and she laughed, the sound light and carefree. And then, without warning, she launched herself into the air, twisting into a leap that he caught effortlessly, his hands finding her waist as if they were made for this.
Her laughter turned breathless as he set her down gently, their faces inches apart.
“You’ve still got it,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
“So do you,” she replied, her eyes searching his.
The moment stretched, the world around them fading into the background. For a split second, Travis thought about leaning in, about closing the distance between them. But before he could move, Sarah stepped back, her hand slipping from his.
“I think I need a break,” she said, her voice light but tinged with something he couldn’t quite place.
He nodded, swallowing the disappointment that settled in his chest. “Hot cocoa?”
She smiled, and it was enough to make his heart skip a beat. “You read my mind.”
They skated back to the dock, where the thermos waited. Travis poured the cocoa into two mugs, the steam curling up into the cold night air.
They sat side by side on the dock, the silence between them comfortable, the stars beginning to peek out overhead.
Sarah took a sip of her cocoa, her hands cradling the mug for warmth. “Your mom’s recipe.”
“Of course,” he said, taking a sip of his own. “Some things are sacred.”
She smiled, her gaze distant as she stared out at the ice. “I miss this,” she said softly.
“Me too,” he admitted.
They sat like that for a while, the quiet wrapping around them like a blanket. And though neither of them said it out loud, Travis hoped they both felt it—the weight of the unspoken things between them, the pull of something neither of them was ready to name.