Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Fable Winthrop was my only partner on the ice. I’d been the hockey player turned figure skater overnight, and she was the prim, proper ice princess who didn’t take my crap.
I did everything to make her smile, I worked hard to get her the gold, and I loved every moment of it. Even though her parents warned me to stay away from her, I fell desperately in love with her. Since I couldn’t have her the way I wanted, I made her my best friend, the girl who knew me better than anyone, in the hope that, after it was all over, we could choose each other.
But after winning the gold, her parents pulled us apart.
I chose the rough, fast world of hockey. She stayed in figure skating, not only winning two more golds, but carving out a name for herself as one of the best coaches in the sport.
Now, twenty years later, she’s back. And after a letter from the grave, she is the co-owner of my rink.
The rink was supposed to be mine, and now, she’s not only in my space, she’s in my head. We have to work together like we did all those years ago, but so much has changed. Not only are we older, but the past weighs heavy on both our hearts. While Fable still reminds me of the girl I remember, she’s a woman now.
And she’s still in my heart.
When the chance comes to skate with her again, I jump onto my blades faster than I could say yes. I don’t just want a second chance at skating; I want a second chance with her.
But Fable has spent years building walls around her heart, and our past continues to chase me. We were unstoppable once—two kids who could conquer the ice together. Now, I have to prove to her that we still can.
At the Edge with You is a story of second chances, redemption, and learning that, sometimes, the biggest risks aren’t taken on the ice—but in love.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER
ONE
Fable
“I just can’t do this anymore!”
I lean back in my overstuffed chair, tucking my knees underneath me as I cuddle with one of my many blankets, using it more as a shield than something to keep me warm. I feel my body tingling, which means I’m getting overwhelmed. I’m not surprised since Chad is yelling and moving my things to get to his.
I like my stuff where I put it. While it’s a mess and never in order, it’s mine, and I know where everything is. Chad, well, he’s a tornado of anger, and I worry he’ll move something. He may think I’m flinching at his words, but it’s more that I’m worried he’ll knock over one of my trinkets. He’s so mad that I’m sure, in doing so, he wouldn’t pick it up, and there is no way I can get up right now.
Nope, my blanket is keeping me safe.
I try to rub my aching feet, not to only alleviate the ache from skating all day, but also to calm my need to run and hide as my boyfriend—er, I mean ex-boyfriend—storms through my apartment to collect the many things he has here. He never “moved in,” but he’s stayed here more than he did at his mom’s. I know what you’re thinking; I’m dating a momma’s boy, but I’m not. He lives in her pool house, but my place is closer to his office. “It’s like I’m dating a robot!”
His words don’t sting. I’ve heard them time and time again in my years of dating. Some call me a robot on the fritz because I can get a bit chaotic, but then I shut down and nothing bothers me. I can disassociate like a pro. Like now. I press my lips together he gathers his books from my shelf. While I don’t think he’d steal my stuff, I keep a close eye since my books are better than his.
As I watch him, I realize that we made it longer than I thought we would, almost a whole year before he got tired of me. Everyone always does, and today is no different. I watch as he moves, his wavy blond hair brushing along his shoulders as he stuffs boxes. His brow is furrowed, and his usually light-blue eyes are dark, full of anger and annoyance.
He wants me to fight.
But I won’t.
When Chad told me he loved me, four months into our relationship, I said it back because it was expected and because I assumed one day I would. Almost a year in, I now know that’s not true, and I wish I felt bad about that. Chad is a super-successful IT guy at a Fortune 500 company here in Chicago. He is everything my parents want for me. Smart, successful, good-looking, and comes with a silver spoon hanging from his lips. “You know, sometimes it feels like you’re nothing more than an impostor.”
I shrug. Makes sense since I have impostor syndrome, and he knows this. I confided in him after my last therapy appointment. Jackfuck. I don’t give him the satisfaction of fighting back. I only watch as he moves a box toward the door. “You are tatted and pierced, but you don’t like sex? Like, come on.”
Now, I’m pissed. “My need to express myself has nothing to do with my sexuality. You knew that going in. I was honest from the top.”
“You said you thought you were asexual, not that you never liked to fuck.”
“You can’t get it up but once a month. I thought we were on the same page,” I throw back, and his eyes burn with fury. “We got along without the sex, I thought.”
His body is visibly shaking with rage as he kicks my end table that’s made of steel. He grimaces, and I fight back a smile. That’s what you get, dumbass. I don’t say that out loud. Instead, I look down at where I rub my feet and refuse to feel like shit for what he says.
I know I’m different. I know that I’m not someone anyone would ever want. Not even my parents wanted me, throwing me off to my grandma so that I didn’t get in the way of running our hometown and my mom’s need to save the forest. As a child, I was too loud, too out there, and too much to deal with, according to my well-bred parents. Even though my grandma is cut from the same cloth—old money, well-bred—she loves me. Instead of trying to change me, she nurtured who I was. She gave me skating. Showed me how to express myself with my body and how to lose myself to the ice and the music, not to my brain. Unfortunately, my parents’ words and actions have haunted me ever since I could understand them. No matter how much my grandmother loved me, I never felt like enough.