10. victoria
TEN
victoria
“ T hank you so much for letting me stay at your place,” I say, stepping into Sloan and Jaz’s cozy house. It’s a charming two-story named “Rose & Thorn” because of the rose bushes in the backyard, complete with a big front porch and wood floors with a patina that only comes from age. When I texted Sloan to see if she knew anyone willing to take in an extra guest for a few nights, I didn’t expect her to offer her own place.
“It’s no problem at all,” Sloan says, grabbing my pink suitcases and tucking them behind a door in the hall. Both she and Jaz are sporting matching red aprons for tonight’s New Year’s Eve party—the unofficial holiday gathering for the Crushers, since most of the players have been off celebrating with their families. Even though I was invited, I can’t help feeling like I forced myself on them.
They motion for me to follow them into the kitchen. I glance at the counters, already loaded with cookies, dips, and enough dough to start a bakery.
“I feel terrible crashing at your place when you’re hosting a party,” I say. “Are you sure this isn’t too much?”
“Nonsense! The more, the merrier,” Jaz says, her baby bump peeking from behind her apron.
“We’re used to a full house,” Sloan adds, picking up a rolling pin. “Besides, Rourke asked if you were coming and I told him to invite you, which made Leo furious.” She grins at me as she rolls out a batch of dough. “Maybe those two need a good old fistfight to work out their feelings.”
“Wait, Leo asked about me?” I lean against the counter, trying not to act too interested, but I’m dying to know if he ever mentions me. Is he really jealous of Rourke asking about me, or is this just some leftover feelings from when we used to date?
“Oh, Rourke just wanted your phone number so he could text you,” Sloan says. “But Leo isn’t aware that Rourke actually invited you tonight.”
I wince. “Maybe I’ll just stay in the opposite corner of the house, minding my own business.”
Jaz and Sloan give each other a look before Jaz says, “Leo will make you his business. That’s just how he is. When he cares about something, he’s relentless.”
Relentless, huh? Doesn’t mean he has the right to interfere when one of his hockey buddies invites me to a party. I have a hard enough time making friends as it is—being an introvert doesn’t exactly make me the most approachable person—so the last thing I need is him scaring them off. I want friendships as much as anyone else, even if that means navigating the rough-and-tumble world of professional hockey players.
The irony isn’t lost on me—growing up, hockey was my dad’s job, not a hobby or social activity. Despite my father coaching his way through the leagues, it was always just part of our lives, like background noise. Then I became a skater, and had time for little else. Hockey was my dad’s world, but it was never part of mine—until I met Leo. I was coming off the ice after a grueling skating practice, flushed and sweaty, when I spotted him lacing up his skates for the university hockey team. Something caught my attention—that serious, broody look he gave me when our eyes met, his hair falling over one side of his forehead. Distracted by his blue eyes, I failed to notice the hockey stick lying across the ground. One spectacularly graceless stumble later, I nearly kissed the ground before Leo sprang off the bench to help me up.
“You okay?” he asked, taking my hand, his gaze locking on to mine.
“Yeah, I think so.” Maybe it was the near face-plant, or seeing those eyes close up—an impossible shade of blue, like moonlight spilling over a field of cornflowers. I couldn’t stop staring.
“I’ve seen you on the ice before,” he said. “You’re really good.”
“You’ve noticed my skating before?” The hockey team usually arrived as we were wrapping up, but I’d never seen anyone paying much attention to me.
“Watching you is like watching magic happen,” he said. “You don’t just skate. You made me forget the world existed.”
Then he did it— he smiled— and not just any smile. His serious face turned charming, and it was like he knew exactly how to get to me in an instant. My heart swan-dived into the lava pit of my chest, and I’ve been trying to climb out ever since.
After that, I spent every spare second with Leo. I’d cheer for him at his games, wearing his jersey, proud to be his girlfriend. Practices became secondary to lazy afternoons and stolen kisses. He made me feel alive in a way skating never had.
Unfortunately, my parents didn’t share my enthusiasm when they found out six months later. Their ultimatum was swift: break up with Leo, or they’d make sure his hockey career ended before it began.
With my dad already coaching professionally, I knew he could follow through. All it would take was a word that Leo was “difficult” to work with, and his dreams would be over. I had no choice. I broke up with Leo via text because I couldn’t lie to his face. So I did the only thing I thought I could—I cut him off cold turkey, walking away from the only guy I’d ever cared about, so he could have the future he deserved. I told myself I was doing the right thing. That I’d move on and our paths would never cross again. Someday, he might even thank me.
