Jagged Edges

by Denise Bower

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Jagged Edges

  Denise Bower

  Cottonwood Hills Publishing

  Published by Cottonwood Hills Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are product of the author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is coincidental.

  Jagged Edges

  Copyright © 2017 Denise Bower

  Cover Artist: Sloan J Designs

  Editor: Labyrinth Bound Edits

  The Licensed Art Material is being used for illustrative purposes only.

  All rights reserved. No part of this may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Warning: This book contains material that is intended for a mature, adult audience. It contains graphic language, explicit sexual content, and adult situations.

  First Edition

  September 2017

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Marco Avila was wearing so much cologne I couldn’t stop coughing, which wasn’t good when we were trying to execute a throw triple loop. I settled on holding my breath so I could land on my feet instead of my butt. The next guy had such sweaty palms I was scared to go into a lift for fear of ending up face-first on the ice. After we finished our routine, I had to take a quick break to wash my hands and breathe air that didn’t smell like the cologne counter at a department store.

  Matt Gregorovitch couldn’t land a double axel to save his soul. My coach gave him six attempts before telling him to get the hell off the ice. David tripped doing simple crossovers, skidding across the ice on his knees. I began to wonder if the universe was playing a cruel joke on me.

  When Roman leered at me like I was lunch and tried to grab my ass, I’d had enough. I glared at him and skated toward the boards, leaving him standing at center ice with the music blaring. With a wave of my arms, the music stopped, replaced by the gruff voice of my coach, Leo De Rossi.

  “What’s wrong, Victoria?” he asked, sounding resigned. His glasses slid down his nose, and he rubbed his temples.

  “Hey!” Roman shouted. “I don’t have all day. Could we please keep this moving so a decision can be made.”

  I narrowed my eyes and flipped him off.

  “Victoria, please,” Leo said.

  “God, you’re a bitch,” Roman said as he skated loops around me. I considered tripping him.

  “Yeah, well, your edges are nonexistent, and you need someone to beat you on the head to keep time with the music,” I snapped.

  He skated closer and sneered. “No wonder Viktor dumped your skinny ass.”

  I bit down on my lip to keep from screaming obscenities at the guy. Viktor Kozak had been my previous and only partner, both on and off the ice. We’d split up for a variety of reasons, but the main one had been because Viktor wanted to date other people. To experience life, he’d said.

  In simple terms, he had a new girlfriend. The jerk then decided he wanted the woman not only in his bed but also on the ice with him, which brought me here, to these stupid tryouts with guys who didn’t want to skate with me.

  “Get the hell away from me,” I said to Roman, who retreated to the other side of the rink with the rest of the guys.

  “Vika,” Leo said softly, using the nickname he’d given me when we first started together. “Calm down.”

  “Seriously, Leo. You cannot truly believe this is going to work.”

  “We will take a break then. I can make more calls and bring in some different skaters for you,” he said, patting my hand. “It will all fall into place.”

  “No. No more breaks and no more boys. And don’t tell me there are more guys waiting in the wings. I’ve done the research. There is no one else who’s looking for a partner, unless you’re going to search in the junior ranks, and I’m not up for that.”

  I glanced at the group of skaters gathered near the boards. They knew my story, and I knew theirs. I’d seen them on the ice with different partners, and they’d watched me with Viktor. The realization came sudden and swift; it was over. I had no desire to work with any of them.

  “I’m done, Leo,” I said softly.

  “Done?” Leo cocked his head, narrowed his eyes, and repeated the word several times.

  “I’m not doing this anymore. It’s not worth it,” I said. “I’m not going to find anyone.”

  “Vika! You cannot be serious? You belong on the ice. We have plenty of time to find a new partner for you. The Olympics are still two years away.”

  I gripped the boards and jammed my toe pick into the ice several times. “No one wants to skate with me, and I don’t want to skate with them. I’ll be twenty-four years old when the next Olympics roll around. That’s almost ancient in the world of skating. It will never be the same. Viktor made his choice, and it wasn’t me.”

  My lip wobbled, and I could feel tears burning in my eyes. I managed to swallow all my emotions when I remembered the group of guys who were still on the ice. They had moved closer and were whispering and staring at me.

  “You can go,” I shouted at them. “You don’t have to fake wanting to be here anymore.”

  I was expecting a huge cheer from them, but they left without comment, quickly scurrying off the ice. They waited until they were in the tunnel before laughter rang out as they made their way toward the locker room. I was glad to be rid of them.

  “Vika,” Leo said again.

  “Look, Leo.” I grabbed his hands, squeezing tightly. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me and have tried to do, but it’s over. There are a hundred other skaters who would love to skate for you. Hell, I know Viktor begged you to leave me. You’re the best.” I stepped off the ice, pulled on my skate guards, and headed for my dressing room, not looking back.

