They share more than a past

Wounded, weary and wiser, ex-marine Kyle Northrup had planned to stay far away from Wallis Point. But after his stepfather’s passing, he must return home and claim his unexpected inheritance: the ice rink he grew up on. Except he has to share ownership with Jessica Hughes, the hometown girl who got away and whose figure skating career he ended. He’d hoped the rink would save him once more, as it had when he was a grief-stricken youth, but working with Jessica will be hard. Especially since his teenage infatuation is now full-blown adult attraction. And the last thing he wants to do is hurt Jessica again.

“What are you hiding, Kyle?”

When he didn’t answer, she walked around him to the back corner of the room.

Leaning against the wall was the missing poster of her, performing on the ice in her skating costume from the World Junior Championship.

“Why...?” she asked him.

“Why didn’t I throw it out?” he filled in the blanks dully.

Jessica nodded. “Yes. I asked you to.”

He shrugged. “It’s a good picture. Maybe I wanted to decorate my locker room with it.”

“I don’t get it, Kyle. It’s an embarrassing picture. I was a stupid girl who did everything wrong back then—”

“Like hell you did.” He uncrossed his arms and ran a hand through his hair. He wasn’t looking at her. “I had a crush on you.” In a lower voice, he added, “Maybe I still do.”

She clutched her throat. “You do?”

“You think that kiss was by accident?” he shot at her.

She focused on his chest. His beautiful, muscular chest that she’d laid her cheek against less than a day ago. A small noise came from her throat. She didn’t want it to be so, but that kiss had been a nicer kiss than the one her boyfriend—fiancé—had given her after he’d proposed to her. Her cheeks flamed.

Dear Reader,

Welcome to a new Wallis Point, New Hampshire, story, set in the fictional seaside town first described in The Long Way Home.

I’ve poured my love of the community of ice-skaters and ice-skating rinks into this story, as well as my deep respect for servicemen and women, particularly wounded veterans.

Kyle Northrup is a war-injured marine veteran with a secret that he’s keeping. Jessica Hughes is a physical therapist who’d rather not think about her figure-skating past. When Kyle is summoned home for a reading of a will, he doesn’t count on facing the former teen crush whose life he’d forever changed.

Now the two must work together to bring a dilapidated community ice rink back to life. They never expect to reconnect—and fall in love. But will their secrets ruin everything?

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy Kyle and Jessica’s story.

All the best,

Cathryn Parry

The Secret Between Them

Cathryn Parry

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CATHRYN PARRY is the author of seven contemporary romance novels. Her books have received such honors as a Booksellers’ Best Award, a CataRomance Reviewers’ Choice Award and several readers’ choice award nominations. Cathryn is also an adult figure skater and longtime fan of the sport. She lives in Massachusetts with her husband and her neighbor’s cat, Otis. Please see her website at www.cathrynparry.com for information about upcoming releases or to sign up for her reader newsletter.

To my readers.

I’m appreciative every day for your

support and goodwill. Thank you!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

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

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

FROM THE MOMENT he’d left home, Kyle Northrup had fantasized about returning, triumphant, to Wallis Point.

Until that fantasy died two years ago on April 19. The day the Humvee he’d been driving had run over a roadside bomb in Afghanistan. After that, Kyle decided he would never go home again.

He thought nothing more about his discarded fantasy, until a call came in from a Wallis Point, New Hampshire, exchange.

Kyle gripped his phone in sweaty palms. He sat behind the desk at his new civilian job, staring at Navy procurement reports on a computer screen. The order-analyst position depressed him—he was more cut out for physical work, but that seemed off the table now that he was a wounded military veteran.

He listened as a lawyer back in his hometown spoke in hesitating, halting sentences.

“...Kyle, I’m calling about your stepfather,” Natalie Kimball said. “I’m his attorney.”

Kyle couldn’t picture the face behind her name. A former classmate of his, she’d said, but he’d been gone from town too long to remember. “Yes, ma’am.”

Natalie cleared her throat and continued. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but Joe passed away this afternoon. He wasn’t in pain. All his funeral arrangements were completed, so there is nothing you need to do in that respect—”

“Wait, what? Joe is dead?” Kyle asked, struggling to catch up, reflexively gripping the edge of his desk.

How long had it been since he’d talked to his stepfather? Ten months? A year?

It’s February now. I didn’t talk to him at Christmas. It was the Christmas before that. He was irritated with me, as always.

“Joe had elective heart surgery just this morning,” she answered. “He never came out of it. Kyle, I’m sorry.”

Kyle pressed his lips together. He didn’t know how he felt, or even what to say. Maybe he was in shock. He just knew that he wouldn’t show any weakness about it, not to anyone.

“The funeral is on Saturday at ten o’clock at the Rogers Funeral Home,” the lawyer continued. “I’m sure he’d want you to attend. He asked me to call you when the time came.”

Kyle slowly exhaled. “I’ll be there,” he said quietly.

“Joe...had a will, which he named me as executor for. Could you stay in Wallis Point and meet with me about it on Monday?”

His heart feeling as if it was beating through his chest, Kyle sat up straighter. A will meant that Joe had left him something. There was only one thing Kyle had ever wanted, and Joe knew exactly what that was. Kyle was grateful he’d never told Joe he’d been injured because otherwise, knowing Joe, Kyle would have had no chance of getting what he’d hoped for.

What he’d always hoped for.

“I’ll be there,” Kyle said tersely. “I’ll be there on Monday.”

There was a pause. “Kyle, I really am sorry.”

He stayed silent. He wasn’t about to tell the lawyer this, but even before the final fight that had sent Kyle packing from Wallis Point for good, he and Joe had never really gotten along. Not since Kyle’s mother died.

That day had hit them both hard.

“Well,” the lawyer—Natalie—said, a forced cheeriness in her voice, “I’ll look for you at the funeral. If you’d like to come early, my husband is a Navy vet. His name is Bruce Cole. I think that you two could talk—”

“I’m fine,” Kyle interrupted. He knew what she was attempting to do, but Kyle didn’t need to “talk” to anyone about anything. He’d adjusted just fine to civilian life. “I’ll see you on Saturday.”

“Great. I also have a letter that Joe left for you. You were his only relative. He said that you’re in the Marines—”

“I’m a veteran. Honorably discharged.”

