Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 119680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
“You’re not. She’s my best friend. That’s all.”
“Rose and I talked today. She echoed the whole thing about you and Lovey being just friends, and I don’t see why you’d lie since I’m most likely moving in with Lovey in a few weeks. But she mentioned Caroline.”
BJ flinches, like her name causes him pain. “She doesn’t have anything to do with me and Lovey, or you and me.”
“I’d never heard her name before Rose mentioned it. You told me you skated together all through high school, right? That’s a pretty significant span of time.”
His knee bounces a few times. “Do we really need to talk about this?”
“Based on your reaction, yeah, we do. Why don’t you want to? Because it’s uncomfortable? Or it hurts?”
He’s quiet for a moment. “Both.”
“How do you think this morning made me feel?” I need this, I realize—something from him that shows me he has wounds too. That even people who seem like they have everything also have scars. I think this is his.
“Fair.” He nods. “Caroline was my pairs partner during high school. She was super talented, a real natural. Skating with her felt effortless.” He scratches at his beard. “We spent a lot of time together. If we weren’t at school, we were on the ice. My mom wasn’t my coach back then. That changed when Adele became my partner.” He rubs his chin. “Caroline’s family was strict. Super strict. She was only allowed out for school-related stuff and skating. I’ve always been driven when it comes to figure skating, so the more time we spent on the ice together, the better, you know?”
“It was her only escape.” He was her only escape.
“Yeah. We were together seven days a week. We talked all the time—messaged in skating code sometimes because her parents monitored her phone. She didn’t have a lot of friends because most of her free time was spent on the ice with me, so I was basically her only outlet. We were teenagers. Pairs skating can be intimate, and hormones are a thing.” His cheek tics, but his smile is sad.
I can see where this is going. “You started dating?”
He nods. “Once I got my license, I’d pick her up after school and drive her to the arena. We’d practice for hours. She was the middle out of four kids. Her sister was a cellist, and her brothers both played soccer. They were busy all the time, and her parents trusted me. We kept it a secret, though. Her parents wouldn’t have allowed it. We lost our V cards together.” He swallows, eyes on his clasped hands. “We were great together on the ice, and we were on track to qualify for the Olympic trials. But I was a senior, and she was a junior. I started applying to colleges, because it was what you do, but it made things hard. Sometimes pairs who are involved shine on the ice. Their chemistry is palpable. But we were young, and things got complicated.”
“Complicated how?” I’m aware this story has a sad ending, the kind that’s impacted how BJ handles relationships.
“We had this huge competition, and there was so much pressure coming at us from all sides. Then her parents found out what was going on, and shit hit the fan.” He pauses, his voice thick with emotion. “It was so fucking bad. They started coming to every single practice. Driving her. Picking her up. Monitoring every interaction. Then we had the competition.” He runs his hands over his knees.
“It didn’t go well?”
He shakes his head. “My mom thought maybe we should pull out, but Caroline was adamant that we compete. Neither of us was sleeping, though. We were too stressed. It was a complex routine—a lot of intricate combinations. God, we’d rehearsed it so many times. Executed it perfectly. We should’ve been fine. But she didn’t land one of the spins and snapped the tendon in her ankle.” He runs his palm down his face. “It was devastating, Winter. On so many levels. To recover from an injury like that, to get back on the ice, it was an uphill battle. She had multiple surgeries to fix the tendon and spent a lot of time in physical therapy. Her family moved away, and we lost touch. It was just too hard. There was too much guilt and blame.” His gaze lifts, and I see it—the guilt he carries, the way it haunts him. “I wish I could go back and undo the damage, but it’s already done.”
“That’s why you keep such rigid lines with Adele,” I say softly.
He nods. “She knows what happened, and she understands why I want the boundaries we have. We set those up right from the start. I couldn’t risk something like that happening again. All it caused was pain for everyone involved.”