Taking the Ice
Copyright © 2015 Jennifer Comeaux
Cover Designed by Sarah Schneider
Photography by Marni Gallagher
Cover Models: Alexandria Shaughnessy and James Morgan
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.
To all the friends I’ve made in the skating world — you make being a fan of this crazy sport so much fun!
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Epilogue
More Books by Jennifer Comeaux
Excerpt from Life on the Edge
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Chapter One
December, 2013
THE ICY WIND BLEW ACROSS BOSTON COMMON, and I pulled my knit hat down farther over my frozen ears. A large crowd surrounded me, watching the skating exhibition on Frog Pond, but all the body heat in the world couldn’t warm the area. It was one of the coldest New Year’s Eves I could remember.
My boyfriend Josh moved behind me and sheltered me in his arms, blocking the stinging breeze. I smiled and looked up into his gorgeous blue eyes. Even through the combined six layers we wore, I felt his love and warmth, as I always did whenever he touched me.
“On a scale of one to ten, how happy are you we’re not skating in the show this year?” he asked.
I glanced at the shivering girl taking the ice in tights and a thin sweater. “Five hundred.”
Since we trained on Cape Cod, Josh and I had performed in the annual show the past two years. But with the national championships only one week after New Year’s in the Olympic season, our coaches had instructed us not to skate. We couldn’t take any unnecessary risks. Not in the biggest year of our career.
I felt a tap on my puffy jacket, and I turned to see a tiny girl with rosy cheeks staring wide-eyed at Josh and me.
“Hi, Courtney. Can I get a picture with you and Josh?” she asked.
“Sure,” we replied in unison and positioned ourselves on either side of the girl. We each stooped and circled our arms around her.
“Thank you so much,” her mom said as she snapped the photo.
“No problem,” I said. “Will you be at nationals next week?”
The girl nodded vigorously, and her mom hugged her shoulders. “When we heard it was going to be in Boston, we got tickets right away.”
“We’re pretty stoked, too.” Josh grinned and took my hand.
“I’ll bet. You’re going to have the whole place cheering for you to make the Olympic team.”
My stomach churned at the mention of the team, specifically the two spots for pairs. After failing to win a spot twice with my previous partner, my anxiety had been growing stronger every minute the competition neared.
I squeezed Josh’s hand to chase away the worry. “I get goose bumps just thinking about it. Everyone we know is coming and bringing ten people with them.”
The woman wished us luck, and she and her daughter scooted through the crowd, the little girl watching us the whole way. It hadn’t been the first time we’d been asked for a photo that night. As three-time national medalists and the reigning national champions, we’d been featured in a number of Olympic ads. The sponsors had gambled on us being part of the Games by putting our faces on their products. All we had to do was skate awesomely enough to make the team and prove we were worth the gamble. No biggie.
The announcer introduced the next skaters over the crackling sound system, and I cheered while Josh let out a loud whistle.
“Go Caitlin and Ernie!” I yelled for our younger training mates.
They gave us big smiles and charged toward center ice. Since Josh and I were the eldest pair at our rink — at the ripe old ages of twenty-five and twenty-six — all the other teams looked up to us, and we took our roles as leaders seriously. Supporting our friends was the only reason we were standing in the outdoor freezer and not snuggled in front of the TV.
After every lift and throw Caitlin and Ernie completed we cheered vocally as loud as we could since our gloved hands muted our applause. They had a similar look to Josh and me — petite blonde and tall, dark-haired guy — so as they skated I couldn’t help but imagine us out there on the ice. When Ernie swung Caitlin up over his head with an easy, fluid motion, my body twitched, knowing the rush of adrenaline Caitlin must have felt. I loved the sensation of flying in the lifts so much.
The music faded away, and Josh and I made sure our friends heard us loud and proud once again. As soon as they left the ice, we made our own exit and hurried under the colorfully-lit trees to the T station at the edge of the Common. We’d parked at my parents’ apartment and had taken the train to avoid the crazy holiday traffic.
“Court! Josh!”
We spun around just before we reached the entrance to the station. Our coaches, Emily and Sergei, were striding toward us with their seven-year-old twins. Quinn and Alex’s matching blue eyes were barely visible under their scarves and tight hoods.
“I thought you’d left because it was too cold for the kids,” I said.
“We didn’t want to miss Caitlin and Ernie, so we found a spot blocked from the wind,” Sergei said.
A stream of people flowed through the doors, and the six of us fought against the current to get inside. As we descended the stairs, Quinn pulled off her hood and tugged on her scarf, unleashing her golden curls.
“Mom, I’m hot.”
“We have to walk to Grandma and Grandpa’s when we get off the train, so don’t take anything off,” Em said.
Sergei looked over at Josh and me as he held on tightly to Alex. “You guys should come to the party for a little while. You know everyone in the family.”
I’d lived with Em and Sergei the past six years to save on expenses, so I’d become an honorary member of their family. I could never thank them enough for their generosity.
“I think we’re going to head home and watch all the parties on TV,” Josh said.
