Chapter 1
~~One week later ~~
~Riley~
"Come on, don’t do this to me. Just start!"
My fingers are numb as I clutch the car’s steering wheel, but despite my desperate pleas, the engine refuses to turn over. I drove it here from the airport yesterday, but this morning, it’s completely dead. Not even a sputter.
Taking a deep breath, I try again, turning the key slowly and deliberately as if somehow, my determination will coax it back to life. My warm breath mingles with the morning cold, fogging up the windows and slowly cutting off my view of the outside world.
The engine still doesn’t start, and I slam my palm against the dash in frustration.
“Damn it!”
I could call the rental company and request a replacement, but that’ll take too long. The clock’s ticking for my first day at my new skating club and I don’t want to be late. I’m never late.
Of course, I’d never been cheated on before last week either, so maybe I just need to get used to things being different.
Abandoning the ignition, I pull out my phone and scroll through Google until I find a local taxi company.
The cold air nips at my fingertips, making me shiver while I place the call.
A car can be at my house in fifteen minutes, they tell me, and there’s no way I’m waiting outside in this freezing weather.
Grabbing my skating bag from the passenger seat of the car, I dash back into my rental house to wait.
The weather in Edmonton, Alberta is nothing like southern California, where I lived until yesterday.
There, people will be lounging on the beach today.
Here, snow blankets the ground and it’s still pitch-black at 7:00 a.m. The biggest difference, though, is in the air, and the biting cold that gnaws at my skin in a way no California chill ever could.
Not that I mind the cold, usually. After all, I spend most of my life on the ice, but there’s a world of difference between the controlled, air-conditioned cold of the rink in California and this bitter, dry, prairie winter.
When I made a comment about how cold it was yesterday to the lady at the car rental place, she chuckled and said, “Wait until January.”
I don’t think she was joking.
As I wait for the taxi, my thoughts drift back to everything else I left behind: the life I had there with my boyfriend and my best friend.
Even if I did turn around and fly straight back there, it wouldn’t do any good.
That life is gone and I have to move forward, no matter how strange it feels to be here on my own.
The taxi arrives five minutes later than they promised, and the drive to the rink feels longer than it should.
“Icy roads this morning,” the driver says over his shoulder, his tone unbothered even as the car skids forward at a red light. “First freeze of the year so they haven’t sanded yet.”
I nod, trying to steady my nerves, but my knee bounces anxiously while I watch the minutes tick by on the dashboard clock. Each minute is a minute I could be inside, meeting my new coach and teammates and getting ready for the work ahead.
When we finally arrive, the clock reads 7:40, which is half an hour later than I wanted to be. Great.
I can’t even take a second to admire the massive, modern building in the city’s river valley, which looks more like a corporate office building than an athletic facility.
Riverbend Skating Club is written in elegant script above the automatic doors I rush through, my heart pounding faster than my legs can keep up with.
“Hi. I’m new today. Riley Walters.”
My words are breathless as I practically barrel up to the reception desk, but the woman sitting there doesn’t seem to mind. Her smile radiates warmth and kindness.
“Hi, Riley. I’m Simone. We were wondering when you were going to get here.”
I wince, my insides twisting with nerves and regret. "I know, I’m sorry. Can I go through?"
“Not just yet, we’ll need you to sign a few forms and get your security badge.”
I nod, trying to keep from grimacing as she goes through the motions of taking my photo and printing my badge. All the while, I can feel time slipping through my fingers.
I just want to get started.
I need to get started.
“This’ll get you into the training areas,” Simone explains, handing me the badge. “Scan it everywhere you see a card reader. Would you like a tour so you know where everything is?”
Honestly, I would, but I don’t have time. “Maybe later. Can you tell me where the locker rooms are?”
“Go through this door and you’ll find yourself in the lobby,” she says, pointing at the door directly across from us.
“From there, you’ll see into the rinks and training areas.
Change rooms are through the second door on the left once you cross the room.
