Chapter 2
Wes
The incessant chorus of birds outside my window rips me from sleep.
I groan, covering my face with a pillow to hide from the sun. Pretending to be asleep once again fails to convince my cats, Peanut and Muffin, that I’m not awake, and they join the birds, their cries becoming more desperate the longer I ignore them.
When I crack open my eye, Peanut sits before me with an impressive look of disdain. My acknowledgment of her existence emboldens her, and her front paw lands on my arm. Please, sir. Yes, I imagine my fifteen-pound, all-black cat as having the voice of a British aristocrat.
“Fine,” I grumble, shoving the blanket off and sliding out of bed. My back screams at the sudden movement, reminding me that my thirty-two-year-old body can’t recover like it used to from a beer league hockey game.
The cats sprint from the bedroom, cutting diagonally down the steps in front of me. I expect it, pausing my walk, so I don’t stumble and find myself at the bottom of the steps.
“Oh, hello, Wesley,” my brother, Spencer, croons, sporting that boyish smile that has gotten him out of trouble our entire lives.
He sits at my kitchen table, drinking coffee out of my favorite mug—a picture of Alec Baldwin from Glen Garry Glen Ross with the line, Coffee is for closers—as if he lives here.
“About time you got your butt out of bed.”
“What are you doing here, Spence?”
“Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” he replies in that self-satisfied tone that grates on me, especially this early in the morning. He knows it does, too. “Your coffee’s in the microwave, by the way. You’re welcome.”
“Thanks,” I mumble.
I feed the cats quickly, and glorious silence descends as they focus on eating. Normally, I don’t have to speak to anyone until after my morning workout and coffee hits my bloodstream. I love my little brother, but I prefer that. It’s best for everyone else, too.
Spence waits until I’m sipping my coffee, seated at the table across from him, before he speaks again. “You ready for today?”
I take a long drag from my coffee cup as I consider his question.
Our niece, Thea, is flying in from California to stay with me for the summer.
Despite a career sheet of one-episode stints on various procedurals, my sister, Ella, never left LA or gave up on her quest for fame.
She joined the cast of Love Is Blind as her latest bid for a career breakout moment, leaving Thea without a guardian.
Ella asked me last week if Thea could stay with me for the duration of this latest adventure. She knows I’d never say no.
“I finished the list El sent me,” I answer.
My house is fully stocked with feminine products, cases of yellow and red Gatorade, and more creams and hair products than I’d bought in my lifetime. I also enrolled Thea in a co-ed hockey training camp that runs all summer at my rink.
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
“Am I ready to parent a teenage girl? That’s what you’re asking?”
Spence drains the dregs of his coffee cup, then places it onto the table and pushes it into the center between us. “Okay, scratch that. But we need a game plan before she gets here, right?”
I raise my eyebrow. “We?”
“You think I’d let you do this alone?”
“You have your hands full this summer, Spencer.” With Isla fucking Covington, the first woman to knock me on my ass. “I’m not the professional athlete.”
I’d wanted that life when I was a kid, but I was lucky to play four years as part of the third defensive pair for a D1 hockey team.
Spencer leans back in his seat. “And I’m not a business owner with employees depending on me.”
“Not the same thing,” I contend, shaking my head.
Despite his success in pairs skating over the last decade, my brother has managed to remain humble.
Growing up without the advantages that most of his competitors had probably helped with that.
He also doesn’t compete in a sport that pays worth a damn or gets attention outside of the winter Olympics every four years.
“My schedule is more flexible than yours,” I add, “and what you’re going to be dealing with—”
He holds up a hand. “That’s the second time you’ve said something like that.”
I run my finger over the rim of my coffee cup. “You have six months to get ready before you need to compete to secure a spot at Nationals. With a new partner. Most people wouldn’t go for it.”
His brow wrinkles. “You don’t think I can do it?”
“I have full faith in you, brother.”
“But not in my choice of partner, then.”
Earlier this year, Spencer’s former partner—the one who had been with him for a decade—decided to retire after she tore her ACL for the second time in her career.
Spence was devastated for months, thinking that he’d have to hang up his skates too.
Finding a partner for pairs skating seems harder than finding a romantic partner; at least the person you date doesn’t hold your life in their hands, literally.
