29. Chapter 29
Charlotte
We’ve moved to sitting outside on the terrace to enjoy some fresh lemonade and the most mouthwatering shrimp salad Jake made for lunch. As we watch the world go by, Bella attacks another new toy—for a small little dog, she’s extremely vicious with her toys.
We’re sitting in silence, people watching, and I realize I haven’t learned a lot about Jake. I mean, it’s my fault; it’s not like I’ve asked. Maybe if I did, it might spark something in my memories? Or ignite this crush into a full-on lust fest. Who can say right now?
Deciding it’s time for questions, I blurt out, “Why hockey? What made you decide you wanted to be a professional player?"
Seriously? That's the best you could come up with? Way to make it sound like this is an interview.
He looks at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Instead of telling you, why don’t I show you?”
Within a half hour, we’re in the car and pulling away from my house.
We drive for a while before we park up at an ice-skating rink.
I’m guessing this is where Jake must practice; I’ve been to the arena to see the guys play and this is not it.
It’s a huge facility, but the parking lot is empty. That’s weird, where is everyone?
My mind drifts back to the to-do list Jake made me write. Surely, now is not the time to learn how to skate? I’m better on my crutches, yes, but I can’t walk much unaided, let alone with razor blades strapped to my feet.
Jake grabs my wheelchair and pushes me inside. I turn to look at him, asking, “Where is everyone else? Why are there no other cars or people here?”
“Don’t worry about that. I called ahead and reserved the rink. It’s just us.” Nerves fizzle in my belly, and I bite my lip to hold in my grin—that’s so sweet of him.
Shivering at the significant temperature drop once we make it rink side, I rub my hands together, trying to warm them up. I forgot how cold it would be here and can now fully appreciate why Jake wrapped me up for winter when it's eighty degrees outside.
“Are you ready for some action?”
“Am I going to get to see you skate?” I ask, hopefully. It might bring forward a memory if I see him doing it.
My hope is deflated quickly as he says, “Nope, we’re going to skate.”
I think he’s forgetting one very major factor here. “Erm, Jake? I can’t skate because of my leg, and I actually don’t know how to skate.” Or do I? I’m not sure, but nothing springs to mind of me ever trying.
“Don’t worry, Lotts, I have a plan.”
Grabbing hold of my wheelchair, he wheels me onto the ice before lacing up his skates.
The next thing I know he’s pushing me around the rink.
Shrieking in excitement, my hair whips around my shoulders as we go round so quickly it feels like I’m on a rollercoaster, gripping onto my chair for dear life.
But I love it, and for the first time since the accident, I feel alive—I feel like I’m actually living.
“Jake? Show me your goal celebration.” I shout out to him.
We stop in the middle of the rink, and he gets his phone out to play “Heads Will Roll” by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs.
He pretends he’s skating with a hockey stick and puck, taking aim at the imaginary goal.
As he “scores” his goal, he skates fast around the rink before dropping to the ice and doing the worm.
I've seen him do this celebration before.
It was the day I moved into my beach house…
Age 22
I’m officially a college graduate, and I am moving into my own home. Bella and I are going to live in my beautiful beach house with the inheritance my grandma left me. I grasp the locket she gave me on my sixteenth birthday tightly in my hand.
The views from here are spectacular, and I can’t wait to take sunset walks on the sand.
Bella takes off sniffing around the place, looking for the perfect spot to catch some rays.
It’s in need of some modernization, but I like that, it means I can really make this house my own.
And as I work from home, I will have plenty of time to do it.
With a degree in English Literature and Art, the literary world is my oyster.
I’ve been brainstorming ideas all summer with my mom on what I could do, and we came up with Bella’s Literary Illustrations.
Basically, I’ll be designing book covers and character art as well as providing a beta reading service.
This place is perfect for running my small business with so many dreamy spaces for me to set up office.
I could sit outside on the terrace with a nice cold glass of lemonade, or I could surround myself with my books in my library, or if I’m in my lazy girl era, I could work from bed in my pjs—the sky’s the limit.
I snap a few photos of the beach and a selfie of me with Bella in our new home then send them to Jake.
Charlotte - We’re in!!
Jake - Looks just as good as when I last saw it, wish I was there to help you.
Charlotte - Focus on your game rookie!! Lol
Jake - Will you be watching?
