Chapter 27 Winnie #2
She rips off the note and takes in the adorable illustration of a hockey player and ice skater on the cover.
The book has been at the top of the bestsellers lists for two years, but because of her previously unrequited crush, hockey romances have always been on her don’t-go-there-with-a-ten-foot-pole list—and for a very good reason.
Winnie runs her fingers over the drawing, tracing the male character’s strong nose, his wide shoulders.
The depiction looks nothing like Tyler, but when she closes her eyes, he’s all she sees.
Tears start to prickle.
Where is he?
What does he think happened?
Does he hate her right now?
Will he ever trust her again?
As soon as the plane reaches cruising altitude, Winnie slips into the bathroom, doing her best to ignore the stares from the other passengers as she slinks down the center aisle in this ridiculous dress.
But even comfortable clothes aren’t enough to ease her mind.
Aching for a distraction, she watches the first ten minutes of three different movies, turning each one off with a scowl, before she reluctantly goes for the book again.
Nina may be a bitch—but she’s a bitch who knows her audience.
Winnie cracks open the spine, already feeling her heart slow to a more manageable rhythm as her eyes fixate on the opening line.
Within a page or two, she’s lost in the words.
They carry her across the Pacific, through a five-hour layover, and all the way back home.
Aside from a brief pause to desperately send Tyler about five hundred texts to explain what happened when her phone finally turns back on, Winnie welcomes the escape.
She’s not ready for the real world. Not ready to face what she knows will be three hellishly long days of waiting, hoping, and worrying.
She won’t feel right until she hears his voice, until she knows they’re okay.
So she reads, and keeps reading, perfectly content to delay the inevitable.
But she’ll be honest, there’s a second when her car pulls up outside a building lit by very familiar fluorescent lights that she thinks maybe, just maybe, she should have actually looked up at least once to double-check where they were going.
“Oh, sorry, I think you went to the wrong spot,” she tells the driver.
Honestly, she was sort of surprised to find him holding her name in the baggage claim area at the airport, but after fourteen hours of travel, she wasn’t about to turn down a free ride when he said the network sent him.
“They must have accidentally given you the address of the rink when they booked the service. I think they had both in their files. My parents’ house is actually—”
“Is this the Rusu Family Iceplex?”
“Yeah, but—”
“Then it’s not the wrong place.”
“They told you to bring me here?” Winnie frowns. “Why?”
“I don’t know why,” the driver states, his voice neither annoyed nor kind, somehow perfectly down the middle of each. “I don’t ask why. I get a location, and that’s where I go. But if you need to go somewhere else, I can call my coordinator and have them bill you the difference. Just tell me—”
“No, no,” Winnie cuts him off, offering an apologetic smile. “Don’t worry about it. This is perfect. I’ll just get out here.”
“You’re sure?”
“Of course.”
She gathers her things while he grabs her luggage from the trunk.
Chances are, her father is inside anyway.
He spends most of his time here, especially now that she and Alex have flown the coop.
And even if he’s not, the staff are like family.
Someone will be able to give her a ride home eventually.
She spent half of her life camped out on the bleachers in this place.
What’s one more night? Besides, she’s got like three chapters left in her book, so really, what else would she be doing anyway?
“Thank you!” she calls over her shoulder as a car door slams. With one hand on her suitcase and the other holding open her book, she nudges the door to the rink with her hip, not bothering to look up as she shuffles inside.
The path is so familiar she could walk it blind—which she kind of is right now, face buried in the pages.
But it’s hardly the first time that’s ever happened.
“Hey Stace,” she calls as she nears the counter. “Is my dad here?”
No response.
“Stace?” she calls again, half paying attention, eyes glued to the words.
She absentmindedly plants her elbow on the counter, slouching down to rest her cheek against her fist after she turns to the next page, perfectly content to wait.
A silly smile plays on her lips as she gobbles down a particularly fun banter-filled scene—her favorite kind.
“For fuck’s sake, Win, put the book down!”
“Alex?”
She looks up, surprised by the sound of her brother’s voice.
But he’s instantly forgotten as she finally spares a moment to actually look at the rink.
Beyond the front desk, everything is completely dark.