“Yeah, I’m beat. Our slave-driving coaches killed us today.” I cast a grin at Em. “I probably won’t even make it until midnight.”
Josh stopped walking as we landed on the Green line platform. “You have to stay up for midnight.”
“Why?”
“Because. It’s… it’s tradition.”
“We both fell asleep at ten-thirty last year.” I laughed.
He started to speak and then paused before stumbling again, “But… but next year could be really special. We’ll want to remember the moment it started.”
I gave him a curious look. We’d been dating four years, and I knew when he wasn’t telling me everything. Was he planning a special surprise? My mind went immediately to the one surprise I’d been waiting for… involving a certain important question.
“You don’t have to be at the rink un
til one tomorrow thanks to your wonderful coaches.” Em poked my arm. “So, have fun tonight and sleep in.”
“We’re staying up until midnight this year,” Alex announced proudly.
“Well, aren’t you two all grown up,” I said.
“See, even the kids will be awake. You can’t crash early,” Josh said.
“Okay, okay.” I eyed him again, trying to find a hint of what he was hiding. “You’re going to have to entertain me to keep me up.”
“I can play every fast-tempo song I know.” He smiled and danced his fingers across my shoulder as if it was a piano.
“Ooh, I like that idea.”
The D train rumbled into the station, and Josh and I shared hugs and “Happy New Year” wishes with Em, Sergei, and the twins. They continued waiting for the C train to Brookline while we squeezed into the crowded car headed for Chestnut Hill.
I hooked my elbow around one of the metal poles, and Josh gripped it high above my head. The sweet scent of his cologne surrounded me as we pressed together in the cramped space. The train lurched forward, and Josh put his free hand on my waist.
“Do you hear that?” he asked.
I listened over the squealing wheels and heard music from a nearby blaring iPod. The girl behind Josh was wearing earbuds, so I leaned into him to listen closer. The sound of Beyoncé singing “Drunk in Love” came in clearer, and I broke into a grin. Since I’d first downloaded Beyoncé’s new album, I’d been obsessed with the song. Josh and I had memorized all the lyrics of the duet, and we lip synched along every time we played it.
“I can’t do my moves here.” I tickled the exposed skin between his scarf and the back of his beanie. “I’d get thrown off the train for indecent behavior.”
Josh’s mouth curled into a delicious smile. “We can sing now, but I definitely need a rain check on the moves.”
He bent his head close to mine, and we held our own private, silent concert. Long after the song ended we reached our stop and were still humming the tune. After a quick visit with my parents, we hopped into Josh’s car and sang out loud to our favorite CDs all the way to Hyannis Port.
We pulled into the driveway of our friend Mrs. Cassar and started for the guest house where Josh lived. As we stepped onto the stone path, the back door of the large main house opened and Mrs. Cassar called out to us.
“Come inside for a minute, Dears. I have some friends who want to say hello.”
We reversed direction and walked around the heated pool, and I took off my hat and gloves just inside the kitchen. Two ladies I recognized from Mrs. Cassar’s book club sat at the table in the breakfast nook.
“Hi, Mrs. Behr, Mrs. Gallagher.” I shook their hands, and Josh followed.
“Take off your coats. Stay a while,” Mrs. Behr said.
Josh and I exchanged glances as we shed our jackets. I knew he was thinking the same thing I was — Not too long of a while.
“Have some champagne. We’re toasting early since midnight is past our bedtime.” Mrs. Gallagher reached for the bottle.
“Oh, they can’t have any,” Mrs. Cassar said.
The two ladies stared at us for an explanation, and Josh said, “The only time we drink champagne is after we win a medal at a competition. It’s become our special tradition.”
The women let out a collective, “Aww.”
“I’m going to buy you a bottle of Dom Pérignon when you medal at nationals,” Mrs. Cassar said.
“You’ve already bought us so much,” I said. “You’ve paid for all our skating expenses for four years.”
She waved her hand in dismissal. “It’s just money. What else am I going to do with it?”
“Well, if you can’t have champagne then have some pie.” Mrs. Gallagher pushed the chocolate dessert forward.
My mouth watered as I could almost taste the silky sweetness. “That looks really good, but we had cannolis in the North End before the show.”
“One slice won’t hurt,” Mrs. Behr said.
“These are elite athletes, Helen. They don’t get these hard bodies by stuffing them with sweets.” Mrs. Cassar grasped Josh’s bicep and then lifted up his sweater and T-shirt. “Look at these abs. You could build a house on them.”
Josh’s cheeks burned six degrees of pink, and I dissolved into giggles. He pointed his thumb at me.
“She’s ripped, too. Wanna see?” He grabbed the hem of my sweater.
I yelped and scooted away from him. “I’m not flashing everyone.”
“It’s just your stomach, Dear,” Mrs. Cassar said. “You walk around here in your bikini in the summer.”
“I had to show them mine,” Josh said.
I laughed harder. “This party has taken a very sketchy turn.”