I hated watching him mope around like a lost puppy dog, so when he excitedly told me about the possibility of teaming up with Isla Covington, I kept my mouth shut. Spencer’s eyes sparkled for the first time, and no way would I be the one to throw cold water on his optimism.
“What is your problem with Isla?” Spence presses, steepling his hands together on the table in front of him.
I shove out of my seat to avoid looking him in the eye. “Her reputation precedes her.”
“Her reputation,” he repeats, following me into the kitchen. “How do you know about her reputation?”
Good fucking question, Spence. The extent of my pairs skating knowledge extends fifty feet to him. Despite watching hundreds of his competitions through the years, I couldn’t name a single move he does or explain how they determine a winner.
But I’ve known who Isla Covington is since I was eighteen years old.
“You think I wouldn’t look into the woman you’re staking the rest of your career on? Who you’re bringing into our lives? You roped me into letting her teach at my rink—”
Spencer holds up his hands. “Whoa, whoa, wh—”
But I barrel on. “So of course I’m going to do a background check on her. I don’t know her. You don’t know her.”
“Coming from the guy who half this town worries about pissing off. People aren’t always their reputations, Wes.
” Spence places his hands on my shoulders, turning me until we face each other.
I’ve got a couple of inches on him and about twenty pounds of muscle, but I let him hold me in place.
If I have a soft spot, it’s for the man who stands in front of me.
“Sometimes they are.”
Spencer drops his head as he slowly lets out an exasperated breath.
“Isla can skate her ass off. I love her style; it’s like vicious gracefulness.
I don’t care what her last partner or the media say about her.
Rowan vouches for her, and I’m going to make up my own mind.
Isla knows this is a trial basis. I’m sure she has the same questions about me. ”
Five years ago, Spence did a photoshoot for a magazine issue about male athletes whose names you don’t know but should.
That’s where he met Rowan, who plays professional tennis, and they’ve been friends ever since.
I know he’s a good guy, but Spencer’s resting his career on this decision to pair with Isla.
I owe him my skepticism, to protect him.
“And as for the instructor job,” he goes on, “you’re the one always complaining about how you’re short-staffed and losing money because of it, but you’re too stubborn and suspicious of people to give anyone a chance.
So maybe I forced it on you, but you will be thanking me for it later.
If you called Isla’s references, I suspect you know that, too. ”
I’m too fucking tired and my nerves are too jumbled to fight him on this.
I’d only do it to save my pride since, while I’m loath to admit it, Spencer has made valid points.
I wouldn’t want people to judge me based on what my ex-wife has to say about me, or hearsay about my past. I also can’t hold what happened when we were kids against Isla, even if my stubborn ass so desperately wants to.
Instead of admitting my acquiescence to his argument, I grumble, “I’m holding your ass accountable if this all goes to shit.”
“Wait, did I…win this argument?” He runs to the window like a fucking golden retriever who hears their owner coming to the front door. “I don’t see any ice, so hell hasn’t frozen over. Not yet, anyway.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t have time to argue about this. We can’t be late to pick up Thea.”
“El did say Thea has been a handful lately.”
“Right, well, excuse me if I don’t take the word of a woman trying to find love on TV and shipping her kid across the country away from all her friends and her hockey team to do it.”
I groan, realization dawning on me how pissed off Thea probably is and how often people take their emotions out on the people in closest proximity. In this case: me.
“What is it?” he asks.
“She’s going to make my life hell.”
He flashes that stupid shit-eating grin at me for the millionth time in our lives, and as always, it stokes my annoyance. “Who, Isla? Or Thea?”
I snatch my keys off the table and head down toward the garage. “I hate you,” I call out.
“You love me!” he shouts in an exaggeratedly happy tone as he jogs down the steps behind me. “You’d be totally lost without me.”
“Just get in the car,” I mutter, motioning toward it with a flick of my wrist.
He salutes me. “Sir, yes, sir.”
There is apparently no shortage of people in my life with the capacity to test my patience.
Spencer holds a makeshift sign he constructed in the car, using a couple of receipts held together by hastily chewed gum. TD, Thea’s hockey nickname, is written in black Sharpie on it.
Thea’s easy to spot in the crowd, carrying a huge duffel bag with hockey equipment, including a stick protruding from the top.
“Tha-Tha-Tha-Thea,” Spencer begins to sing, in the cadence of an old Chia Pet infomercial from when we were kids.
