Chapter 19
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
COLE
Powdered sugar fights were apparently not on the agenda for cookie day in the D’Amore kitchen.
Nor was there apparently enough powdered sugar for the intensity of both Natalie and my fight and royal icing.
Mrs. D’Amore made us go to the market to buy more—a walk down the aisle she made us do in shame, not letting us wash off the mess after the fight went too far.
After leaning in and kissing my cheek, Natalie let out a wicked laugh.
She’d used my need to be near her, to hear her liking me, to gather fistfuls of sugar behind her back and then covered me.
In my stupor, I blinked and then…Well, I took things too far and picked her up and slammed her ass in the giant metal bowl of sugar.
Apparently, ass sugar is frowned upon.
I hoped the bouquet I grabbed at the market would be a good “I’m sorry I slammed your daughter’s ass in the sugar” apology. Mrs. D’Amore seemed to like them well enough, anyway.
Now that we’ve showered we’re trudging toward a frozen pond in the back of the D’Amore property, our boots crunching in the firm snow.
Two pairs of skates bump against my back.
Every few seconds, Natalie’s mittened hand brushes softly against my own.
My fingers stretch, wanting to grab it and keep her tucked close to my side.
Instead, I keep my hands to myself.
She’s quiet. Inward.
Ahead, white lights flicker through the trees. The pond beneath the lights glows like a secret garden in the woods. “Hey, sugarplum. What do you have dancing up there?”
She hesitates. “Have you ever felt like you had to be someone you’re not just to be liked?”
My chest tightens. All the freaking time. “Like who you are isn’t enough?”
“No. More like too much.”
I step over a fallen branch, biting down on my first instinct to tell her she’s perfect.
She wouldn’t believe it, anyway. “No, I can’t say I’ve ever felt like that.
But I know what it’s like to feel you need to change who you are to protect yourself.
Sort of like emotional hockey pads or something. ”
She tilts her head at me, surprised. “You do? Really?”
“Yeah.” My throat goes dry. This is the part where I usually clam up.
Where I hide behind cocky comments and pretend I’m so up-my-ass about myself that I couldn’t fathom Natalie not liking me.
But I promised her I’d be me, so here I am.
The dude that’s terrified she’ll see the real me, and still hate me. “That’s what I’ve been doing with you.”
Her eyes flick to mine. “What do you mean?”
I look out at the snow-laden trees instead of her.
“Between my brother and me, Caden’s the big personality.
Always has been. I’ve been okay with letting him have the spotlight.
But with you…” I rub at the back of my neck, embarrassed.
“I couldn’t stomach it. So I made myself bigger.
Louder. Even if it was negative attention, at least you noticed me. ”
She stops walking. “That’s what you’ve been doing? Cole, all you had to do to get my attention was to be…this. Be you. You would have gotten my attention immediately.”
I shake my head. I honestly don’t believe her, not after Caden’s lie twisted everything.
“I would have gotten there eventually,” she says, much smaller—she’s hurt.
“You didn’t trust me, though. So for the last three years I thought you looked at me like Dillon did, that I was a mess, chaos, loud, and not worth the time of day.
I know, I know a lot of that is my fault, too, though.
” She rubs her arms, looking at the snow.
The wound in her voice causes me to stop and finally grab one of her mittened hands.
“I wish I had known or saw what I was doing. I’m so sorry I haven’t been honest with you.
About how we met. About who I really am.
I get it if you never want to see me again after all this.
But if I can make one thing crystal clear right now, it’s that I definitely do not think like Dillon.
I hated that guy even before I knew he was the one you were crying over.
I’m not Caden either, and that’s never been seen as a good thing.
“I’m not good at this — the talking, the parties. I’d rather be in my room reading on a Friday night. But I’ve always wanted to talk to you. Be with you. You were always worth everything to me. If there’s even a slight chance I haven’t blown it completely, I’ll beg, grovel — whatever you need.”
She looks up at me, eyes wide, cheeks flushed from the cold. Something in her expression softens.
“I do love a good grovel,” she murmurs.
Relief hits me so hard I almost laugh. “Good. I think it’s better suited to my personality anyway.” I squeeze her hand and nod toward the lights ahead. “Shall we?”
We reach the pond, and she asks, “Why is your nickname on the hockey team the Prince of Blood?”
I smirk. “Why do you think?”
“I thought it was because you were evil? Or violent on the ice? But I’m not getting that impression anymore. The nickname doesn’t fit.”