There’s a sign above the door. Just look for… ”
Her explanation is interrupted as a man in a suit comes out of an office behind her desk, stealing her attention. “Simone, do we have that new physiotherapist’s contact information?”
I can’t wait any longer.
“Thanks,” I mumble, pressing my card against the first card reader and breathing a sigh of relief when it turns green and the door clicks open.
An airy, open space greets me, two stories tall with huge windows on either side.
Through one, I can see two rinks and the gym, while the other reveals a running track and a dance studio.
A coffee shop sits in the corner with a few circular tables, and I spot a set of bleachers overlooking one of the rinks.
Some people sit casually around the tables, no one rushing like I am.
My eyes immediately land on the “change rooms” sign that Simone mentioned, and I practically sprint towards it.
My badge opens a door leading to a long hallway and when I reach the first door on my left, I swing it wide before rushing in.
A second later, my feet come to a dead stop as all conversation in the room dies and I realize my mistake.
At least fifteen men in various states of undress stare back at me, frozen in place just as I am. Every single one of them is looking directly at me, eyes wide. Some look amused, others wary, and a blush immediately creeps up my cheeks.
Though I try to back out, my feet don’t actually move. They seem to have stopped working, just like the car engine this morning. Awkward silence hangs thick in the air, and I don’t know where to look.
“Lost?” a deep voice calls from the group, breaking the quiet.
My eyes dart to the voice’s owner, clad only in a towel, his dark hair still wet from the shower he must have just come out of, and my stomach drops like the floor just gave way beneath me.
Keaton Bentley, reigning men’s world figure skating champion and heartthrob of the skating world, stands out in any crowd, and that especially holds true when he’s mostly naked.
Keaton’s expression is a mix of amusement and disdain as he eyes me. “Are you lost?” he repeats slowly, enunciating each word like I might have trouble understanding them.
“I’ve never seen her before,” someone else pipes up, sounding genuinely confused.
“If you’re looking for an autograph, you’ll have to wait outside with all the other girls,” another man says, causing a few of them to laugh.
My face burns hot and I can barely breathe as I try to stammer out something, anything, to explain myself. “I… uh… I…”
Real smooth, Riley.
For a stupid, fleeting moment, I wish Trevor was here. He always took the lead in social situations, was always the popular one, and I was happy to just be by his side. I’m not used to the attention being on me.
But relying on Trevor isn’t an option anymore, so I have to figure this out for myself.
My gaze darts around the room, not knowing where to look until I notice a pair of blue eyes.
They’re kind, and I latch onto them, desperate for any sign of support.
The man they belong to stands, wearing only a pair of black training pants.
A few strands of red hair smatter across his chest, matching the copper-coloured curls on his head.
A vague sense of recognition registers; I’ve seen him compete before, but I can’t quite remember his name. His posture is easy, like he doesn’t mind the stares of the room, and his expression is sympathetic.
“Lay off, guys. It’s just Pip,” he says, stepping in to diffuse the tension. He heads straight towards me and pulls me into a hug against his warm, firm body. His chin rests easily on the top of my head, but as we embrace, he leans down to whisper into my ear, “Play along.”
“Pip?” Keaton repeats warily.
“Short for Pipsqueak,” the man continues, letting me go but remaining at my side. “I’ve called her that since we were kids. Isn’t that right, Pip?”
He smiles down at me, a warm twinkle in his eyes that encourages me to grab hold of the lifeline he just offered. With the attention off me, I’m finally able to speak.
“Right. I’m Riley Walters. First day here. I was looking for the women’s change room, but I guess I took a wrong turn somewhere.”
The tension in the room eases slightly, though the curiosity remains.
“The man on the door didn’t give you a clue?
” one of the other skaters teases. His smile feels friendly and I recognize him as Christian Clarke; he and his sister are one of the top ice dance teams in the country.
We attended the same camp not that long ago, though I didn’t interact with him directly.
Obligingly, the man at my side reaches back and pulls the door open to reveal the wood cut-out of a male skater in a camel position. I hadn’t even noticed it before rushing in.
I give a small, awkward laugh. “Guess not.”