  I half expected Leo to chase after me, but he never came. I slammed the door, sat down on the wooden bench, and unraveled the elastic band that held my hair in a tightly coiled bun. Waves of curls cascaded down my shoulders.

  For a few seconds, I stared at my reflection in the full-length mirror hanging on the wall. I poked at the dark circles under my eyes, magnified by the dark eyeliner. I shrugged at myself and swallowed down a bucket of emotion.

  “Old and useless,” I muttered.

  I grabbed my bag and didn’t stop to change or take off my skates. I needed to be as far away from the ice as possible before I fully realized I’d just quit the only thing I knew how to do.

  Of course, driving in skates wasn’t the smartest idea, so if I wanted to leave the arena, I was going to have to put on my shoes. Through tear-filled eyes, I sat in my car, unlaced my skates, and stuffed them in my bag. I was now officially retired.

  The moment I returned to my apartment, I started to pack. I had no idea what I was doing
, but packing felt like the right thing to do. This city held nothing for me, and I had no desire to be in the same place as Viktor and his new partner. Moving here to train had been his idea. Thank god I had insisted on separate apartments. Our friends had expected us to move in together, but something made me refuse.

  Halfway through packing, I ran out of boxes and had to go out to round up more. When it came to all my medals and various other reminders of my skating career, I carefully tucked them into a plastic bin surrounded by clothing and tried not to think about what they all meant.

  Some things had memories attached to them that made me tear up. Other items made me want to smash things against the wall. But I’d put a substantial deposit on this place, and wrecking it would put my money in jeopardy.

  I kept at it until I was so exhausted I could barely keep my eyes open. When I checked the time, I gasped, wondering how I was going to get up. I suddenly realized I didn’t have to rise in the early morning hours. For the first time in eight years, I turned off my alarm.

  For several hours I hovered on the brink of sleep, and when I finally did sink into a dream, my mind and body betrayed me by automatically waking up at five thirty. Without thinking, I dragged myself out of bed to get dressed. It took me a full ten minutes to realize I had nowhere to be. Doing a short round of yoga helped calm my mind and enabled me to eventually sleep again.

  When I woke the second time, I was disoriented. Bright light was streaming in through the open curtains, almost blinding me. I was usually finished at the rink by the time the sun showed up. Naturally I thought I was late for practice, but when I checked my phone and found no frantic messages from Leo, I realized why I wasn’t at the rink. Anger blossomed in my belly, making me want to pummel Viktor for ruining my life. I curled into a ball, pulled the blankets over my head, and hid from the world.

  The days blurred together. The structure in my life had collapsed, and I had no idea how I was supposed to proceed. Did I go to college? Something I’d never even considered because I was so busy training when most kids were taking the SATs.

  Did I run home to Mom? Although that would be difficult since I had no idea where she lived. I didn’t even know what city I wanted to relocate to start a new life. I considered tacking a map to the wall and tossing a few darts.

  What did other people do when they had a life-changing decision to make? I sighed, found a notebook and a pen, and started writing down several scenarios for my new life. They all sucked.

  Against my better judgment, I grabbed my phone and called my best friend and fellow figure skater, Sawyer Jones. He’d retired two years ago when injuries plagued his career, and he now seemed to be a fully functional adult.

  “Doll,” Sawyer said into the phone. “I was wondering when I’d hear from you. You’re the feature in all the gossip columns.”

  “Must be a pretty boring news day.”

  “Do I get to say I told you so? You know I never liked Viktor.”

  “You always liked Viktor.”

  “The only thing I liked about Viktor was his banging bod.”

  “I don’t want to talk about his body right now. I need some life advice or guidance?”

  “And you came to me?”

  “You’re supposed to be my person,” I said. “Plus I’m desperate.”

  “If you wanted to ask me about what costume you should wear for your next program, how to style your hair, or even choreographing a new routine, I could probably do that, but life stuff? I suck. Look at the disaster I’m living.”

  “What happened? I thought you had it all together.”

  He cackled loudly. “I’m a great actor. How long do you have?”

  “Days, weeks, possibly months.”

  “Why don’t you come for a visit?” he asked. “I could create a part for you in the show. Maybe a lovesick bear or something.”

  “You’d do that for me?”

  “Well, I am the choreographer for this show. Or perhaps you’d consider going solo.”

  “Thanks, Soy, but I don’t think I’m cut out to be a skating bear, and I’m not performing alone. Maybe you could come out of retirement and skate with me.”

  He burst out laughing. “You’re funny. I’m not coming back to the competitive world of skating. But it would be great to see you again.”

  “Where are you?”

  “That’s the million dollar question. Today I’m in Dallas. Tomorrow we’re in Phoenix or maybe it’s Pittsburgh or Peoria? I don’t know anymore.”

