ONE
SAVANNAH
“Getoff your knees and stop showing off,” I holler.
I wobble, then go down ass-first. Flopping back on the cold ice, I sigh up at the gray sky. Then I close my eyes and give up completely.
“Just tap my shoulder when you’re done,” I tell Addie. “Hopefully I won’t have frozen over by then. If I have, it’s been fun.”
The sound of skates slicing across ice gets louder, and when I force my eyes open, I find my friend looming over me, blocking out the gloomy sky. “Stop being so dramatic.”
The gorgeous brunette smirks down at me, batting her honey brown eyes.
“I didn’t complain when you made us do that pole dancing class last week.”
I huff out a breath. On top of being annoyingly pretty, Adeline Langfield is good at everything. During her first attempt, she contorted herself until she was upside down on the pole, legs spread like a literal pinup girl.
Gliding backward with the grace of a professional figure skater, she waggles her fingers. Then she dips down and launches herself into the air, her body spinning in a way even Olympians would envy. Bitch.
With a laugh, Josie does the same. While she doesn’t nail the spinthe way Addie did, she does a little twirl that my ass would never even attempt.
The final girl to complete our quartet, Sutton, skates up to me with an ease I don’t have. “Need help?” She holds out a hand.
I clutch her wrist, but instead of accepting her help, I pull her down with me.
Giggling, my blond friend lands on top of me, then wiggles to the ice beside me.
I sit, shaking off the cold sensation creeping up my spine, and watch Josie mimic every one of Addie’s movements.
The two aren’t anywhere near the same caliber, yet Josie is a hell of a lot better than Sutton and I are. Makes sense, considering Josie’s dad is Tyler Warren, one of the best wingers the Boston Bolts has ever seen. And because the rink we’re on is located in the backyard of her childhood home. She grew up skating, so following Addie is no hard feat.
Okay, maybe it is, since Adeline Langfield is as good on skates as Tyler Warren himself. At twenty-six, she is one of the PWHL’s best female goalies. Though she’s giving up that career at the end of this season to join the Boston Bolts as their first ever female goalie coach.
Josie’s no slouch, but even she seems to be regretting her suggestion that we have our girls’ night at her parents’ place. “I think our moms were spot-on when it came to girl time. Brunch and mimosas would be so much more relaxing.”
Addie grins. “My mom and her best friends had book club nights. And wine. I assure you, our plans are better.”
Sutton spreads her legs and extends an arm, stretching to one side, then the other. “Mine had brewery nights. And jumping off the pier after a few too many drinks.”
Pretty sure I’d dampen the mood if I mentioned how my mom didn’t have any friends because she was a narcissist, so instead I say, “All of them included alcohol. We’re definitely missing out.”
Addie rolls her eyes. “Fine. How does spiked hot chocolate by the fire sound?”
My smile is automatic. “Delicious.”
Twenty minutes later, we’re curled up on the oversized couches in the Warren home. Josie’s parents and her youngerbrother are at a hockey tournament, so we have the house to ourselves for the evening. It’s one of those perfect winter homes, set deep in the woods in the suburbs of Boston, with its own little pond and huge windows that look out over the sprawling property. Tonight, every inch is covered in snow, making it a white winter’s dream.
Inside a fire burns in the oversized stone hearth, creating a cozy glow. While Josie and Addie move around the kitchen, getting snacks and drinks together, I shove my still stiff toes between the couch cushions and take in the beautiful view.
I can’t imagine being comfortable in a house of this size, but I’m the only one here who’s even slightly fazed by all the signs of wealth surrounding us. While Josie’s life was hard before being adopted by Tyler Warren and his wife, Ava, this has been her home since she was eight.
Addie’s family money puts the Warrens to shame. The Langfields are Boston royalty, owning both the city’s hockey and baseball teams, as well as a tremendous amount of property.
I’m actually interviewing her aunt tomorrow. She’s just taken over as creative director of the magazine I work for,Jolie. The owner, Catherine Bouvier, has been trying for over a decade to get her to come on board, and she’s finally done it.
Sutton’s family is wealthy as well. Despite hailing from a tiny island off the coast of Maine, Sutton’s mom istheElizabeth Sweet. America’s sweetheart turned four-time Tony Award–winning actress and now director. Sutton followed in her mother’s footsteps and is starring in her first lead on Broadway this spring.
And then there’s me, the girl from Las Vegas whose only family consists of a narcissistic mother, an absent father, and the Italians who live on the second floor of my three-story walk-up in Southie.
