Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Willa
B ut instead of pressing his lips to mine, he smiled.
“I need a good truth question,” he said, releasing me. Once he was certain I was steady, he skated around me, slapping a stray puck as he went.
A shaky breath escaped me. Had I imagined that?
There had been A Moment .
Time had slowed. His pupils had dilated.
What the hell?
I should be relieved, but instead, I felt cheated.
As I watched him skate, a chill rushed through me. When he was close, I’d forgotten all about how cold it was in here. To warm myself, I glided around, getting my legs moving and breathing deep, trying to recover from whatever the hell had just passed between us.
Before I was fully in control of my hormones, he skated up behind me and draped an arm over my shoulders. “I want you to tell me a story,” he said.
I frowned at him. “About what?”
“About your first kiss.” He raised one eyebrow.
Huh. So now he was thinking about kissing. Where was that train of thought a few moments ago?
I kept skating, not particularly interested in walking down that part of memory lane.
“Come on,” he teased. “Who was it?”
I turned toward him and swallowed thickly. “Jonathan Billings.”
He stopped skating, his eyes widening. “Seriously?”
Annoyance flashed through me. “You asked.”
“Okay,” he said, taking off again. “I need to hear this story.”
I skated faster, wishing I could escape him but knowing it was an impossibility. I was suddenly filled with a lot of pent-up aggression. Maybe I’d go back to practicing the slap shot he’d been teaching me earlier.
Thinking about Jonathan made my stomach knot and my heart ache. I had been a junior in high school, and he was the first boy who’d ever shown interest in me. “Jonathan and I flirted constantly for several months. He was on the math team too, and we were partners for debate. It was a big year. We qualified for the state championship and were assigned to argue why the metric system was superior and should be implemented in the United States.”
“I played hockey in Europe for a few years. I totally agree.”
My stomach churned at the memories that flooded me. He would put his arm around me a lot. Make excuses to touch me. All the clues Seventeen magazine told me were surefire indicators that he wanted me to be his girlfriend.
“I was used to being ignored by boys. And if not ignored, then not desired like girls like Lila were,” I explained. “Sure, they’d stare at my chest and make jokes about my boobs, but no one was asking me out. During the spring of our junior year, I spun out this wild romantic fantasy in my head. Jonathan and I would win the state debate championship, and then he’d ask me to junior prom. From there, we’d naturally make our relationship official. Go to college together and get engaged the day I graduated from med school.”
He was skating backward now, only an arm’s length away, listening intently. I liked that about Cole. When I spoke, he listened. As much as I did not enjoy telling this story, I appreciated that he was making an effort to get to know me. That he cared about what I had to say. “That’s a very specific fantasy,” he joked.
Frowning, I shrugged. “One of the disadvantages of having your life carefully planned out for you is that there isn’t much room for wild fantasy.”
“So what happened?”
“We were practicing at my house one night. Making note cards and researching different forms of government. It was chilly, but he suggested we take a walk to clear our heads before studying for our chem test. So we bundled up and walked through town. The streetlights had come on, and the sun was setting. God, it was perfect. And right in front of Baxter Park, he stopped, took my hand, and kissed me. In that moment, all my teen dreams came true.”
Cole stopped skating and crossed his arms, which looked absurd with his hockey gloves on. “Really?” He arched a brow. “Really. Jonathan Billings was a great kisser?”
I waved off the question. “I had no frame of reference, and it felt very romantic at the time.”
After the kiss, we walked home, hand in hand, my heart absolutely soaring. Greatest day of my life. While we studied, my mom made microwave popcorn. As sad as it was, I felt chosen. Special. Like because this boy liked me, I was suddenly worthy.
Pathetic was more like it.
I had been raised by the best people. My mom was curvy, like me. She’d always taken great care of herself and had set a wonderful example of confidence and acceptance. She never once put me on a diet or implied there was anything wrong with me.
In fact, my parents always celebrated me and supported me. They were proud of every single part of me.
If only the world had agreed. Finding clothes was next to impossible, and I had to order old lady bras off the internet by the time I was sixteen. By junior high, I knew that I wasn’t the kind of person guys considered desirable. Because of that, it became the thing I wanted more than anything. To be desired. To be wanted and cherished.
God, I was such a sad sack.
Cole was silent, watching me, patiently waiting for the rest of the story. “So then you became boyfriend and girlfriend and you eventually dumped him because he wasn’t even close to good enough for you?”
I threw my head back and barked out a laugh. “Not even close. The whole thing was a disaster.”
Picking up speed, I pretended to be really focused on skating, head down and locked on the ice ahead of me.
But he wasn’t letting me off the hook. “Tell me what happened.” A moment ago, his voice had been laced with amusement. Now it was filled with pure concern.
“It’s stupid.”
He grasped my arm and steered me toward the home team’s bench. When we approached, he opened the door and gestured for me to go in.
As I sat, he dropped to the bench beside me, his shoulder pressed to mine.
“Did he hurt you?” he asked, his dark eyes full of fury.
“The next day, I woke up extra early, did my hair and makeup, and walked into school, ready for our debut as a couple, anxious for the entire population of the Penobscot Regional High School to know.”
