Page 99 of Ice Princesses
Cecilia lets out a quiet breath beside me. “I don’t think any of us really did.”
I glance at her, beautiful and so serious.
“I moved out when I was fourteen,” she continues, eyes fixed on the ice. “Not because I wanted freedom or independence or any of the dramatic reasons teenagers argue about when they leave home. My mom’s cousin lived closer toBuenos Aires, and the rink that was forty-five minutes from her house had better ice time, better coaches. More access.”
Her mouth twists.
“I left my parents and my school and basically the entire life I knew because I thought maybe, if I worked extra hard, I could build a future out of it.” She huffs out a quiet laugh. “That’s not exactly normal either.”
Cecilia says it so plainly, without self-pity or performance. Pure truth.
“So maybenormalwas never really an option for either of us.”
She glances sideways at me, the faintest trace of amusement returning to her expression. “You don’t seem very normal now, Princess,” she says, softer.
That pulls a small, unexpected laugh out of me. “No,” I agree. “But I’m really trying.”
I turn my head back to her, and this time she’s already looking at me. Her expression is open and steady, not trying to read me or figure me out.
“There was never any space in my life for anticipation,” I continue. “And finally now, however many years after my retirement, I candream. I can anticipate and be giddy about the uncertainty of it all.” My fingers press lightly into the towel beneath me. “And even when I was winning, it didn’t feel exciting. It felt like it was the thing I had to do; tick it off my list, then move on to the next thing.”
“And now?” she asks.
I hesitate, because the answer feels too simple.
“Now I get butterflies in my belly when I sneak into my own rink at night with a pretty girl,” I reply, a quiet laughthreading through it. “Trying to steal a Zamboni. Lying on the ice with you, eating chips and drinking warm beer. Normal.”
She smiles. “That’s progress.”
“It feels like it,” I admit.
I study her face for a second, trying to capture the way she looks here, without the layer she usually keeps between herself and everything around her.
“And it feels different,” I add, quieter. “In a way I don’t think I expected.”
Her gaze drops briefly to my mouth, then back up.
“This feels like a date,” I say. “But also easy. Like it fits.”
The words come out before I can stop them. It feels too close to a love confession, to spilling everything I’ve been wanting to tell her since the day we kissed in the locker room. The way I want to scream at her that I want to keep her here.
She doesn’t answer, and for a second I feel the shift in the space between us, the risk in naming this thing we’ve both been avoiding.
“Yeah,” she says.
One word.
I let my hand move between us, my fingers brushing hers before I lace them together. I pull her down with me, and we lie there, under my name, under everything I’ve been told I’m supposed to be.
CHAPTER 34
CECILIA
“Your coffee is wrong.”
I look up from the training notes spread across the small table in the lobby and find Isabella standing in front of me with two cups in her hands, one brow lifted in obvious judgment.
“It’s coffee,” I say. I lean back in my chair, and I can’t quite stop the grin that pulls at my mouth, the one that shows up before I can remind myself that we are in a very public place and that I am supposed to be a serious person with a job and responsibilities, not someone who looks like she’s about to melt becausetheIce Princess brought her coffee.
