“ARE WE THERE YET?”
“I swear to God I will leave you in this airport,” Nate grumbles, slapping my ass, laughing when the noise causes an elderly couple to turn around and look at us, making my cheeks blush.
We’re currently rushing to our connecting flight at Denver, and Nate is as cheerful as ever after our early morning flight from Seattle. I wasn’t expecting to be sad leaving Seattle, but I was. I still am.
The way my mom and dad reacted to me wanting to go out for dinner, not skate, and cook for them, shows me how militant I’ve been during my previous trips. Letting go of those issues, even for the two days we were there, has done more for my well-being than any therapy session. When we left this morning, I promised I’d be back soon, and I genuinely meant it.
Yesterday I spent the entire day being a tour guide, showing Nate everything the city has to offer until our noses were frozen, and we couldn’t possibly stomach any more hot chocolate.
I’ve been living in LA too long because I could feel the drop in temperature. Nathan joked I was in for a nasty shock when we reached his house, and I’d learn what cold truly feels like. He’s promised that at least 90 percent of our time can be spent in front of the fire, so I think I’ll learn to cope with that other 10 percent.
I loved playing tour guide, and we were seriously tired by the time we got home. Watching Nathan being the charming and caring man that he is, watching my parents learn that, too, has been a dream. Not to forget, watching him stuff his six-foot-four frame in a onesie has been the highlight of my year.
This trip has been a lot of Nathan watching—which is very easy because he’s so pretty.
He spent hours last night talking about hockey with my dad, telling him all about joining Vancouver in the summer when he graduates, and Dad was understandably impressed.
“I can’t wait to watch you play. Now I’m not promising to switch teams, but you win the Stanley Cup and I might consider it,” he joked.
It was a weird mix of emotions for Nathan, I think. All he’s ever wanted was for his own Dad to pay even the slightest bit of interest in his career, and yet someone who was essentially a stranger forty-eight hours earlier is so genuinely excited for him.
Hockey aside, my mom might be in love with my boyfriend, which makes me happy but also a little scared for my dad. I offered to cook biriyani for dinner to save Mom a job, but also to show off my new cooking skills a little. She sat staring at me, teary eyed.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, a skeptical eyebrow raised.
“Nothing’s wrong, honey,” she murmured, seemingly holding back the tears. “I’m proud of you. You’re home, happy, and healthy. You have a wonderful boyfriend. I’m your mom, so I’m allowed to be emotional when I see my daughter thriving.”
She wanted to know everything, how we met, how we got together and I, uh, had to get creative with the truth. Unfortunately, it’s impossible to talk about me and Nate without also talking about Aaron.
“That little shit,” she fumed, aggressively chopping cilantro. “Wait until I see him.”
His accident and our argument weren’t the difficult part; she tutted and rolled her eyes at some bits, knowing exactly how Aaron can sometimes be. It was when I reached his fight with Henry that things became awkward.
“He said…” I paused, wondering if it was something I could stomach repeating out loud. Sighing, I reached over and took the kitchen knife off her. “He said nobody would ever be able to love me because my birth parents couldn’t.”
Her eyes widened, face rapidly paling as she gripped the kitchen counter.
“And if that wasn’t bad enough, he said you guys only want me to fill up the trophy cabinet.”
There was no emotion to my words as I said them; I used them all crying into Nate’s chest a week ago. But watching my mom’s face sink into horror made me want to weep.
“He didn’t,” she said, voice hardly above a whisper. I nodded, letting her tackle me with an oxygen stealing hug. Burying her face into my hair, she choked on her words. “How could anyone think that? How? Why? What? What the hell is wrong with him?”
“He hurts people when he’s hurting,” I explained with a sigh, detaching her with great difficulty. She took my head in her hands, kissing my forehead affectionately. “Don’t say it. You don’t need to.”
“I do need to. You are the best thing that ever happened to us, Anastasia. The absolute best. How talented you are adds to what makes you so special, but I loved you long before you put on a pair of ice skates.”
“I know.” It wasn’t a lie. Beneath the insecurity and the self-induced pressure, I know my parents love me. They didn’t jump through the hoops of the American public adoption system, hoping that they might get a sporty kid. They wanted to complete their family.
“What are you going to do about him?” she asked. The impossible question I wish I had an answer to.
Understandably, Nate wants to lock me away and refuse to let Aaron even look in my direction ever again; Sabrina isn’t far behind him with that plan. But the reality of the situation is I don’t have much choice when he’s my partner.
I was expecting to hear from him after the fight, but there’s been nothing. Sabrina told me he left for Chicago and wouldn’t be back until the new year, and I know spending the holidays with his fighting parents will only put him in a worse mood.
I’m slowly making my peace with the fact that my friendship with Aaron has taken all the strain it can handle. I can no longer be a doormat for a broken man to dump his emotional baggage when he refuses to even attempt to help himself.
Aaron is incredibly privileged and has every resource available to him. I’m desperate for him to use those resources, to be the man I know he is deep down beneath all the insecurity and the anger, but it feels like he’s constantly taking steps further away.
It hurts to admit all of this—that I’m giving up on him. Or at least that’ll be the way he sees it.
His snappy moods and his subtle attempts at control I could cope with. But the time we spent laughing at home or grinning ear to ear when we nail something on the ice isn’t enough to cancel out the bad anymore. It could never be enough when I can’t even trust him not to say vile things about me if I’m not there.