“Thank you for your service,” she said.

Kyle felt his lips pressing together again. “You’re welcome.” Then, because he couldn’t stand the awkwardness any longer, he asked, “What’s Joe doing with the hockey rink?”

“I’m glad you asked,” Natalie said in her gentle voice. She seemed excited. “Do you have an interest in it?”

Did he? Hell, yeah. Shakily, he pushed himself out of his chair. Joe barring him from the rink had been the last straw—the big blowup that had led Kyle to leave town. His main hope for returning to Wallis Point had been to reclaim his rightful position and run that hockey rink as he’d been brought up to do. As he’d earned. Of course, the one bad decision Kyle had made, the winter of his senior year, had ended the original promise from Joe.

But now was a fresh chance...

Kyle thought of his prosthetic left foot. Did he dare attempt it?

I have to. I can’t sit in this office and stare at this computer screen every day. This is not what I’m meant to do.

“Yes. Yes, I absolutely have an interest,” he said firmly. He swallowed. “How soon until I can take it over?”

Natalie laughed. “Excellent—I’m relieved to hear you speak so enthusiastically. From a strictly personal perspective, Bruce and I are glad you’re interested in keeping the facility open. But we’ll talk more about it on Monday, of course.”

Real hope filled him, for the first time in a long time. He needed this competency. Needed to be good at something again.

“That’s great,” he said softly. And oh, man, what he would do with the place. First thing, he’d track down some other wounded soldiers he knew. Some of them must have dispersed into Maine and New Hampshire. Maybe they could set up a wounded warrior hockey league. A similar program had been the main thing that had gotten him through the two years of rehab in Maryland after he’d been flown back from Germany—

“Kyle,” Natalie said, interrupting his thoughts. “Jessica Hughes is invited to the will reading as well. Do you know her?”

Kyle couldn’t speak. Slowly he sank back into his chair.

“She didn’t go to high school with us,” Natalie said. “She was home-schooled while she trained in figure skating at Joe’s rink. Jessa Hughes, she was known as then.”

Kyle wiped his hand over his face, trying to regain his composure. “Jessa is back in town?” he asked, as steadily as he could.

“Yes, but she goes by Jessica now.”

Didn’t matter what she called herself, she would always be the famous Jessa that everybody loved. The sweetheart of Wallis Point.

The great ache of his teenage years.

Kyle exhaled and stared at the ceiling. The last time he’d seen her, he’d inadvertently hurt her. Physically, but not emotionally—on the contrary, she’d had no problem breaking off all contact with him. And Joe’s decision to bar Kyle from the rink had been based on that one stupid mistake that he’d always regretted.

In retrospect, Jessa—Jessica—was also a big part of the reason he’d left Wallis Point after high school to impulsively join the Marines.

“Joe left her something, too?” Kyle asked. If Joe had, it would’ve been to rub it in Kyle’s face. That was the only reason he could think of.

“She’s...my next call,” Natalie said. “Jessica works as a physical therapist at a clinic in town. Joe mentioned that she helped him after he went through knee surgery last year and needed rehabilitation.”

Kyle caught himself shaking his head. There was so much irony in that job choice, both for her and for him.

Don’t dwell on her. She has no use for you. Never really has.

“So, I’ll see you Saturday, then?” Natalie asked.

In practical matters, Kyle didn’t care what money or other physical property Joe had willed to Jessica. She could have everything else Joe owned and be welcome to it. All that Kyle cared about was getting his rink...and avoiding speaking to her at all.

He stared at his foot again. Physical therapist, huh? No way would he be telling Jessa—Jessica—about his physical problems.

“I’ll be there,” he said.

* * *

THREE DAYS LATER, Kyle was back in New Hampshire. Friday night, in the dark and cold.

He was glad he’d practiced walking with his prosthetic leg so many times in the rehab center that it had become second nature to him. Because in mid-February, the sidewalk in Wallis Point was mounded on either side with snow and ice. The wind from the crashing ocean at high tide body slammed him and threatened to knock him off kilter.

He’d forgotten his gloves, so he kept his fists balled inside his coat pockets. Hunched his shoulders in the thick navy wool coat.

His boot slipped, and for a moment fear gripped him, but he stayed upright. Trained his gaze on the dark sidewalk, gritty from rock salt and sprinkled dirt.

He was a tough New Englander born and bred. He could handle a bit of snow.

With renewed determination, he headed back toward the one establishment open on the boardwalk. The Grand Beachfront Hotel, where he’d just finished checking in.

Kyle had always liked the place. Had even worked a second job washing dishes at the hotel one summer, when he’d been sixteen and saving money for hockey camp.

The turn-of-the-century hotel had been so busy and popular that an army of teen workers had been employed as valet-parking attendants, bellboys and lobby help. That was during the high season from Memorial Day to Labor Day. Now, in February, the arcades on the boardwalk were closed, the fried dough stands shuttered. In the dead of winter it was usually a ghost town.

Not tonight, though. The hotel lobby had even been fairly busy. Kyle had left his truck idling out front while he’d checked in with his single suitcase. But when he’d gone back outside to park his truck, he’d discovered that the hotel parking lot was full and valet parking closed for the season. He’d been forced to squeeze his truck into a spot on the street about six blocks away.

Maybe Wallis Point had become more popular since he left. As he approached the rear of the hotel beside the attached restaurant, he heard noise inside from a large crowd of patrons.

He flinched, but he didn’t know where else to go. He’d kept in touch with no one here. He’d blown out of town on a hot summer night, the week after high school graduation, and no one had come after him.

Other than Joe, Kyle had no living relatives. Nobody he knew of, anyway. Kyle’s friends...old platoon mates...they were scattered over the country. He just wasn’t big on staying in contact with people.

After he left the Marines Kyle hadn’t known what he was going to do, just that desk work wasn’t for him. He’d kill to be manager of a hockey rink, especially this one. Now, if he didn’t screw it up, he had his chance.

Trudging along, slow and careful, he made it to the hotel entrance, opened the door to the lobby and went inside. The plan was to order takeout food from the restaurant and then hide out in his room for a quiet dinner. He needed to mentally prepare for the funeral tomorrow. Get his head together. Figure out how he was going to handle public perceptions of his below-the-knee left leg amputation.