Closing my eyes, I exhaled. In my mind, I could see my outfit and even smell the dab of my mother’s perfume I’d applied for the occasion.
“And he ignored me.”
Cole went rigid, gripping the edge of the bench on either side of his thighs. “Are you kidding me?”
“Nope. He walked away. I was so confused. I figured we’d be eating lunch together and he’d walk me to class and all of that. You know, boyfriend behavior.”
He nodded, his head lowered.
“So I caught up to him in the parking lot after school. We sat in his Honda Civic, and you know what he said? The asshole actually said, ‘Do you expect me to be your boyfriend now?’”
“He didn’t.”
“And me, the total dumbass, said yes.”
My face was hot and probably the color of a tomato. It had been fifteen years, and I was still humiliated.
“Then he laughed at me. Actually laughed. Before going on to explain that he could not date me. That he thought we could hook up privately, but he wouldn’t be my boyfriend.”
Cole hissed. “That asshole.”
“He said he couldn’t date a chubby girl.”
“I will fucking end him.”
I put my gloved hand on his thigh. “Stop. It was a long time ago. And trust me, I should have slapped him and taken off. Instead, I sat there and listened to him explain why I wasn’t good enough to be his girlfriend.” Tears stung at the backs of my eyes. God, this was embarrassing. But it had hurt so much. As he droned on, I had stared out at the parked cars, wondering how I’d gotten it so wrong. How I’d misread all the signals.
With his hand covering mine, Cole rasped, “I am so sorry.”
“He was not the last. Over the years, I’ve discovered that men I’m interested in are very happy to hook up with me, but no one wants to date me.”
Head lifted, Cole glowered. “Not true.”
“It’s fine. I’ve made my peace with it. I haven’t even told you the best part yet.”
His eyes widened. “There’s more?”
Heart sinking, I nodded. “Oh yes. He then told me he had a crush on Molly Johnson. And asked if I could set him up with her.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Cole growled. “The guy hooked up with you, then told you that you were delusional for thinking he would date you, then asked you to set him up with one of your friends?”
I nodded.
“And Molly Johnson?”
“She’s a nice person.” I shrugged. “I think she’s a dental hygienist in Connecticut.”
“Yes. Perfectly nice. But not even in your league.”
Seriously? He threw those words out without a moment of hesitation. Like he really believed them. That was strangely comforting.
“Eh. Not to Jonathan. She was small and skinny and didn’t have opinions.” I shrugged. “You know, the kind of girl guys love.”
I stood, keeping my focus averted. It was getting late, and we should probably clean up all pucks before we left.
He stood next to me, his eyes darker than normal and filled with heat.
“No. Not all guys want that.”
With one brow raised, I got back on the ice. The Cole I knew was not the man who had dated Lila. That was true. But he was still the guy who’d spent eight years with the local beauty queen.
He was the kind of guy who’d only been seen with beautiful, sparkling arm candy. That was fine. He was a gorgeous man. It made sense. But I really didn’t want to hear it right now. Especially after we’d come so close to kissing earlier.
Because this little trip down memory lane had reminded me of exactly why it was imperative to keep my guard up.
It was the story of my life. Ever since I’d filled out an F-cup at fourteen, boys had wanted to hook up with me. Not one of them had ever wanted to date me, to claim me, though. The world gaslit women, telling us it was in our heads. That there was a person out there for everyone. But that was pure bullshit.
My body had been weaponized against me from my earliest memories. Every time I thought otherwise, I ended up sorely disappointed. And right now, I liked Cole too much to risk being let down by him.
Seeming to get the message, he quietly cleaned up the pucks and pushed the nets back into their place.
With the bucket of pucks in hand, he met me at the gate.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice back to its soft default and his brow furrowed. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
I studied him for a quiet moment. He was a good person and a good friend. I couldn’t hold him responsible for every injustice I’d experienced with other men.
“It’s okay. I’m sorry for dumping all the teen romantic drama on you.”
“I’m glad you did,” he said, practically boring a hole in my head with the intensity with which he was looking at me. “I want to learn all your secrets, Willa. I never liked Jonathan Billings. You know that? And now I’ve got an excuse to kick his ass. So thank you.”
“Do not.” I held up a hand. “It wouldn’t be a fair fight.”
“He lives near here, right?” Ignoring my command, he clomped over to his giant hockey bag. “Insurance?”
“I’m not telling you.”
“It’s fine. Can’t wait to bump into him in town.”
“Cole Hebert, you do not need to avenge teenage Willa’s broken heart.” That logic came straight from thirty-one-year-old Willa, but inside, teen Willa was positively giddy that a boy was determined to fight for her. Sadly, with the caveman act he was putting on, teen Willa was currently winning.
He tore his gloves off and tossed them into his bag. Then he strode toward me in his skates, only stopping when he was inches away.
With more gentleness than seemed possible from such a big man, he tilted my chin up with his fingers.
“I want to,” he rasped. “I hate that he made you feel unattractive and unworthy.”
I sucked in a breath at the earnestness in his tone.
“No one treats my wife like that.”