Page 24 of At the Edge with You

I’m all-around fucking confused and unsure how to handle myself.

That’s nothing new when it comes to the ice princess.

One thing I do know is that Fable is here, and she’s just as beautiful as she was when we were younger.

She has on a Belles jersey, but it isn’t my number. It’s her grandpa’s, and I know it makes me a dick for wanting to rip it off her, but I do. Especially with how her hair is in her face. She has a few pieces pulled back with little pink bow clips, and I want to muss her up. When she walked into the rink, with her jeans basically painted on her body, my mouth went dry. It’s ridiculous how hot seeing her in jeans makes me. I’ve seen this girl with bare legs, in tights, and everything else, but it’s the jeans that get me going.

I know why.

She never wore them when we were younger. Elena always made Fable wear dresses or slacks to keep up appearances. It was insane, and I know she hated it. When she’d sneak and wear jeans, the joyful look on her face would leave me grinning for days. Fable has a rebel streak that I thoroughly enjoy. She was a sight to behold, but nothing like she is now, her legs crossed, her knee bouncing as she looks down at her beer. I can tell she’s nervous around me as she continues to pick at the label of the beer I saw her get midway through the game, and I don’t like that I’m causing her stress.

We have a concession stand that serves beer, and I guess she isn’t a fan of the Michelob Ultra Bea brings. I don’t blame her; that shit tastes like piss. But that doesn’t mean I won’t drink it as Bea passes me one. I bring it to my lips just as Fable looksup to find me watching her. I should be embarrassed that I’m so openly staring at her, but I’m not.

I need to say something, so I tip my beer at her. “Ice princess.”

Her lips quirk, and I love how the nickname brings a little heat to her eyes. “Pretty boy.”

The Belles cackle, and I smirk behind my beer before taking a long pull. “Enjoy the game?” I ask, and she nods.

“I forgot how much fun these games are.”

“It was a little chippy tonight,” I agree, leaning into the table. “Those guys try to act like they’re the best, but they can’t touch us.”

She fights back a grin. “I hear the play-offs are coming up.”

I nod. “They are, and since you own the place with me, I hope you’ll come.”

I can’t identify the look on her face, but I don’t miss the way she tries to hide that smile I love.

“We’re here every Saturday, Fable,” Mom says, stealing her attention from me. I watch as she grins at my mom. “You should join us.”

Kitty pats her hand before she’s able to answer. “She is. She just doesn’t know it yet. I’m turning her into a Belle. I just gotta get her to cross-stitch.”

The horror on Fable's face makes me smirk as I look down to hide how my mouth turns up around her. If the girls catch wind, they’ll meddle, and my feelings are confusing enough. “I will come to games, but I’m not cross-stitching. Could you imagine? My house will be full of all the things I make…until I hate them and then set them on fire.”

I snort at her outburst, while everyone else looks at her in horror.

Needing to change the subject, I guess, Kitty looks at me. “Jett dear, I tried to show Fable around when we got here, but we were a bit late. Can you show her?”

I look up, a frown on my face. “She knows this place.”

“Sure,” she says, a mischievous glint to her gaze. “But she hasn’t seen the new offices or the new apartments.”

“Apartments,” Fable repeats, and once more, like magnets, our eyes meet. “There are apartments?”

“Yeah,” I say roughly, loving the green of her eyes. “Phillip built them about six years ago since we didn’t need all the space for offices. We still have four offices, but now, we also have three apartments. He wanted to have someone on property at all times, and when we have coaches come in from out of town, they have a place.”

I watch as Fable’s lips curve up. “I told him to do that.” Her voice is beyond a whisper as she looks over at Kitty. “After I worked up in New York, where one of the rinks had a place for out-of-town coaches, I suggested he do that for our rink.”

Why does her saying “our rink” cause my body to vibrate?

Kitty threads her fingers with her granddaughter’s, love in her eyes. “Even though you weren’t here, you inspired a lot, my darling.”

Her words hit me right in the gut because I hadn’t realized that to be true. I remember when Phillip would come in or get off the phone and unload ideas on me. I thought he was a genius, but I should have known it was Fable.

Her brain never stops.

Before I can help myself, I say, “I can show you around.”

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