Charlotte - Obviously
After unpacking the majority of my stuff, which isn’t much until my new furniture arrives that Jake will be putting together for me, I make do with the old sofa that was left behind and turn on the TV, ready to watch Jake’s first game as a Seal.
We watched “The First 48” virtually as he stayed at home to be closer to the arena in preparation for tonight.
It is our ritual and I hope it continues to bring him good luck.
He’s on the bench for this game, but you never know, he may get some ice time, and I don’t want to miss a minute of it.
They’re in the third period, about to go into overtime, and they are currently level 2–2 when Jake comes on.
My eyes are glued to the screen, watching him zip up and down the ice.
God, he’s fast. There are literally two minutes of this period to go when I see Jake flying toward the net.
Come on, J, you’ve got this! The next thing I know, the buzzer sounds, and that's it.
He only went and freaking scored, winning the first game of the season.
I am so happy for him, this is everything he’s ever wanted and everything I ever wanted for him. I can’t wait to watch him play live and cheer for him. Let's hope the sea of fans doesn’t put me off…
I gasp as I pull out of the memory. “Jake!!” I shout as I turn off his music.
He skates over quickly, eyes wide. “What? What’s going on? Are you ok?”
He’s huffing and puffing, trying to catch his breath.
“I remember you doing that celebration! It was your first game, and you came off the bench to score the winning goal. I had just moved into my house,” I exclaim.
This is a big memory to recover, and I’m so overwhelmed tears leak out of the corner of my eyes.
I feel Jake’s thumbs swiping gently at the tears, and then I’m being lifted into his arms and out of my chair.
My legs instinctively wrap around him as he spins me around on the ice.
I squeal out at the surprise and cling on tightly to him like a koala bear—there’s no way I’m letting him drop me.
“You remembered?” he breathes out.
I’m as shocked as him as he skates round the ice with me firmly in his hold. “Jake, you need to put me down! I’m heavy!” I say to him as we fly around the rink.
“Seriously? I lift double this on the daily, Lottie. Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall,” he says, smirking down at me.
We skate around for a while and the song changes over the speakers to “Say You Won’t Let Go” by James Arthur, and I decide to take a chance.
The hands I have wrapped around his neck move up into his hair and I run my fingers through the silky strands.
We’re looking deeply into each other's eyes, both searching for a reason not to do this when my stomach grumbles so loud Jake laughs.
Disappointment rolls through me as the moment is broken.
“Hungry by any chance?” he says over his laughter.
“I’m actually starving. I’m craving shrimp tacos big time.”
“Seriously? You’re going to look like a shrimp taco one day.”
Leaving the rink behind, Jake drives toward my house and we stop at a local Mexican restaurant. It’s the one my parents used to order from when they were in town.
Knowing I’ll never have this with them again makes my heart rate pick up, and those menacing feelings of guilt and shame wash over me once more.
My nose burns as I fight the sting of tears.
Luckily, Jake has already gone in to collect our food and doesn’t see me ugly crying again.
I quickly wipe my eyes on my hoodie and hope to god he doesn’t notice.
If he does, he doesn’t say anything as he gets back into the car.
He simply hands me the goods and we head home.
I’ve demolished my tacos in record time, and whilst Jake takes Bella out for a walk, I tidy up.
It’s slow going using at least one crutch, but I’m determined to do things on my own in case Jake does decide he’s had enough.
I keep thinking about whether he has a girlfriend or not.
He’s never mentioned anything, nor does he act like he has one, but you can never be too sure.
He must at least miss partying with his friends.
While I’m alone, I decide to fire up good old Google and type in Jake Smithson— I am not in the least bit surprised by what I see.
There are photos of Jake with a variety of different women, none of whom look anything like me.
They’re all brunettes, all beautiful—someone like me doesn’t stand a chance.
I’m glad I looked this up before I made a fool of myself later down the line.
At least I know now romance is not on the cards for me, just friendship.
Great. I need to get over this crush, stat!
Jake comes back in with Bella panting at his feet and sees my laptop is open.
“What are you working on?” he asks, coming close to me.
I quickly close the browser and try to act natural. “Nothing!” It comes out all high pitched and squeaky, so it’s obvious I’m hiding something, especially when my face flushes beet red.
“Okaaaaayyyy.” He’s looking at me like he’s trying to read my mind, and whatever he finds is either not there or he just decides to drop it. He heads toward the bathroom, calling out to me, “I’m just going to take a shower.”
I let out a deep sigh and drop my head back against the chair. Get a grip, Charlotte.