Thea flinches, head spinning from side to side, scanning the room to see if anyone is watching us.
She’s too young to understand the reference, but she’s mortified about the spectacle being made of her arrival.
She readjusts her black Palmer City Wolves baseball cap, pulling it down further on her forehead to hide her face.
I elbow Spence in the arm, frustrated that his antics could agitate her and lead to the situation I’d hoped to avoid.
“Welcome to Carolina!” Spencer announces as Thea reaches us.
“Hi.” She crosses her arms, shifting her weight to one side as she stares at Spencer with the same displeased expression I expect he saw from me this morning. “Was that necessary?”
I bump Spencer’s shoulder. “Unfortunately, he cannot be stopped. I’ve tried.”
He throws his hands in the air. “God forbid I show emotion when seeing my niece for the first time in years.”
Hearing it out loud—that Thea hasn’t seen us in person in years—uncomfortably twists my stomach.
The time passed in a blink. We stay in touch with monthly family video calls, even when Spencer is on the road competing, but we let the distance separate us.
There were always reasons El couldn’t visit us, dates when Spencer was out of the country, and times I didn’t have anyone I trusted to cover the rink.
Guilt settles into my gut as I stare at Thea. We should’ve tried harder.
“You saw me last week on FaceTime,” she states flatly.
Spence throws an arm around her shoulders, momentarily jostling her duffel. “Not the same, TD.” She side-eyes him, the look sharper because of her heavy black eye makeup. “What, I can’t call you that?”
“No one calls me that outside of the team.”
“I guess I have no other option than to use your childhood nickname.” He pinches her side. “Pickle.”
She shoves him and he drifts away from her, laughing. She glances in my direction as if I can rein him in.
“Knock it off, Spence,” falls from my lips without a second thought, having said it all my life. “Right. Well.” I gesture toward the door, hoping to move us along. “Need anything at baggage?”
She turns that sharp-eyed stare on me. Jesus. I am woefully unprepared for her attitude.
“I’m good,” Thea says, shrugging a shoulder and drawing attention to her duffel.
“Let me take this.” Spence places a hand on the handle of her roller suitcase. Thea holds on for a moment before reluctantly letting it go. He flashes me a stupid grin. “You aren’t going to offer to take her other bag?”
She sighs loudly. She’s more like me than I realized.
I glare at him. Something tells me that Thea would resist, wanting to take care of herself. I can’t imagine growing up with a mother like Ella could make a person any other way.
Thea wags a finger between us. “Are you like this all the time?”
“No,” Spencer says, over my muttered, “Yes.”
“Great.” The words have barely left her lips before she heads toward the exit without a glance to see if we are following her. I think I hear her mutter the words, Can’t believe I’m stuck here all summer.
I’d be furious if I had to uproot my entire life and miss out on a summer of hockey with my team because of my selfish parent. Consistent with the rest of my life, I’m left to clean up my sister’s mess.
“Hey, Thea,” I say, catching up beside her. “Would you want to paint your room?”
Her head jerks toward me, a small sign of excitement, before she looks forward, expression neutral again. “Can I pick the color?”
“Yeah, it’s your room.”
“Okay,” she says.
Spence shoots me a thumbs up, thankfully not in the vicinity of Thea’s line of sight.
“Can we also stop at that ice cream place I like on the way home?” she asks as we cross the street toward the airport parking lot.
It’s not on the way home any longer, but she doesn’t know that since she hasn’t seen my place since I moved. But I’ll do anything to help smooth this transition for her, and to keep the peace this summer.
“Yes,” Spencer says, dragging out the word as he rubs his hands together. “I’d kill for one of those vanilla Oreo cookie swirls.” He turns his sad boy eyes on me. “Please, Wes.”
I glance at my watch. We’ll need to wait fifteen minutes for the ice cream place to open, but I suspect these two won’t mind as long as they walk away with their ice cream. I’ve also taken a rare day off, leaving the rink in the hands of my employees today, so I could help Thea settle in.
“Sure,” I say with a shrug. “We can stop.”
It’ll take a lot more than ice cream to help ease my concerns about all the changes in my life. Thea moving in with me for the summer. Selling my father’s home to move him into assisted living. Isla Covington unexpectedly entering my universe again.
But it’s a start.