  “Shoot me your calendar so I can stalk you,” I said.

  “Yeah, I can do that,” he said. “Where are you?”

  “Still in California, but I packed everything. I guess that means I’m moving.”

  “You’ll let me know when you pick a place?”

  “Obviously.” I collapsed on my bed and put the phone on speaker. “Now, tell me all your troubles.”

  He talked about breaking up with his boyfriend because the guy didn’t want to get serious. It turned out he didn’t want to get serious with Sawyer.

  “He’s engaged to some woman from Canada now.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said.

  “It’s probably for the best. He didn’t really want to be out, and I’m sort of hard to explain.”

  “You need no explanation.”

  “Thanks, doll. You know you’ll be fine without Viktor.”

  We spent a good twenty minutes thinking up rude names for our exes, and for the first time in months, I laughed deep in my belly.

  The conversation turned dark again when he talked about his meema, who was currently not doing well because her body was filled with cancer. When he hiccuped into the phone, he changed the topic and asked me what I was going to do.

  “I have no idea?” I answered honestly. “But thanks for talking to me. At least I feel a little better.”

  “You rock my world, Victoria. It’s too bad we can’t get together. I think we’d be perfect,” he said.

  “We’d light the world on fire. But I know you wouldn’t be happy with me and what I have to offer in the bedroom.”

  “Crass, baby doll, so crass.” He laughed. “We’ll talk more soon. Get your shit together so we can find the time to hang out.”

  After we said goodbye, I flipped open my computer and did some job searches. I kept returning to one in particular. Reading the qualifications made my stomach flip upside down and me question my sanity. I really didn’t fit the prototypical job applicant for this position, but I understood fitness for skating and I knew how to skate.

  I also had a potential ace in the hole. One I wasn’t sure I wanted to use, but I couldn’t sit around in an apartment filled with packed boxes and destroyed dreams. The walls were closing in on me, and it was time to make a decision and move forward.

  Over the next few days, I sold my furniture and household items. I donated boxes of my clothing and almost chucked my skates in with the goods. I needed a brand new start, and toting around things I’d shared with Viktor wasn’t in my plan. But the skates survived and I shoved them in a bag, stowing them in the trunk of my car.

  The property manager gladly took the remaining items and helped me put the few boxes I was keeping into my car. She apologized for the disaster my life had become. I didn’t know what to say to her. She had nothing to do with Viktor or anything in my life. I shrugged and climbed into my car.

  With a turn of a key and a firm step on the accelerator, I left the palm-tree-filled state of California in my rearview mirror.

  Two thousand miles and a week later, I stood outside a door located deep in the bowels of an arena, listening to someone get torn apart for being a slacker and complete waste of very expensive skin. My dad yelled something about taking the game seriously followed by a muffled response. Before I could move away from the door, a guy wearing only a skimpy towel around his waist barreled out of the room and almost knocked me off my feet.

  He skidded to a stop and stared at me, his gaze sweeping over m
y entire body. I returned the favor. The guy was crazy hot from the tips of his disheveled dark blond hair to his bright blue eyes, down to his rock-hard abs, muscled thighs, and cute, knobby knees.

  The second our eyes locked, I had one of those surreal, out-of-body experiences that were always a part of great romance movies. His stare pierced through my skin and bones, making me shiver and my heart pound in my ears. He blinked, and I watched his eyelashes fan against his cheeks. When he licked his lips, I gaped at his tongue sweeping across the plump, red flesh, leaving them shiny. I was dizzy with want, yearning to press him against the wall and steal a taste from his mouth.

  My cheeks flushed and I staggered back, banging against the wall.

  “Dammit, Cart⁠—” My dad stopped mid-word when he caught sight of me. He stared from me to the guy and back to me. “Victoria?”

  The porno movie I’d created in my head dissipated the second my dad said my name.

  “Excuse me.” I managed to spit out at the guy.

  “Fuck off,” he growled and pushed past me.

  Before I could say anything else, the guy punched the wall, then raced down the hall, swearing wildly at anyone who got in his way. So much for the magical moment.

  “I’m sorry about Carter. He can be a handful,” my dad said.

  “A handful of what?” I asked dreamily before I could monitor my mouth.

  He frowned and shook his head. “What are you doing here?”

  I managed to banish the image of Carter so I could focus on my dad.

  “Hi to you too, Dad, You seem to be in good spirits. I know shouting at people always means you’re having a great day.”

  He grimaced and wrinkled his nose, which drew my gaze to the deepened creases around his dark eyes. I always thought he would be the guy who would have Botox injections or something done to smooth away any signs of age. When my parents divorced, he ran around with several younger women. But maybe it was to prove to my mother he was still a fine catch.