Chapter Sixteen
CARTER
“You’re still here.” Sophie’s voice comes from behind me, and I look over my shoulder at her. She’s adorably sleep-rumpled in a giant t-shirt and small sleep shorts, her hair a little crazy.
“I am,” I say with a raised brow, then turn back to fiddle with the coffee maker. I had thrown on the clothes I wore to the club last night, on the slim chance that Tom and Jordan came home earlier than expected. “Did you think I wouldn’t be?”
“I don’t know…”
I pour two mugs, then move to the fridge to pull out the coffee creamer.
Salted caramel cream. Of course.
I pour creamer in the mug until the coffee is the correct color, and make a matching one for myself. “When I woke up and saw you weren’t in bed, I just thought…” She trails off, uncertain, and it hits me. Her hesitation.
The last time we slept together, I was gone in the morning, and she didn’t see me for nine years. I imagine her waking up a few minutes ago to an empty bed, thinking the worst of me again.
I’m such an idiot. I should have stayed in bed until she woke up. Or woken her up with my head between her legs, giving her a taste of what life could be like for us now.
Last night was… amazing. Better than I had even dreamed. We’ve both grown and matured in the last decade, especially with our sexuality. As much as we’ve changed, we’re still very compatible in that category. Bringing her pleasure gave me more satisfaction than I had thought possible.
Before I can tell her I have no desire to leave her feeling alone again, she sits at the kitchen table, pulling the laptop there towards her. She’s acting a little fidgety, like she isn’t sure what to do with me here. Her eyes dart over to me, and she fiddles with the ends of her hair. The last thing that I want is to make her uncomfortable, but if me being here the morning after sex pushes her out of her comfort zone, well, maybe it’s just something she needs to get used to.
“Work?” I ask, tilting my head towards her laptop as I bring the mugs over to the table and sit across from her. The t-shirt she’s swimming in catches my eye. “Is that… is that one of my old shirts?”
I don’t know why I ask, it obviously is. It’s an Ivy Glen High Wolverines hockey shirt. Regardless, her cheeks turn a deep red as she flips her laptop open.
“I just grabbed the first sleep shirt I could find,” she says defensively.
“But you kept it. All these years, even with what I did, you kept my hockey shirt.”
“It’s… it’s a really soft shirt.” She smiles a little, the awkwardness between us fading a bit. I’ll let the shirt thing go, but seeing her wearing it… well, it gives me almost as much hope as last night did.
Sophie turns her attention to her computer and I settle in, happy to be in the moment with her. She starts typing and it’s clear her focus has shifted from us to something else. Has to be work . I sip my coffee contentedly. She glances up with a quirk to her lips. “Don’t tell my mom I’m working.”
A chuckle escapes me. “Your secret’s safe.” Sophie deflates, a faux sigh of relief escaping her, so I ask, “But… why can’t she know?”
Sophie takes a sip of the coffee I made her and moans. “You made that perfectly .” She takes another sip before putting it down. “Mom banned me from working this weekend. She says that I don’t take any days off.” She rolls her eyes even though I’m pretty sure her mom is correct on that front. “They can keep me from entering the Twin Rinks and the flower shop, but they can’t stop me from going over their finances.”
“What a rebel.” I smile over the rim of my mug.
Damn.
That is some good shit.
“It’s like a puzzle.” She’s so entranced by the numbers on the screen, she doesn’t even look at me when she talks. “It’s my favorite part of any of my jobs. Numbers make sense. I don’t have to decide if two plus two equals four—it just is. The correct answer always comes through, you just have to find it.”
I’ve never heard anyone so enthusiastic about… accounting.
It’s soothing watching her work. When she bites her lip and scrolls, I can tell she’s looking for something specific. Then her eyes widen just the slightest bit before a triumphant smile lights up her face, and she’s typing away again.
She always loved math in high school. It brings me back to watching her across one of our parents' kitchen tables as we worked on homework together. She would catch me staring and turn the cutest pink color.
After a while of watching and guessing what’s going on with the numbers based on her facial expressions, I say, “Do you want to come with me to meet with the developer?”
“Hmm, I think I’ll get in trouble with my mom if I do that.” She shoots me a wink before turning her attention back to the screen. “Can you just fill me in later? I really need to get this done anyway.”
“Yeah, no worries. I’ll text you later.” Taking my chances, I lean in and give her a peck on the cheek. She reddens slightly, but doesn’t push me away. I feel like we really reconnected last night, which eased some of our tension, but it’s going to take a little extra time—and some groveling on my part—to get completely into her good graces again.
“See you later, Angel,” I murmur next to her, nipping her ear playfully and earning a little yelp in return. Her eyes are heated as I pull away.
I can wait, but I’m only human.
Grinning, I leave her house, taking a rideshare to the hotel to change and pick up my car before going to Twin Rinks. I feel better than I have in months. Hell, in years even.
“George!” I greet the contractor with a hearty handshake and clap on the shoulder when I enter the rinks. “Were you waiting long?”
“Not at all.” He grins. “Are you ready to go over the contract and we can get things going once we get Ms. Hartwell’s and the council’s approval?”
“Let’s do it, we can sit in the bleachers.”