I pat her hand and steer her toward the bench. “You’re right, it’s not that. But I think you’ve had enough revelations for one day. No need to send you into a deeper spiral.”
Because the reality is, I had that nickname for years when the guys on the team were older…but now that they’ve all graduated, it’s gone away too. I didn’t hate it. It kind of sounded badass if you didn’t know the real story, and even the real story tied me to Natalie, so who the fuck cared.
Natalie tsks at me. “You still think you know me well enough to know I wouldn’t be able to handle it.”
“I do. And it’s going to break you.” I bend down and slide her foot into her skate.
“I thought we were going to let me make my own decisions.”
“I’ll tell you eventually. Just not now. I want to skate and breathe, if that’s okay.” I grab her laces, wrapping them around my fingers and pulling tight.
“What are you doing? I can do that myself.”
“I want to make sure they’re nice and tight, it’s important.”
“Yeah, I know. I was—” She cuts herself off mid-sentence. “Wait. You don’t know.”
I look up and meet her eyes, sparkling with mischief. “Know what?”
“Help me up, please,” she says sweetly. I slip my hands under her arms and lift. She wobbles like she’s Bambi on ice, and I tighten my hold, arms wrapping around her and tug her to me.
“Easy there, tiger. Did you want to come out here so I’d have to hold you? Because I’m jealous I didn’t think of that first.”
She snuggles closer to my chest. “Shh,” she whispers. “I’m busy pretending I’m not a World Junior Figure Skating Champion.”
I still. “I’m sorry. What?”
She shrugs, then pushes off the edge and glides across the pond. Smooth. Effortless. Her blades whisper over the ice. Like a lovestruck idiot, I stand near the bench, my hands hidden in my pockets, and watch her twirl on the ice, as if the frozen surface were her home.
She jumps. Spins. Lands clean. Graceful.
Out of all the accolades I could pour over her, graceful would be near the bottom, but at this…she’s a natural. It feels like we were both born here.
My chest aches. She’s not just beautiful. She’s everything.
She catches me staring and I don’t bother to hide it admiring her flushed cheeks, bright eyes, and red hair spilling out of her hat and sparkling in the lights. Every time she looks at me, I swear I forget how to breathe.
The ice has always been my home. The place where a quiet mind and mouth was okay.
Since yesterday, Natalie’s been slowly fading into the same feeling, like my internal screaming is finding a chair with a footstool by a fire, settling in, and quieting.
So finding that she and I can share a home here, well, she really couldn’t be more perfect for me.
She circles back and glides right up to me with a grin spread wide across her face. “Whatchu thinking about sugarplum?”
“You really don’t want to know what’s going on in my head right now,” I say. My voice comes out hoarse.
“I really do, though,” she teases, grabbing fists of my jacket and pulling me closer.
“You. Always fucking you,” I murmur, pressing my forehead to hers.
She laughs softly. “That sounds terrible.”
“It’s usually miserable,” I admit. “But you… fuck, Natalie. You’re incredible.”
“You really like me, huh?” she teases, her lips just inches from mine.
“I liked you when I met you.” My hands grasp her waist. “I don’t know if there’s a word for how I feel now.”
She kisses me—quick at first, just a brush of her lips against mine—but I don’t let her go.
I sigh softly and kiss her back. The kiss develops into something deeper, and our lips move together in a slow dance. My hands tighten at her hips, pulling her flush against me. Powdered sugar still faintly lingers on her lips as I taste every ounce of her.
When she finally pulls back, her breath catches, fogging between us.
“Maybe,” she murmurs, voice low enough that it vibrates straight through me, “if you’re a good boy later, I’ll let you show me how much you like me instead.”
My heart stutters. Heat shoots through me, sharp and hot despite the cold.
“Jesus, Natalie…” I press my forehead to hers, trying to get control of my breathing. “You can’t just say stuff like that out here when I’m still trying to take this thing slow.”
She grins, wicked and soft at the same time. “I like making things hard for you.”
“Wicked little minx.” I let out a shaky laugh and kiss her again, slower this time, savoring every sound she makes and cataloguing very slight movement against me.
The snow keeps falling. The lights flicker.
She’s warm in my arms, and for the first time in years I don’t feel like I’m faking who I am. I’m what I have been since day one.
Hopelessly, helplessly, hers.
“I can be a really good boy,” I murmur against her mouth, still holding her tight. “If you let me.”