Even with all those emotions rampaging through my body, the voice in my head shouting clean break, I can’t be a pair skater without a pair. I need to start thinking about it as strictly a professional partnership.
Colleagues.
Nathan hates it, obviously, but this isn’t about him or what makes him feel comfortable. I get it, I honestly do. The way Nathan cares for me incites a weird, fuzzy feeling in my stomach—the kind I thought people made up.
He treats me with respect and with kindness, and he roots for me in every way. I’m calling him my boyfriend, for God’s sake, a word that previously sent a wave of horror through my body but now makes me feel content. We’re inseparable and we’re both happy with it like that.
But what he forgets is he’s leaving in the summer and moving to a different country, so he needs to get on board with the idea that I can handle Aaron alone.
It isn’t normal that Nate and I live together, even though we both love it. I’ve always loved living with Brin and Aaron, and I’d like to get back to the point where Aaron and I can exist in the same space, even if we’re not best friends anymore. I don’t even bring that bit up anymore because Nathan hates the idea of me moving back to Maple Tower.
Basically, if it’s about Aaron, Nathan hates it, but it’s nice of him to be so consistent. He doesn’t have the same fears as me; he doesn’t question if we only work because we’re together twenty-four seven, and if when he moves, and we have to spend time apart, we’ll last.
I hope we last. I need us to last. Going from frenemies to lovers in three months wasn’t something I ever thought would happen. But despite my best efforts, I’m so freaking in love with this man.
 |
“ARE WE THERE YET?”
Nate pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily. He doesn’t find me funny right now, but the more irritated he gets, the funnier I find it.
Am I…JJ?
Lowering his head, his nose brushes against mine gently. I can feel his warm breath on my skin, lips an inch from mine, and momentarily, I lose all function. “As soon as we’re alone,” he nods toward our driver, who’s minding his own business in the front, “I’m going to spank you for every time you’ve asked me that.”
My breath catches in my throat, somewhere between a giggle and a gasp, and he closes the gap, making me melt with a kiss. Breaking apart, he presses his forehead to mine. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Hawkins.”
Leaning back to look at me, his brown eyes lock with mine and I just know. I know I made the right choice to spend the holidays here with him. “You’re so naughty sometimes.”
“Are we nearly there, though?”
His fingers weave between mine in my lap, and he peeks out of the window. “Two minutes. That still counts, by the way.”
“I was hoping it would.”
It’s the longest two minutes of my life, but finally, we pull up to a large gate. I’m trying not to be impatient; I’m more trying not to reveal how nervous I am because I know it’s silly. It’s an empty house, how can I be nervous about an empty house?
Scratch that.
Mansion. A gigantic, snowy mansion with a massive driveway up to the front door. I don’t realize my mouth is hanging open, until Nate taps under my chin, chuckling, prompting me to close it.
“You’re seriously rich,” I whisper, not even necessarily talking to him, just processing.
I knew Nate’s family has money, but it never occurred to me it would be this much money. The car stops outside the front door that’s so big it may have been originally designed for giants.
“My dad is seriously rich.”
It’s all a bit of a blur as we get our bags, and he ushers me in. He nudges me toward the middle of the room. “Go snoop, you know you want to.”
He’s right.
“I’m scared I’m going to get lost, can you give me a tour?”
Dumping our bags by the door, he guides me through one doorway, revealing the kitchen. “This is the kitchen.”
“Well, I didn’t see the oven and think it was the bedroom.” I haven’t even finished rolling my eyes before he’s trying to grab me. Darting to the other side of the kitchen island in a fit of laughter to avoid him, he scowls and shakes his head at me.
“You’re so fucking annoying.”
“And you’re slow. You should work on that.”
The rest of my tour takes hardly any time because it’s done by me running between rooms, cackling as Nathan tries to catch me. I know he’s letting me get away, one of his steps is two of mine, but this way is more fun.
I vaguely take in the tall ceilings and natural light. Blah blah. All the things you’re supposed to comment on when you’re in a beautiful home. What I’m really thinking is these big archways are making it super easy to not get tackled to the ground.
Running up the mammoth staircase, a staircase that should be reserved for ball gown entrances, Nate sneakily guides me toward one room in particular.
Out of breath, overexcited, and ready to admit defeat, I open the door to what is—surprise, surprise—his bedroom. Stopping in the doorway, his arms wrap around me from behind, carrying me
in and throwing me on his bed.
Throwing himself down next to me, he rolls me on top of him. “What did you think of the house tour?”
“I think I need to do more cardio.”
I feel the laugh rumble in his chest beneath my body, and his hands brush the hair out of my face. “I’ve been nervous about bringing you here.”
“Why?”
“It’s nothing like your house. There aren’t pictures, the only trophies you’ll see are Sasha’s, and it’s all a bit…I dunno. Cold.”
Even as I quickly moved between rooms, it was hard not to notice how clinical everything feels. There aren’t even any Christmas decorations anywhere, for fuck’s sake.
I know his dad is an asshole, Nate’s made that perfectly clear. But knowing your son is going to be home alone and not even putting a Christmas tree up? What about Sasha, who lived here all month? What if
I’d stayed in Washington or California? He’d be in this huge, empty house alone.
A lump forms in my throat and I try to swallow it down, but it’s no use. His eyes widen, body freezing. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry,” I cry, pushing myself to a seated position. “I don’t mean to be an emotional wreck all the time, I just. Fuck. I’m just thinking about what it would have been like for you to be here alone. I’m so happy I’m here with you.”
“Me too.”