An hour later, I’m sitting in the Twin Rinks lobby as the sound of kids showing up for hockey practice fills the air, a stark reminder of why we’re here, trying to save this place. George and I have gone through every revision and item that needs updating, and I take a copy to bring to Sophie and the council.
“Would you give this one to the council as well?” George asks, pulling a packet of papers from his bag.
“What is it?” My brow furrows in confusion as I take it from him.
“It’s an alternate proposal that one of the council members asked for. He said it wouldn’t pass, but he wanted to see it down in writing anyway.”
I’m about to flip through the packet when he claps me on the shoulder. “Once we get both signatures, we can get started the next day. You just let me know.”
“You got it, George.” I smile at him as he walks away, and it finally feels like things are going well. I made headway with Sophie, the rinks are coming together, and still not a peep from Dad.
I find myself with my hands braced on the side of one of the rinks, staring out at the ice as one of the practices starts. The kids begin with warm-ups, skating laps around the rink. So many memories flash through my mind. Playing with my high school team, going skating with Sophie on the weekends, watching her games with her rec team…
“Carter, my man! How are you? It’s been too long.” My head turns to find a guy who looks vaguely familiar, all up in my space and smiling at me like we’re best friends. My eyes narrow as I try to place him. His blonde hair is styled neatly, longer on the top and shorter on the sides. And while he seems like he might work out, he doesn’t carry himself in a way that would suggest that he played sports in high school.
I definitely don’t know him from hockey.
“Oscar Davis, from high school, remember?” He sticks his hand out, and I barely recall hearing that name from Sophie a couple of times back then. Well, more like Abbie and Gwen giggling about something and Sophie telling them to shut up.
“Hey, man, how are you?” I don’t really care, but engaging seems like the fastest way to make this guy leave, so I shake his hand and step back to regain some of my much needed space.
“I’m good.” He nods. “So, you and Sophie working on saving the rink, huh? Is the old team back together again?”
Shit, that’s right. This is the little fucker who had a huge crush on Soph back in high school. Abbie and Gwen teased her relentlessly over it, and she always told them to leave it alone because he was harmless.
Despite the fact that he came to all of her hockey games and always tried to talk to her in the hallways, he was never a threat to our relationship so I left well enough alone. I only ever stepped in if she was uncomfortable, but I was never rude about it.
“Yeah, we’re both working on the project to save the rec center.” My answer is noncommittal, but how interested he is in the situation irks me.
“Sure, but have you… rekindled the old flame yet? Do you really think you and her will work this time? How long are you even planning on staying here? I doubt she’ll put up with you abandoning her a second time.”
What the hell is this guy playing at? He’s acting way too familiar for my liking. And I definitely don’t like the sound of her name on his lips.
Time for the “Golden-Boy” gloves to come off.
“I’m not sure that’s really any of your business, Owen.”
“It’s Oscar.” He narrows his eyes at me.
“Sure it is. Listen, Owen, I don’t really like the way you’re talking about Sophie and me.” I fix him with a look that I’ve perfected during my years of dealing with reporters. “You’re asking me a lot of personal questions, and it really isn’t any of your business.”
Oscar barks a sarcastic laugh. “Okay, fine. Just tell me, is it really weird seeing her again? I mean, especially after she’s been with me.”
What the actual fuck.
Even if she had been with him over the years, it’s her business. Why the hell does he think that would matter? And why is he disrespecting her privacy like that?
I arch a cold brow. “Are you in the habit of discussing Sophie’s private life with others? Because I might take offense to that.”
Oscar takes a half-step back, and a glint of worry sparks in his eyes before he waves me off. “Forget it. Catch you later, Williams.”
I don’t respond. Fuck that guy.
I turn back towards the ice after Oscar slithers off, and a moment later, Benson Scott approaches me.
“Poor kid.” He clicks his tongue. “I don’t know if you remember, but his dad, Julian, used to be on the town council. He passed away from cancer last year. Oscar got elected to take over his seat.”
“Yeah…” I scowl, watching Oscar’s back disappear out the double doors of the rink. Shaking myself out of my funk, I turn towards Benson, who’s looking at me with curiosity. “I just met with the contractor, and have a final proposal that just needs Sophie and the council’s sign off, and then we can get started within a couple of days. We should start putting up signs now, warning the patrons we’ll be closed for an undetermined amount of time. Have we confirmed with Willow Creek that their rink can accommodate all the teams that need to practice?” Willow Creek is the next town over and is only about a thirty minute drive from Ivy Glen.
Benson smiles. “Yep, heard back yesterday.” He’s quiet as he looks out at the rink. “You think Sophie will sign off on the changes?” he asks cautiously. “You know how much she cares about this place.”
“I do.” I nod solemnly, “With this proposal, the heart and soul of this place will stay intact. It’ll just have a shinier casing.”
Benson murmurs his approval and I feel the need to stop him before he leaves. “I hope you know, Benson,” I take a breath as he focuses his gaze on me, “I care about the Twin Rinks immensely, but nobody, not even me, feels that as deeply as Sophie does. And I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure the new rebuild does her justice.”
Benson only gives me a knowing smile. “Oh, I know, my boy. I know.”