It still made Kyle sick to think about it. In the military world, with other wounded warriors, it was one thing. In the civilian world...frankly, the thought of their reactions terrified him.

Kyle had never even told Joe what had happened to him.

Swallowing, Kyle followed the familiar path past the concierge desk and down the hallway toward the restaurant. But within a hundred feet, he knew that the situation was worse than he’d realized.

The place was packed. As in waiting-for-tables packed. The crowd was so thick in front of the bar that people could barely pass through to the hostess table.

Kyle stood in the middle of it, overwhelmed. A harried waiter pushed past him, moving Kyle ever so slightly off balance. Kyle caught himself and widened his stance.

Another guy brushed past carrying one of those black plastic squares that flashed red lights and sent off an alarm when the table was ready.

Kyle moved carefully to a pillar and backed against it. This place was nuts.

And then he noticed, really noticed his surroundings... Red heart-shaped balloons at the hostess station. Pink bunting edging the doorway leading into the dining room.

It was Valentine’s Day.

Kyle groaned. Just great. The biggest date night of the year.

He stood pressed against the wall, painfully cognizant of his left foot beneath his pants leg and stiff new boot.

Everyone was coupled up.

He closed his eyes. He had not touched a woman since he’d left for his last tour in Afghanistan. He doubted he would touch one again.

Frankly, like this, he didn’t want to.

He edged away. His palms were itching. He had to get out of here. But instead of escaping, he heard the voice of the one woman he most wanted to avoid—Jessica Hughes.

He’d been thinking about her since the lawyer had mentioned her, even though Kyle hadn’t wanted to remember. But the laughter and lightness in her voice as she spoke was so uniquely hers. She was conversing with someone in the crowd nearby, hidden from view by the coatrack. Judging by her tone, she seemed happy and hopeful, though he couldn’t catch what she was saying.

He could have left right then without her seeing him, but curiosity got the better of him. Kyle edged closer.

If he hadn’t heard her first, he would never have recognized her.

She was...heavier than she’d been when he last saw her. She’d taken her coat off and was hanging it up, and he could see she was wearing leggings with a baggy tunic on top. Was she pregnant?

She lifted her hand, and he could see she had a big, pink, glittery rock on her ring finger. His heart sank.

Ridiculous, he told himself. Why shouldn’t Jessa—Jessica—be married? Or have kids? Or be happy?

She’d never been his, not really. He’d never even kissed her.

Still, his feet seemed rooted. She’d always had the most expressive brown eyes. A way of looking at people with her head tilted, as if she was really paying attention to them—really seeing them.

He’d seen between the cracks, though. God, he’d ached for her. Disgusted with himself, he shook his head.

He should leave. Make his retreat while he still could. Ultimately, he’d been the one responsible for injuring this girl—he’d flooded the ice with water when he’d been angry at Joe, and even though Kyle hadn’t personally seen it, as soon as his Zamboni had left the ice, she’d fallen, injuring her knee. He’d tried to talk to her about it afterward, but she was nowhere to be found.

She hadn’t recovered in time to compete for a slot in the Olympic Games. The incident had gotten so much media attention that she’d gone underground. Kyle never talked to her again, had never known for sure if she blamed him, but Joe had. So, he was certain, had her mother.

Damn—her mother. Kyle would probably bump into her, too, at Joe’s funeral tomorrow. It might be less painful to get an initial meeting with Jessica done and over with now.

Girding himself, he stepped toward her...

He knew the moment she sighted him. She gazed at him with confusion in her eyes, which slowly dawned into recognition.

Yeah. He no longer looked like Kyle-the-high-school-hockey-star, either.

He had a beard now, as well as a couple dozen extra pounds, which he liked to pride himself was all muscle.

He didn’t get a smile from her.

A man stood beside her, chatting with the hostess, oblivious to the fact that Kyle was staring at his date. What did Jessica see in this smooth-looking player of a guy wearing an expensive business suit and overcoat? Fancy-pants, even for a Valentine’s Day date.

Or maybe Kyle was just jealous. But he couldn’t bug out now even if he wanted to. He was itching to reach down and adjust the sleeve that covered the top of his prosthetic leg, beneath his pants, but he couldn’t. No way. Not in front of Jessica.

He walked over to her, as carefully and confidently as he could. As he approached her and her date, she placed a hand on the guy’s arm and he turned to her briefly, smiling at her before turning back to the hostess stand. Jessica gazed at the guy longingly, biting her lip before facing Kyle again.

Kyle felt slayed. From the day she’d moved to Wallis Point when he’d been fourteen years old, he’d been drawn to this girl—now woman—and he thought she had been drawn to him, too. Until she just left.

“Kyle Northrup?” she asked, squinting up at him.

He nodded at her. Once. Sharply.

She gave him a smile, but it seemed forced. Her hand stayed on her date, though he was still engaged in an earnest conversation with the hostess, and now, a server. Something about him wanting a booth in a quiet room by the window and that nothing else would do.

“You’re...in town for Joe’s funeral?” Jessica asked Kyle in a low voice.

She didn’t seem angry, just...reserved. Cautious, he nodded again. “Did the lawyer call you about the will reading?”

“Yes.” She glanced down, licking her lips and looking guilty. “It’s nothing, really. While Joe was in for a therapy session, I made the mistake of complimenting his onyx ring. He said he would leave it to me in his will. I thought he was joking.”

That onyx ring had been important to Joe. He’d never taken it off. “He didn’t joke,” Kyle said.

“I’m not...horning in on anything that’s yours,” Jessica murmured, still not looking at him. “You’re his only living relative. I’ll give it to you if you want.”

Strange, but she was the one who seemed guilty. “I don’t want it,” Kyle said, more sharply than he’d planned. But he didn’t care about the ring. He was here for the rink.

The guy she had her hand latched onto turned back to her and winked. “You ready, babe? They’re setting up a table for us.”

She smiled at him, looking relieved. “Sebastien, this is Kyle Northrup.”

Sebastien? Kyle thought. What kind of name was that? They’d never had any Sebastiens in Wallis Point.

Sebastien gave Kyle a questioning half smile, but made no move to shake his hand, and that was fine with Kyle.