And it’s quiet—eerily quiet. It’s only 11 a.m. so this place should be brimming with activity.
There should be players on the ice, families in the stands, younger siblings running around.
Scraping blades and snapping sticks should fill the air—yelling, laughing, conversation. But it’s still. Vacant.
A bead of dread trickles down her spine.
“What’s going on?” she calls out, searching the shadows for her brother. “Is Dad okay? Did something happen?”
“I’m fine,” comes a gruff response.
“Where the hell are you guys?” She steps forward, furrowing her brows. “Why are you hiding in the dark? This isn’t funny!”
“It’s not supposed to be funny.” She instantly recognizes the sarcastic drawl belonging to her best friend. “It’s supposed to be romantic!”
“Sam!?” What the hell is going on?
“I told you guys we should have gone to the arboretum,” Alex chimes in.
“Five Sixty would have been lovely, too,” her mother comments. “You can see the whole city from up there. Your father took me once and it was so beautiful.”
“What’s wrong with here?” her father defends. “Our rink is perfect.”
“Yeah, Dad, we know,” Alex says, then drops his voice in an impersonation of their father. “All our best memories are here.”
“They are!”
“Of course, dear.”
“I don’t know, I’m with Ty and your dad. This is exactly what Winnie will want.”
At the mention of his name, she straightens. “Ty?”
“Oh shit,” Sam mutters. “My bad!”
“Would you all just shut the hell up and give her one minute to find the fucking note?”
Winnie turns toward the sound of his voice, peering through the darkness, but she can’t see anything.
Her heart thrums with his nearness. All her confusion and fear and hurt folds in on itself, turning to one burning feeling instead—anticipation.
Butterflies swarm across her chest as she eagerly looks around the front desk for the aforementioned note.
She doesn’t know how she missed it. Well…
she does. Books have always had a way of making the real world disappear, but now that she’s thoroughly back in her own body, the massive bouquet of pink roses and blush peonies mixed with sage foliage and soft baby’s breath immediately snags her attention.
Leaning against the glass vase sits a white envelope with a single word written in block letters across the front—Winnie.
She lunges for it and tears the seal open.
Dear Winnie, she starts reading. I’m all out of quotes and I’m—
“Out loud!” Nina’s voice ricochets through the silence.
Winnie snorts and rolls her eyes. Part of her was hoping Ty somehow broke free of production, but no such luck.
She doesn’t care though.
Her heart is too light, too full of excitement to bother with anything else.
“Dear Winnie,” she starts again. “I’m all out of quotes and I’m writing this at forty thousand feet, so bear with me.
Even in first class, the tray table is freaking minuscule.
And yes, I did pay for the upgrade. You can make fun of me for that later.
Maybe I am getting a bit too used to having money, but fuck it.
I earned it. And this is as good a use as any.
Actually, I can’t think of a better use of my money than this surprise for you.
And you will be surprised. Hopefully in a good way, but you might be a little pissed too.
That’s okay. You’re pretty cute when you’re pissed.
Anyway, enough of me being a rambling asshole.
Back to the point. This is why I’ve been stealing from Shakespeare.
Words aren’t really my thing. So I’ll keep it simple.
I love you. Always have. Always will. And I’m ready for the whole world to know it.
If you are too, grab the bouquet and head to the locker room for step two. Ty.”
She glances back to the vase, noticing for the first time that the stems are wrapped in a silk ribbon, held together by a row of pearl pins with a golden locket hanging near the top—her mother’s.
She doesn’t need to open it to know what’s inside.
She’s seen it a thousand times before. All she needs to do is close her eyes to envision the photograph of her parents on their wedding day and the words engraved in the metal.
Te voi iubi pentru totdeauna. I will love you forever.
Winnie pulls the bouquet free, a sudden knot forming at the back of her throat as her stomach dips.
Her thoughts whirl. The peanut gallery, she can’t help but notice, has gone utterly silent.
A bright light flickers to life, illuminating the entrance to the locker rooms. She swallows and makes her way down the hallway, pausing for just an instant, trying not to get ahead of herself, as the door swings open.
Her gaze goes right to his old locker.
A white silk robe hangs in the place where a jersey used to be, another white envelope taped to the hanger.
She rips it open.