Chapter 1
Ginny
Each and every timeI step on the ice, I wonder why I’m here. Why did I leave the three most amazing men to be here, miserable, with my father and Antony?
My mind drifts back to my time at the Poconos, to happy memories with Chase, Carter, and Blake. I know they were mad when I left, and it took everything in me to not answer their calls and texts until eventually I just stopped using the phone. Turning it off broke my heart. It was my last lifeline to them. But no, I wasn’t allowed that kind of respite. Dear Old Dad insisted I have one, so to keep myself from breaking apart, I lied to him and got a new number. When Dad questioned it, I shrugged it off, claiming someone with the wrong number kept messaging me and it was getting creepy. He didn’t hesitate to go along with it, especially now that he had me here, under his ever-watchful eye.
“Again.” My father’s sharp voice cuts through the cold air as he stands stoically at the side of the rink, arms crossed over his chest. He studies mine and Antony’s movements intently.
I haven’t even been here for two weeks and all he’s done is keep us in the rink for hours, barking critique’s. I remember now why I started hating the sport I once loved. Today, though, his precious hockey team has their first practice, the boys he puts above his own daughter. It’s one reason I don’t date hockey players. It’s not their fault, they don’t even know why I resent them. It’s my own littlefuck youto my father.
But today, I’m looking at it as a blessing, a chance to have a few stolen moments to myself. It means he has less time to interfere in my life and maybe, just maybe, I can muster up the nerve to explain to him that I just want a normal life. One where I can hang out with my friends, eat all the junk food I want, maybe even have a boyfriend.
“Geneva, get your head in the game. You’re never going to make it to the Olympics if you're off in the clouds. This isn’t just your chance but Antony’s as well.” My father’s sharp, grating voice makes me cringe.
Game, really? This isn’t a game, Dad. Wrong sport. I roll my eyes but shake off my thoughts, ones that still hurt so much to linger on. It’s over, and I’ll never see them again, so I just need to accept what this is. Maybe if I give my dad what he wants, he’ll finally see me as more than just some girl he’s stuck raising because we share DNA. Maybe, just maybe, he’ll see me as his daughter.
“What’s going on with you?” Antony leans in and whispers in my ear as I move into position in front of him.
“Nothing.” It’s a lie, but I’m not about to bare my soul to him. Not when his loyalty lies entirely with my father. Antony only thinks about one person—himself. He only wants to continue skating with me for the opportunities he thinks he’ll get from it.
I lower my head, my eyes focusing on the ice as the music begins—a haunting melody that seems to echo through the empty arena and my heart. A sharp parallel to the emotionsalready running rampant inside me. We stand there motionless in the middle of the rink, our hands gently intertwined, waiting for the note that begins our routine.
Antony is a great partner when he wants to be. I can give credit where it’s due, but he’s just not the perfect partner forme. He’s tall and strong, and I’m petite and graceful—a combination that should be flawless for dance partners. Yet somehow, the connection we need to truly shine just isn’t there. We’re polar opposites, and instead of melding together as one, we counteract each other.
With the first swell of the music, we move in perfect synchronicity. Our skates carve delicate, intricate patterns into the ice as we glide effortlessly across it. We perform a series of side-by-side triple toe loops, our timing perfect as our blades strike the ice simultaneously. I don’t need to hear the applause of the crowd to know we landed it perfectly; my father’s smile from halfway across the rink tells me all I need to know.
As the tempo quickens, Antony grips my hips tightly, lifting me into the air. My arms stretch gracefully above my head, my body arching as he spins us both before tossing me forward, my blades landing smoothly on the ice.
I take a deep breath, anticipating my next move, just as I hear deep, raised voices entering the rink; my dad’s team. I’m a little shocked that he’s allowed our training to be so close to the time the team’s practice is supposed to start.
Antony takes hold of my hand as we slip into position for our death spiral. He grips my hand tightly as he bends his knee, lowering his body to the ice, and rotating. I lean back, my body nearly parallel to the ground as my fingertips brush the ice.
“Perfect,” my dad shouts. Guess that made him happy.Finally.
It’s down to this one move, our signature move: a throw triple lutz. Antony propels me high into the air, my body spinning likea snowflake in a storm, before I land with precision, my arms outstretched as I relish in my triumph at sticking the landing.
Our blades continue to weave in an intricate pattern across the rink with sharp and precise footwork. We circle one another before finally coming together for a tender embrace, ending our routine.
“It’salmostperfect.” My father boasts as we skate across the ice toward him.
“What?” I blurt, shocked at his emphasis on almost.
“He’s just saying there are some areas we need to fine-tune. We need perfect scores to make it to the Olympics. A mediocre routine with flaws isn’t going to do that, Geneva.” I roll my eyes at Antony calling me that. He knows I hate the formality of the name and he only does it because of my father.
“Hold up a second Antman, you got something on your nose.” I spit on my fingers and wipe the nonexistent shit from the brown noser’s face.
“Geneva, stop with the horseplay. I expect it from my boys, but not from you. Tomorrow, we’ll be here at five a.m. and practice until noon. Watch the footage we filmed yesterday and when I’m done here, we can go over it. Antony, son, join us for dinner tonight.” I’m surprised he doesn’t have him staying with us. Instead, he has him housed at an Airbnb. “Good job, guys. Practice is over. I’ll see you at home.”
I tense as I hear the teams’ voices grow louder. Hopefully, none of them are foolish enough to make a lewd comment at me in front of my father.
“Okay, Dad.” I’m just ready to get out of here.
I turn to leave, coming face to face with my father’s team. My mouth drops open, my eyes widen, and my heart gallops in my chest. What the fuck? There’s no way. There’s no way. It’s not possible. I rub my eyes vigorously, praying that when I’m done,it’ll just be a mirage and not my whole world crumbling at my feet.
But when I gaze back in their direction, nothing’s changed, and I move toward the three men who’ve taken up residence in my mind and heart.
“Chase, Blake, Carter. What are you doing here?” I’ve barely gotten the words out when I feel Antony’s hand slip around my waist, as if I’m his property.