“Kyle is Joe Mansell’s stepson,” Jessica explained. “He’s here for the funeral.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Sebastien said, looking genuinely concerned.

“Thanks,” Kyle conceded.

Jessica turned to Kyle, smiling harder now. This was her “on” face, her way of smoothing social niceties. He remembered that about her.

The last time he’d seen her she’d been seventeen. To the world, she always came off as poised, confident in her talent. She’d always been friendly and chatty toward other people and the media. She knew how to shine brightly, make everyone around her feel better.

But Kyle had seen beneath the cracks in her facade. So often, she’d been in closed-rink sessions—he’d see her sometimes when she left, and she rarely looked happy. He’d privately thought her mother was a viper. Pressured her just as hard as Joe had pressured him. Jessa also had her hiding spots in the old rink. The ballet room in early mornings, for one. Kyle used to come in, catch her alone when he could, bring her coffee to cheer her up...

He snapped back to reality. There’d been a long, pointedly awkward silence, and he needed to say something. But now sure wasn’t the time for an apology for ending her great career. Not with Sebastien looking on.

Kyle stared at her glittery pink engagement ring. He felt her staring at him silently. Sebastien, too.

Kyle’s gaze moved over to her stomach, beneath the baggy top. Back to her ring again.

“Congratulations,” he muttered, nodding at the ring. Then he cleared his throat.

Without looking at Jessica again, without trying to see or judge if there were still any more cracks beneath the facade or even feelings of commiseration with him, as in days of old, he turned and left. After the funeral and the will reading, he hoped he’d never see her again.

* * *

JESSICA TURNED TO SEBASTIEN. “I need to visit the ladies’ room. I’ll be right back.”

Without waiting for a response, she pushed into the bathroom before she lost it.

Kyle is back.

Feeling dizzy and off balance, she slipped off the cheap metal-and-glass ring Kyle had been staring at and tucked it inside her pocket. Kyle had always noticed things about her that others didn’t. If Sebastien had noticed the ring, he would’ve laughed. It was just a child’s gift from her client, little Benjamin Davis, in honor of Valentine’s Day.

Once inside the bathroom, shaking, she headed for the sink and a cold compress, glad she no longer wore eye makeup—hadn’t for years. She no longer did a lot of things since her skating days, but Kyle didn’t know that, either.

She put a paper towel under the faucet and ran cool water over it, then pressed it to her forehead. She should have prepared herself. It wasn’t surprising that Kyle would show up at the Grand Beachfront Hotel tonight. The tall, broad-shouldered Marine. She’d been expecting him at any time, all week long, and dreading it. It was like a churning in her gut. She had so much guilt where Kyle was concerned.

The stall door opened and Maureen Cole stepped out. “Jessica!” she said. Maureen was a real estate agent in town. She’d helped Sebastien with the paperwork for his rented beach house. Someday Jessica hoped they would use her services for a permanent home belonging to both of them.

“Hi, Maureen.” Through the mirror, Jessica gave Maureen her warmest smile. Keeping in control of her emotions was the most important thing.

“You look so beautiful,” Maureen said.

I don’t. I’m fat. Kyle had said so with his eyes. He’d stared at her stomach as if he thought she was pregnant. She wasn’t—no chance of that, though someday it would be an absolute dream to have a family of her own.

“Thanks, Maureen. You do, too.”

Maureen really did look beautiful, with her hair done up and wearing a sexy black dress. Smiling at Jessica, she turned on the faucet and began to soap up her hands.

Jessica turned back to the mirror, swallowing the lump in her throat. She’d wanted so much to look pretty tonight. She glanced at her blouse, her most beautiful garment, exquisitely constructed and embroidered. It was her favorite top and it flattered her face and coloring, but now, if she looked at herself through what she imagined as Kyle’s eyes, all she saw was a chubby, pale woman, no longer young.

The last time Kyle had seen her she’d been a figure-skating princess. Fit and thin to the point of being ethereal.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Looks were such an illusion. In reality, back then she’d been dealing with the hell of her mother’s pressure, coupled with bulimia and control issues. Nobody knew. Kyle had maybe guessed, but—no. She wouldn’t go down that road. Since she’d last seen him, Jessica had been for a long time fighting her own battles, breaking free, struggling through her recovery. Now here she was, a survivor. With a place of her own. A job of her own.

And Sebastien.

She pressed the paper towel to her eyes one last time, as if cleaning a speck from her vision. She was acutely aware of Maureen’s gaze on her. She had to regain control of herself.

Maureen turned off the faucet and reached for a paper towel. “Was that Kyle Northrup you were talking to?” she asked, seeming casual. Jessica assumed there was an agenda. She always assumed that, because it was so often true with people who approached her.

“Yes,” Jessica answered carefully.

“I didn’t recognize him at first with that beard.”

“No.” She wasn’t one for beards, herself. Sebastien was clean-shaven. Never even had scruff, and she liked it that way.

“He still has those beautiful green eyes,” Maureen mused. “I remember him from high school. He graduated in my class year. The hockey captain. Other kids gave me a hard time because of my brother Bruce and his legal troubles, but Kyle never did. He was sort of geeky, shy with girls, but I always thought he was a good guy.”

“Umm,” Jessica said noncommittally. She hadn’t gone to the public high school and wasn’t sure what Maureen was talking about. She just knew that she didn’t want to gossip, about anybody. For years she’d been the topic of gossip herself.

Maureen fished a lipstick out of her bag, still sending sideways glances at Jessica. “He got really big, didn’t he? Filled out. Kyle was in the Marines, right?”

Joined the service because of Jessica’s lie. It still made her feel queasy. For years, she’d dreaded that if something happened to him, it would be on her conscience.

“I...don’t know,” Jessica said. “Kyle and I didn’t keep in touch.”

Maureen cocked her head. Gazed through the mirror with the sort of calculating glance that Jessica, as someone who’d been well-known, had gotten used to spotting. “Do you think he’s the one who stands to inherit the old twin rinks property?”

That must be Maureen’s angle—seeing if prime beachside property will soon be on the market.

“I honestly don’t know,” Jessica replied.