My rescuer shrugs. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll show you where you need to go.”
Gratefully, I wave a quick goodbye to the rest of the room before following the man out into the hall.
“Thank you so much,” I whisper to him as soon as we’re alone. “I’m Riley.”
“I heard.” His smile and lighthearted, breezy tone help ease a little of my embarrassment. “Hudson Baker.”
Right. I recognize the name as soon as he says it. He’s competed against Trevor quite a lot over the past two years, but we’ve never spoken before. Skaters from different national teams don’t always get a chance to mingle.
“Don’t worry about those guys,” Hudson continues as he leads me further down the hall, his pace calm and steady.
“They’re harmless. Well, mostly, anyway.
You’ll find your way around soon enough.
We don’t usually have people starting in the middle of the season though.
”“Yeah. I think they made an exception for me.”
I know they did, actually, but I don’t want to think about how much my mom had to pay for Riverbend to agree to take me. When I called her and explained I couldn’t stay at my old club, she took care of it. We might not be close, but my mom has never let money stand in the way of my dreams.
When we stop in front of another door, Hudson taps lightly on the cut-out sign depicting a female skater in a Biellmann spin. “Here you go. This one’s yours. See you at the morning session.”
Without another word, he heads back down the hall, and I stutter out another “thank you” before he’s out of earshot.
He glances back over his shoulder with a grin. “No problem, Pip.”
Letting out a quick puff of a breath, I push the door open and find myself in a room almost identical to the last one, except instead of half-naked men, this one is populated by women in tight yoga pants and sports bras.
Just like before, more than a dozen curious faces turn towards me, but there’s no accusation in these ones.
I know a lot of them, and one in particular makes my heart melt in relief.
“Riley!” Hannah Morrison bounds over to hug me, delight shining in her big hazel eyes. “I was starting to get worried.”
Hannah and I met at a training camp, the same one the Clarke siblings were at, and hit it off, mostly because we were the only two not involved in any of the drama going on. Laid-back and friendly, she’s definitely a sight for sore eyes.
She turns to the others in the room, taking care of the introduction for me. “Everyone, this is Riley.”
A chorus of “hi” and “hey” and “nice to meet you” circles the room.
Victoria Ross, current pair’s national champion and part-time model, barely spares me a glance, but knowing her reputation, I wasn’t expecting anything more.
Lydia Chan, pretty and petite, gives me a tight smile that I mirror back to her.
We’ve competed against each other for years, and though we’re always polite, I don’t think we’ll ever truly be friends.
Most of the faces are familiar, even if I haven’t met them before, but there’s not enough time for me to say more than a quick hello before the women return to getting ready and Hannah leads me over to an empty locker.
Placing my bag on the floor, I take a seat on the bench in front of the lockers and pull off my winter boots. Around us, the chatter of conversation picks back up, lockers clanging as people switch their outside clothing for athletic wear.
“I wanted to get here earlier but my car wouldn’t start,” I confess. “I don’t know why.”
“Did you plug it in last night?” she asks as she sits down beside me, pulling her running shoes out of her own bag.
I blink in confusion. “Plug it in? It’s not an electric car.”
A few of the girls around us snicker, and although I’m not sure what I said wrong, I clearly missed something.
“Go easy on her, she’s from California,” Hannah says to the others before turning back to me. “When it’s cold, you have to plug your car in at night to keep the battery warm if you’re leaving it outside.”
“Oh.”
The lady at the car rental counter definitely didn’t mention that.
“You’ll get used to it,” Hannah promises, reading my embarrassment in my face and dismissing it with a wave of her hand. “I’m so glad you’re here. It’s going to be so much fun to train together!”
She leans a little closer, lowering her voice so no one else can hear.
“Between you and me, there are so many egos in here, I can barely breathe sometimes. At least you’re relatively normal.”
I think that’s a compliment? I’m going to take it as one even if it isn’t.
More than that, I hope she’s right. I hope we’ll have fun together, and I hope this was the right move, both personally and for my career.
And I really hope that after the way this day started, things will only get better.