Instead, here I am, back in the same small town, with my dad coaching Leo’s team. Thanks to my partner’s unfortunate injury, I’m now stuck in this ridiculous arrangement. If I’d known this was my future, I might’ve relocated to the other side of the earth to avoid it—even if the free rink rentals here were hard to resist.
“Make yourself at home,” Jaz says, pulling me back into the moment.
At least while I’m here, I’ll be able to forget about Leo.
“Can I help with something?” I ask, looking around at the full counter of homemade baked goods. “I’m not exactly a gourmet chef, but I can follow directions.”
“We’ll never turn down extra help,” Jaz says, setting a mixing bowl on the counter. “How do you feel about cutting bread dough?”
“My mom was more into takeout than home-cooked meals,” I admit.
Jaz’s eyes widen. “You never learned?”
“Not really,” I say sheepishly. “I was always at the rink. Cooking lessons didn’t make the schedule.”
“I get it. Skating doesn’t leave room for much else,” Sloan says, mixing up a new batch of dough in the mixer.
“How did you learn?” I ask, gesturing to the spread, which looks straight out of a holiday magazine.
“Granny,” Jaz says proudly. “She taught us that food is love. Even when we were stubborn teenagers, she’d throw us an apron and tell us, ‘Take that anger out on some bread dough.’”
“Well, I’d love to learn something other than heating up frozen dinners,” I say. “Especially after the day I’ve had.”
I’m not just talking about the pipe bursting in my apartment, but Leo making me blush countless times. If picturing the dough as his smug face and giving it a few solid punches qualifies as stress relief, then I’ve just found the most satisfying form of therapy.
“We’ll start with the basics,” Sloan says, demonstrating how to knead dough.
When I try, I pound on the dough, and flour flies everywhere. After a few messy attempts, I finally manage to shape something resembling a lumpy knot.
“I did it! Well, kind of...” I tilt my head and squint so it appears more like Sloan’s perfectly shaped bread knots. “If you don’t look too closely.”
“Great job for your first try!” Jaz says, then looks me over and bites back a smile. “But you might need a shower before the party.”
I glance down at my flour-covered outfit, which now resembles a snowman costume.
When I look up, Sloan has her hand over her mouth, trying to stifle a laugh. “Just don’t look in the mirror. Because it’s all over your face too.”
Just then, the door slams in the front hall. “Jaz, I got the extra lights!”
I freeze at the sound of Leo’s voice, then press myself against the side of the fridge, trying to hide.
“Is that Leo?” I whisper to Jaz and Sloan, my stomach flipping.
They nod as Leo continues his monologue from the front hall. “They didn’t have the exact ones in the store, but these should match close enough.”
“What is he doing here two hours early?” I hiss under my breath.
“He’s not early,” Sloan says. “He’s replacing the broken outdoor Christmas lights for the party. Why are you hiding?”
“I don’t want him to see me just yet,” I say in a panicked whisper. “Is there somewhere I can hide?”
“Your bedroom,” Jaz suggests. “But you’d need to sneak upstairs without him noticing. You want me to distract him while you make a run for it?”
“Jaz, did you hear me?” Leo’s footsteps grow louder in the hall, and I shoo Jaz away from me.
“One second!” Jaz yells, then turns to me and whispers, “As soon as I take him out the front door, make a run for it.”
She scurries off to stop Leo before he discovers me hiding in the kitchen. “Hey, Leo, can you check the giant inflatable Santa out front? I think he’s deflating.”
“But I just came from the store,” he groans. “And you do not need another inflatable Santa playing hockey.”
“Oh, don’t be a grump,” Jaz reminds him sweetly. “You want to help a pregnant lady, don’t you? That Santa is my favorite.”
Leo lets out an agonized sigh before the door slams. Sloan peeks down the hall, then gives me a thumbs-up. “Coast is clear, but you might want to clean up before he returns and heads to his room.”
I blink. “What do you mean? Don’t tell me he lives here?”
Sloan stares at me blankly. “He rents a room along with Tate. Before we were married, we were having trouble paying the mortgage, and the guys needed a room... and now we can’t get them to leave.” She laughs to herself before looking over at me. “Is that a problem for you?”