Natalie Kimball, Joe’s lawyer, was also Maureen’s sister-in-law. Maureen could ask Natalie about the twin rinks if she was interested in its fate. Because Jessica was not interested at all. If she had a vote in the matter, they’d tear down the place and repurpose it. She made it a point never to drive past it these days.

“Well, we’ll have to wait and see what happens,” Maureen said, tossing her lipstick tube inside her purse. She smiled again at Jessica. “Enjoy your Valentine’s Day dinner.”

“Thanks. Happy Valentine’s Day to you, too.” Jessica had been looking forward to this dinner all week. Sebastien so often traveled. But he was her boyfriend and this was their one-year anniversary, and he was out in the dining room waiting for her.

Taking a deep breath, she tossed the wet paper towels and pushed her way out the door. The restaurant was bustling. Busiest day of the year, according to a client who waitressed here. Sebastien was leaning casually against the hostess stand, the most handsome man she’d ever seen.

He bent down and kissed her on the cheek. Then he took her hand and led her through the bar area and to a back room, much quieter, with a row of secluded, leather booths near the window. Tables were also set up throughout the space, but the voices were low murmurs, not part of their private world for two. She heard only a quiet tinkling of cutlery as other people dined, and the faint rattle of ice buckets as champagne glasses were filled and refilled.

Now was her moment. The tension in Jessica’s neck subsided. Just before Christmas, Sebastien had casually asked her what kind of engagement rings she liked. She’d thought maybe he would propose to her at Christmas, but he hadn’t. New Year’s Eve passed without a proposal, too. Valentine’s Day—their anniversary—was the most logical day...

Relaxing into the booth, she accepted a goblet of wine from Sebastien.

Over the candlelight, he lifted his glass. His eyes looked deeply into hers.

Usually, she let her gaze drift away. It was embarrassing to let people stare into her eyes for too long. Off-putting. But Sebastien seemed so insistent that this time, she didn’t look away.

“I need to ask you something,” he said.

Her heart was pounding. Would this be the moment she’d been waiting for? Her gaze flicked to the pocket of his suit jacket. No telltale bulge from a jeweler’s box.

She glanced back to his eyes, holding her breath...

“Is everything okay with you?” he asked.

“Of course!”

“You were in the bathroom a long time. I was concerned.”

“Was I? Please don’t be.”

Just then, a loud gasp went up from the table behind her. It sounded like a feminine expression of happiness.

Jessica turned in her booth. The couple behind them were hugging and kissing. The woman had teary eyes. She was glancing with pleasure at a new round solitaire with a platinum band settled around her beautifully manicured ring finger.

Jessica couldn’t lie, her first emotion was bone-deep envy. A longing for what she didn’t have, so familiar from the emptiness of her childhood. But she fixed her smile and turned back to Sebastien. “Isn’t that nice?”

Sebastien’s gaze had shuttered. He’d put down his wineglass. Whatever had been between them in those earlier moments when they’d first sat down, had somehow broken.

Sebastien picked up his menu. “Good for them,” was all he said about it.

CHAPTER TWO

JOE MANSELL’S WAKE was in Wallis Point’s sole funeral parlor, a refurbished Victorian mansion that, one hundred years ago, had been built by Wallis Point’s wealthiest citizen.

Kyle stood in the back, away from as much of the action as possible, feeling suffocated in his suit and tie. He’d wanted to cut out early, but as the only family member, he couldn’t. The funeral director had tagged him the moment he’d walked in the door and pulled him aside, giving Kyle the day’s agenda.

Evidently, Kyle had duties. Joe had planned the whole thing, and Kyle was to stay for the prayer service to speak his part.

He was in hell.

Kyle shifted onto his good leg. Maybe he had a bad attitude where Joe was concerned, but Kyle still hadn’t forgotten years of his stepfather’s verbal abuse. Joe had been like a drill sergeant. The fact that Joe had been a Vietnam veteran might have explained it, but didn’t excuse it, in Kyle’s opinion. Still, after Kyle had attended boot camp himself he’d understood Joe a little more.

Joe had always needed that sense of order and discipline. A world where the rules were clear and the consequences for breaking them were set out.

But Kyle had always thought Joe had taken it too far. He’d been rude and angry most days, and Kyle didn’t want to be angry, not like him.

He shifted his weight to his other side.

A lot of people had shown up for the service, and Kyle was taken aback by the show of love and support for the cranky old man. Then again, Joe had behaved like a good guy to mostly everybody else. He’d liked to sit in his office in the front of the rink and listen to anybody who came to him with a problem. Jessa Hughes, for one.

“He wanted to be cremated,” Kyle heard one of the mourners say. “Didn’t want people seeing him in a casket.”

Joe’s ashes were in a gold urn on a central table covered with a maroon cloth. A photo of Joe, a candid, taken at the rink about thirty years ago judging by the haircut and his youth, sat beside it. It was a good shot, and it captured what a good guy Joe could be. A lump formed in Kyle’s throat.

The funeral director, Henry, brought over Reverend Ellsworth to introduce them both.

“Joe chose two scripture readings and a song,” the reverend informed Kyle. “He asked if you would please read the Twenty-third Psalm. Are you comfortable with that?”

Kyle stiffened. He hadn’t been to church since his mom had made him when he was young. After she’d died, he’d sort of been against it. Joe had, too. Kyle was lost, and he wasn’t ever going to be found.

“Reverend Ellsworth will be giving the eulogy,” Henry said.

“Fine,” Kyle replied. “I’ll do the psalm reading.” Psalms were short, after all.

“Then we’ll be ending the service with a song that Joe chose. Are you familiar with the Byrd’s Turn! Turn! Turn! Lyrics taken almost verbatim from the Book of Ecclesiastes.”

To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven, Kyle thought.

He hadn’t known that Joe had embraced religion again. Kyle just wanted to get through this day. Honestly, he’d been through too many military funerals these past years, and each of those had been a special kind of suck, but this one...it reminded him of being a kid at his mom’s funeral. Twelve years old. Standing beside Joe. Joe had arranged that one, too. Kyle had been too devastated to be of much use. He’d thought his life had ended. In a sense, it had.

Henry led him to stand before Joe’s gold urn. Henry was a tall, polite man who was good at his funeral director job. His demeanor was calm and peaceful, so composed at dealing with bereavement. Comfortable with death.

Kyle gritted his teeth.