“You should be proud. I’d kill to be young and not sagging everywhere.” Mrs. Cassar touched her wrinkled neck.
Everyone was watching me, so I threw up my hands. “Alright, if you insist.”
I gave them just a peek of my stomach, and they whooped and applauded. Josh and I collapsed into more laughter, and I shook my head. Life in Mrs. Cassar’s orbit was never dull.
“Are you going to keep skating for fun after you retire from competition?” Mrs. Behr asked. “You can’t let those bodies go soft.”
“We’d love to do some shows. I’m starting Boston College in the fall, so hopefully I don’t put on the freshman fifteen.” I patted my stomach. “Josh’ll be on the ice a lot more than I will.”
“He’s become a highly sought-after choreographer,” Mrs. Cassar said, sounding like a proud mom.
Josh blushed again, and I kissed his pink cheek. His irresistible shy smile made me want to do a lot more than give him a peck, but the ladies had already gotten enough of a show.
“We should probably get going.” I picked up my hat. “We have to rest our wicked abs for training tomorrow.”
“Just one more question before you go,” Mrs. Behr said. “The two of you are absolutely adorable together. So, when’s the wedding?”
Josh and I both froze in the middle of zipping our jackets. I glanced at him, and he just quietly chuckled and kept his head down. Was I supposed to answer?
“They’re a little busy with other things right now,” Mrs. Cassar said.
I gave her a thank-you smile and a goodnight hug, and Josh and I walked quietly across the backyard to the guest house. Mrs. Behr had no idea how much I’d been asking myself her question lately.
Josh hadn’t been shy about mentioning marriage until the past few months when he’d gone radio silent on the subject. We’d talked about moving to Boston together in the fall, but no further commitment had been made. Sharing an apartment would be awesome, but I wanted more. I wanted to stand at the altar and look into Josh’s eyes and say vows. I wanted to make all our promises official and be his wife. I was ready. But I was starting to wonder if he wasn’t.
“Less than two hours until midnight.” Josh broke the silence. “What song would you like to hear first?”
He went straight to his high-tech keyboard in the tiny living room, and I sat on the couch, curling my legs under me.
“Umm… how about ‘Secrets?’” I said, thinking about my secret wish for a midnight surprise.
“One Republic coming up.”
He faced the keyboard, and I angled so I had a direct view of his profile. I had yet to understand how Josh could play so many songs just from memory. It was a mind-boggling talent. He only needed a few moments to collect his thoughts before his fingers began flying over the keys.
Watching him play the piano completely enthralled me every time. He felt the music in his entire body, and the passion came to a head in his strong hands. He poured his soul into the keys in a way that was hotly beautiful.
Time became a non-entity as I lost myself in watching Josh play. When he busted out some ragtime tunes, I got up and danced the Charleston in the narrow space between the sofa and the TV. I didn’t realize it was almost midnight until Josh looked at the microwave
clock and jerked his hands back from the keyboard.
“Three minutes.” He jumped up and went to the bedroom. “I’ll be right back.”
My heart rate launched into a higher gear, and I dropped onto the sofa. Could Josh be going to get a ring? The ring? He’d been so adamant about me staying awake that he had to have a special reason. When he hadn’t proposed at Christmas, I’d thought it wasn’t happening anytime soon, but he could’ve been waiting to start the New Year with an extra bang.
Josh returned with one minute to spare, and he held a small, unmarked cardboard box, not a velvet one. My pulse slowed as disappointment sank onto my chest. I wasn’t going to say anything to Josh because I didn’t want to be that girl. The one who harped on getting engaged. Mrs. Cassar had been right anyway. We had so much going on, and I shouldn’t be worried about anything past nationals. My heart just hadn’t gotten the memo yet…
Josh flipped on the TV, and we counted down along with a million people in Times Square. As the clock hit zero, he pulled me close so the tips of our noses brushed. He set his eyes on mine and spoke onto my lips, “Happy New Year.”
We sank into a deep kiss, all softness and heat, and nothing else mattered. Not engagement rings or Olympic rings. With Josh’s lips on mine, all I thought of and felt was the overwhelming love he had for me.
We slowly broke apart, and I reconnected with his gaze. “Happy New Year.”
He combed his fingers through my long curls. “It’s going to be one we always remember.”
“Does whatever’s in the box have anything to do with that?” I asked.
He smiled. “Partly.”
He opened the box and took out a round, red figurine. It had a face on the front and gold designs painted on its sides.
“This is a Daruma from Japan,” he said.
I looked closer at the figurine, and one missing feature stood out. “Why doesn’t it have eyes?”
“I had the same question. When we were at Grand Prix Final, I was Christmas shopping and saw these, and the first thing I noticed was the blank eyes. I asked the girl in the shop, and she gave me the whole story. At the start of the New Year, you’re supposed to set a goal and paint the right eye. The Daruma then serves as a reminder to stay focused on your goal, to keep only positive thoughts. When you reach the goal, you paint the other eye and write what you achieved on the back.”
Taking the Ice (Ice Series Book 3) Page 1