“Oh, it’s fine,” I lie.
It’s not fine. I had assumed Leo would have a private cave where he could brood in solitude, not live in a place that’s more like an old-fashioned boarding house.
“It was supposed to be temporary until an apartment opened up,” Sloan says, sliding a tray of snowman cookies into the oven. “But they’ve become a second family in a way.”
I know Leo doesn’t talk much about his family. He’s close with his adoptive parents in Virginia, but when it came to his birth mom, the subject was always off-limits. Back then, I never pushed—it didn’t feel like my place. It was a part of his life he kept locked up, and I never wanted to pressure him.
“I’ll warn you in advance,” I say, “he’s probably going to make everyone miserable while I’m here.”
“He can’t get any grumpier,” Sloan says with a laugh.
“Trust me, he has every reason to be.” I hesitate, wondering how much I should confess about our past. “In college, I basically broke up with him out of nowhere.”
Sloan rolls out the rest of the sugar cookie dough, deep in thought. “Are you sure he’s over you?”
“If dating someone else two weeks later isn’t a clear sign, then I don’t know what is.” The memory still twists my stomach into knots.
Seeing Leo with another girl on campus, arms wrapped around her waist, was its own special kind of torture. The way she batted her eyes at him made my stomach churn, but I couldn’t let him see me. So I ducked behind a group of soccer players and snuck around to the back entrance to avoid crossing his path. As far as I know, he never realized I was there. Even if he had, I doubt he’d have cared—not after what I’d done to him.
Sloan sets the rolling pin to the side. “No matter how he feels, he’s going to have to accept you’re here because of an emergency.” She picks out a star-shaped cookie cutter and begins piercing the dough into a neat line of stars.
“Believe me, I’d leave if I could. My plan is to scrape together enough money to get out of this town eventually.”
Sloan’s brow creases as she carefully lines up the cookies on the tray. “What I don’t understand is why your dad would interfere. Especially if he knows your past together.”
I shrug. “Dad knew I was desperate for a practice partner, and a hockey player is better than nothing.” I step next to Sloan and cut the last cookies out of the remaining dough since Leo isn’t returning anytime soon. “But he also knew this would be humiliating for Leo. He’s never tolerated players with an attitude, and my mom never thought Leo was good enough for me. I’m just waiting for Leo to get back at me by ‘accidentally’ dropping me on my head.”
Sloan laughs. “I don’t know. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
“Like he’s imagining all the ways I could meet my untimely demise?” I snort.
Sloan turns toward me. “A man who looks at a woman the way he looks at you... is a man who’s fighting a losing battle with his heart.”
I frown. “We’re definitely not talking about the same Leo.” I’ve seen the way his eyes close off when I’m around, like there’s no warmth or love in them. “I wish we could at least be friends. But I’m not sure that’s even possible.”
“Maybe you should try,” Sloan suggests. “Set some ground rules. Show him you’re willing to meet halfway.” Sloan stops and sniffs the air. “Do you smell that?”
She whirls around to the oven, flinging open the door to reveal a tray of charred snowman cookies. Smoke billows out as she dumps the tray into the sink.
“That’s a dozen cookies down the drain,” she groans. “And I still have so many other things to do before the party.”
“I’ll grab some from the store,” I offer. “Let me shower first.”
As I head upstairs, Jaz bursts through the door with a pair of scissors in hand.
“He’s gone,” she announces. “But I had to kill Santa when Leo wasn’t looking.”
Sloan’s jaw drops. “You stabbed the inflatable Santa?”
“An act of mercy. Otherwise, Leo wouldn’t believe me.”
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. “I can’t believe you’d do this for me,” I say, trying to hold back the sudden wave of emotion in my chest.
Jaz looks at me like I’m crazy. “Why wouldn’t we?”
“Because no one else has gone to so much trouble,” I admit. The skating world is bitterly competitive, and sadly, I’ve never really had many close friends. “You’ve taken me in, taught me to bake, and murdered your favorite Santa all in one day.”
Jaz’s grin is brighter than the Christmas lights outside. “Honey, this is what women do for their friends. We bake, we vent, and yes, we occasionally commit Santa-cide and then pretend it never happened. And if we’re lucky, we’ll laugh about it in ten years over guacamole and chips. That’s the magic of friendship.”