People that Kyle had forgotten approached him to offer their condolences. Mostly these were people from his old rink world. Guys who’d run the Zamboni, the snack bar. Lots of skaters and hockey players. They all shook Kyle’s hand.

There were a bunch of mourners Kyle didn’t recognize, too, but they looked like figure-skating people. Joe’s rink had two ice surfaces. Technically, the place was called the Wallis Point Twin Rinks. One rink had been mostly used by the local figure skating club. Periodically they hosted competitions and then they would take over both rinks. And when there were hockey tournaments they took both rinks, too. That was Kyle’s world back then. He’d wanted nothing more than to be an NHL player, but once he’d joined the Marines, it had pretty much been out of the question to pursue anything like that.

Where was Jessa—Jessica? Or her mother? Kyle had forgotten to ask about her when he’d seen Jessica yesterday.

“Hey, Kyle. It’s good to see you,” one of Joe’s former employees said to him. Johnny David was his name. “What have you been up to?”

“Marines,” Kyle said.

“Wow. You still active duty?”

Kyle shook his head. “I work for the DoD now. Department of Defense.”

“I heard you live in Florida.”

“No. Maryland.”

“You still play hockey?”

His pulse sped up. He was especially cognizant of his leg. “Yes.”

He did play hockey, in a wounded veterans league.

But that rink was an hour’s drive from his job. To run a league here, at his own ice rink, would be heaven. And he was quickly realizing that he’d never fit in here, except on the ice. And now, only on the ice with other guys who knew what it was like. What he was going through.

Johnny David prepared to ask Kyle another question, but Kyle was saved by the touch of a hand on his shoulder.

“Kyle?” A slender woman smiled at him, a pretty blonde he vaguely recognized. “I’m Natalie Kimball. We spoke on the phone.”

Natalie seemed nothing like any lawyer he’d ever pictured—she was sweet-faced, thin and slight, soft-spoken. He shook her outstretched hand and nodded at her, saying nothing.

With her other hand, she curled her hair back over her ear. Natalie wore a hearing aid.

He felt himself relaxing.

“This is my husband, Bruce Cole.”

Bruce reached over and shook Kyle’s hand, too. Bruce was older than Kyle; his face wasn’t familiar, though Kyle remembered the name—he’d been blamed for the tragedy of his best friend’s automobile death.

Kyle noticed the heavy gold ring Bruce wore. “You went to the Naval Academy?” he asked without thinking.

Bruce nodded. “I’m inactive. I work in IT now, at the Portsmouth Navy Yard.”

Kyle guessed that Bruce hadn’t seen combat. Still, Bruce was military. He understood. Kyle nodded back at him.

Get through this, Kyle thought. Just get through this. If it weren’t for the will, he probably would’ve skipped town already.

“I, ah, don’t see Jessica Hughes here,” Kyle commented to Natalie.

Natalie glanced over the crowd. “You’re right. Maybe she stopped by earlier.”

Kyle had been here since before the doors had opened. Jessica hadn’t come earlier. “Maybe she’s not feeling well.”

Natalie tilted her head at him. “Do you know something I don’t?”

“I saw her last night, I thought maybe she was pregnant.”

“Really?” Natalie looked surprised. “Did you say that to her?”

Oh, hell. Had he screwed up? “She had a ring on her finger. A guy was with her. She was wearing a baggy top and...”

“Trust me, she’s not pregnant,” said an authoritative-sounding blonde who popped her head into their three-person circle.

“That’s my sister Maureen,” Bruce said, nodding to the blonde. Kyle remembered Maureen Cole. They’d been in a lot of the same classes in high school.

“Jessica’s not married or engaged, either,” Maureen said to Kyle. “I know, because I leased a beach house to her boyfriend, and I ask about these things. If you’re interested.”

“No,” he said flatly. “I’m not interested.”

They all looked at each other. Great.

But Natalie smiled at him. “Don’t worry, Kyle. Things will be fine on Monday.”

He shook his head. He’d just made their appointed meeting at her law office that much more awkward.

“Where are you staying?” Natalie asked him, taking him aside.

“The Grand Beachfront Hotel.”

“Would you like me to give you a ride on Monday?”

“That’s okay, I have my truck.”

“You drove up from Maryland?” Natalie asked.

He stared at her. “I wanted to be ready in case there’s anything I need to move to or from the rink to take it over quicker.”

Natalie’s eyes widened. “Have you given notice on your job down in Maryland?”

“I’m hoping to do that on Monday, ma’am.”

Natalie gazed at him for a long time. Then she smiled. “That’s really good to know, Marine.”

* * *

JESSICA HAD MEANT to go to the funeral.

She’d dressed in funeral clothes: a black skirt with boots and a long dark coat. But when the street had forked and it had come to a choice between steering her little orange Volkswagen toward the funeral parlor and taking the road that led to Sebastien’s house, she’d chosen Sebastien.

She parked in his driveway, not exactly sure what she was doing. She felt knocked off-kilter about their Valentine’s Day dinner. After she’d turned around to watch the couple behind them getting engaged, it had been as if a switch had shut off in Sebastien. And for the rest of their dinner, he had been disconnected from her. Oh, he’d kept up polite conversation—he was a corporate marketing professional, after all, great with making small talk—but when he’d driven her home, he’d been quiet and pensive. And he’d begged off coming in for coffee. He had a full day on Saturday, he’d said.

So had she. The funeral, for one thing. She owed it to Joe to attend. But...this thing with Sebastien was bugging her. He was her hope for her future. Her dream, her safe place. She hoped that Joe would understand she needed to set things right with Sebastien before she paid her respects to him.

She stared at Sebastien’s black Nissan, parked in his driveway in front of her. She and Sebastien had never had a misunderstanding or a fight before. He was usually so easy and laid-back. He never asked her about her old life as Jessa Hughes and she didn’t ask him about his past, either. She’d thought that had been a great part of their relationship.

Suddenly queasy, she turned her rearview mirror toward herself. She looked terrible, pale and drawn. She pinched color into her cheeks. Found her tube of lip gloss in her purse and smeared it on.

She glanced at Sebastien’s front door. Since his car was in the driveway, he very likely was home. She was sort of hoping he’d see her out here in the cold and come outside and kiss her. Act as though everything was okay, as usual.

But it wasn’t. She was the one who would have to be brave, who had to face whatever it was that had gone wrong. She got out and knocked on his door. She didn’t even have a key.

He answered, dressed, a coffee mug in his hand. “Jess? Don’t you have a funeral to go to?”

She nodded, miserable, standing on the doorstep feeling more alone than ever. “I’d rather talk to you.”

Immediately, he opened the door. “Come in.” Instead of his normally easy smile, he wore a quizzical expression. He was in his bare feet, and she gazed down at them as she walked in.

He took her coat and draped it over a leather couch. She never got over how spectacular his rental house was. On the beach, it had views of the surf. The ceilings were high, and in the kitchen, everything was gleaming modern stainless steel and white marble and real wood. The complete opposite of her dingy little winter rental in a drafty apartment beside a gas station.

Without asking, Sebastien went into the kitchen and came back, pressing a warm mug of coffee into her hands.

“I’m...sorry about last night,” she said. “It’s pretty obvious there’s something wrong between us. It feels like there’s a big distance, and it’s scaring me.”

He sat at right angles to her on the leather loveseat, so close his knees brushed her skirt. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it, too.” He frowned into his coffee. “Honestly, Jess, I wonder if I even know you sometimes. You get so closed up tight that I have no idea what you’re thinking.”

She expelled a breath. She’d been hearing that most of her adult life. She made a small laugh. “I don’t want to be like that with...the man I hope to marry.”

Sebastien froze for a moment.

“You did make hints,” Jessica said gently, setting down the mug. “At Christmas. You asked what kind of engagement rings I preferred.”

Sebastien nodded. She couldn’t read his face exactly, but he took her hand in his.

“I don’t want to be a controlling person,” she continued, “so I didn’t push. I know better than most what it’s like to be pushed. My mother...” She paused.

“It’s pretty obvious this funeral is stirring something up in you. That’s all I wanted to know about last night.”

She removed her hand from his and smoothed her skirt. It was more than Joe’s death and Kyle’s presence that was bothering her. It was as if she’d been propelled into the past, feeling helpless and broken again.

“You never explained this Joe person to me,” Sebastien said. “And there’s a will reading? Are you inheriting something from him?”

“I don’t know.” She stood and paced, irritated with herself. “I’m sorry. I’m just...I don’t like to talk about the past or my family.” She glanced at him. “Honestly, you don’t like to talk about yours, either. And I’ve never pushed you about it. I assumed that was part of why we get along so well.”

He smiled gently. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know about them. Later.”

Okay. She couldn’t get out of this conversation. She had to go there and trust that he’d be fine with it.

“So...you know how I used to be a figure skater?” she said. “Well, I trained at the Wallis Point Twin Rinks. Did you know that?”

He grinned at her. “It’s on your Wikipedia page, Jess. Your skating career is pretty much an open book.”

She winced. She hadn’t ever thought about that, though she supposed it made sense. The big thing she’d loved about Sebastien was that he never pressed her about those days, specifically that one incident that strangers still occasionally came up to her and offered sympathy for.

“You were America’s sweetheart,” Sebastien said. “You got injured and had to pull out of your final competition just before the Olympic Games. When you cried on live television, everybody in the country cried along with you.”

Jessica sat down again. “That was a really bad time in my life, Sebastien.”

“I can imagine. It’s why I never asked you about it.” He sipped his coffee and gazed at her over the rim of his mug. “I thought you were over it. You never bring it up, so I assumed...”

She’d honestly thought the pain and guilt had dissolved, too. Until Joe had shown up in her physical therapy office and then had written her into his will. Kyle coming home had been her tipping point.

She closed her eyes, overcome with guilt so sharp it stabbed into her solar plexus. She felt dragged right back to age seventeen. Crushed. Under everyone’s thumb, panicked and alone, and handling the situation all wrong. She’d better pull herself out of that place if she hoped to salvage all that she’d so painstakingly built for herself since then.

Sebastien eyed her. “What’s wrong?”

“I...need to tell you about something that probably isn’t on my Wikipedia page.” She took a deep breath. Her hands were trembling just anticipating telling him.

Sebastien set down his coffee mug. All his attention—love and concern—on her.

That gave her the courage she needed. “People don’t know this...and I actually promised myself to never tell anyone, but...” She had to do this. Had to bring Sebastien back to her again. “I went to a lawyer shortly after my injury, when I was still seventeen, to look into being legally emancipated from my mother.” She wiped her eyes with her thumb. “You have to understand, Sebastien, my mother was my only family. She and I were...well, I was exhausted and I couldn’t please her anymore. For a lot of reasons I had to separate myself from her, and that one drastic step changed my whole life and not necessarily in the best way.”

She stared at her black skirt, hoping her Wikipedia page wasn’t specific enough to clue Sebastien into what was missing. Kyle’s role. Which would only lead to a secret she could never divulge to anyone.

Instead, she reached for the other, lesser thing that bothered her. “I think I’m kind of screwed up because I have to go back into that same law firm again on Monday. I think it’s messing with my head. That’s all,” she finished.

“Why? Why are you getting an inheritance from this rink owner? Is he your secret father or something?”

“No!” She laughed aloud, relieved. “He was a client. Like you were,” she teased. “That’s how I connected with him again after so long. He mentioned a ring he wanted to give me—an inexpensive onyx ring. Maybe he was just sentimental about the old ice rink days, but like you, I’m not.” She shivered. “Anyway, I’m considering not going to the will reading. I don’t want to go back into that law office. I know it’s silly, I know the law firm is run by the daughter and not the father anymore, but still—”

“Do you want me to take off work, go with you to see the lawyer on Monday?” Sebastien asked. “For moral support?”

“You would do that?” she asked, surprised. Sebastien’s job always came first.

“Of course.”

“I...yeah.” She smiled at him, grateful. “Please do come to the lawyer’s office.”

“Great. It’s settled.” He patted the seat beside him. “You want to hang out today?”

“I thought you had to work?”

“It can wait. I’d rather spend the day with you.”

That was a change. She felt so much better. “Thanks for not giving up on me.”

“No worries,” Sebastien said. “You know you can trust me.”

She hoped she could. She really did.

Because if she couldn’t, she didn’t have anyone else.

CHAPTER THREE

THE KIMBALL FAMILY Law Firm was in the same old brick building that Kyle remembered from his youth. Natalie’s father, Asa, had run the law firm back then. Now he was retired and spent the winters in Florida, leaving Natalie in charge.

A receptionist in heavy-framed glasses met Kyle in the lobby and offered him water or coffee while he waited. Kyle chose water. The receptionist—Zena—settled him in an empty conference room at a glossy conference table so big a person could play Ping-Pong on it. Sun from a skylight lit up the room, and several large floor plants thrived. The walls were covered with framed postcards. Wallis Point in the past.

Kyle had always wanted to be rooted, to belong somewhere, and this room gave him the feeling of history. His mom had grown up in Wallis Point, and even though there weren’t any close relatives left, it comforted him that there were people in town who remembered her. It had never sat well with him that Joe had, in effect, kicked him out of the rink and forced him to leave town as an eighteen-year-old.

He was home now.

He peeled at the label of the water bottle that Zena had given him. He opened it and took a long, refreshing swig.

Natalie came into the room. Her heels clicked on the old wood floor, which had been restored to a bright sheen. Her hair was up and she wore a high-necked blouse under a gray business jacket. He might have been intimidated by the lawyer look except for the Disney Beauty and the Beast bandage she had wrapped around her thumb.

She put a stack of folders on the table and sat at the corner beside him. “Thanks for coming in today.” She gave him a smile that helped the stiffness in his back relax a bit. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” he said politely, “m—” He choked back the word ma’am. He needed to remember this wasn’t the military.

Natalie smiled gently at him. “Joe met with me several times over the past month. I got to know him better. I remember him from skating at the twin rinks as a kid, of course, but...” Natalie tapped the folders. “Kyle, he wanted you to have this.” She opened the top folder, and Kyle felt himself holding his breath.

She slid a key across the table toward him. “This is the key to 18 Linden Lane.”

Not the key to the rink. Kyle deflated. This was something he hadn’t expected at all.

“Joe’s house,” he said. From the age of ten to almost eighteen, Kyle had lived there. He knew this key well. Somewhere, tucked away in a duffel bag in his apartment in Maryland, he had a copy.

Natalie also took a letter from the folder and handed it to him. “This is from Joe, to you.”

She’d mentioned it during her initial phone call, but Kyle had forgotten. Frowning, he placed the letter on the table, but he didn’t open it.

His hands were shaking. He didn’t know how he felt about this. “If Joe was thinking about me so much, why didn’t he call me? You found me on the internet easily enough.”

Natalie smiled sadly. “I don’t know, Kyle. I’m hoping he might have answered some of your questions in his letter. I don’t know for a fact because, of course, I didn’t read the letter—though I admit to wanting to.”

“Why did you want to?”

“Because Wallis Point is a small town. I care very much about what happens here. The rink is a community rink.”

He glanced at the Disney bandage on her thumb. “You have kids?”

Natalie nodded. “A daughter. She’s three. She’s in her princess stage. A future ice princess, she hopes.”

“So...what about the rink?” he asked, his heart beating hard. “Where are the keys for that?”

“That’s a good question.” Natalie sat up straighter, took in a breath. He got the impression she was struggling to keep the smile on her face.

“Joe did want you to run the hockey rink...”

But. There was a but there.

“There’s a stipulation,” she added.

He squeezed his palm around the thin metal house key. “What kind of stipulation?”

Before she could answer, a commotion sounded outside. Both he and Natalie turned toward the open door. Zena’s loud voice was greeting people in the lobby.

“Jessica’s here?” he asked.

“Maybe.” Natalie got up and shut the door, then sat back down, facing him.

“Isn’t she joining us for the will reading?” Kyle asked.

“All things considered, I decided it’s best I talk with you both separately.”

“Why?”

“As I said, Joe did want you to run the hockey rink. I believe it was his intention that you come home permanently and take over ownership and management of the Wallis Point Twin Rinks.”

“Yeah, that’s what I want, too. But what does that have to do with Jessica?”

There was a soft knock on the door. “Come in,” Natalie called.

Zena stuck her head in. “You’ve got a phone call you’ll want to take. Also, I’ve got Ms. Hughes and her friend settled in the small conference room.”

And her friend. Hell, that has to be Sebastien.

“Thank you,” Natalie said to Zena.

Kyle was gripping the water bottle so hard it crumpled. After Zena left, he said, “Is Jessica part of the rink deal with me?”

“Yes, she is,” Natalie said. “You see, it was Joe’s intention that you both work together to bring the rink back up to speed.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“You might want to read Joe’s letter.”

That was the last thing he wanted. If he could go beyond the grave to see Joe now, he would punch him.

“Does she know about this?” Kyle asked.

“No, not yet.”

“I doubt she’ll go for it,” Kyle said matter-of-factly. The thought calmed him. Yeah, Jessica would definitely turn this down. He doubted she’d want to run the rink with him.

He met Natalie’s gaze. “Can I make Jessica an offer and buy her out?” he asked. “It’s better that I do this on my own.”

“Technically, you can’t. At least, not yet.”

Kyle didn’t like the sounds of this. It wasn’t the lawyer’s fault that this deal was so insane—that was Joe’s doing. Likely, Natalie had no idea that Joe blamed Kyle for killing Jessica’s Olympic chances. “Give it to me straight and simple, no legal jargon, please.”

“Before you can buy her out, both of you, together, need to put forth a good faith effort into restoring and running the twin rinks profitably for six months, at which point the facility will belong to you both equally. Then you can make your own agreement as to whether to buy or sell.”

“Six months?” With Jessica? Cripes, he thought. “What if I don’t ever want to sell and she does?”

“I’ll help you through those questions when the time comes.” Natalie leaned forward and tapped her papers. “But, Kyle, that’s not the part of the will that I’m concerned about right now.”

“It gets worse?”

“First things first. You both need to agree to work together. If either of you refuses the opportunity, then the property will be sold outright and the money given to charity.”

“What the hell kind of inheritance is that?” Kyle demanded.

“I’m sorry.” Natalie sighed. “I tried to talk Joe out of it, but he said he had very strong reasons for setting up the arrangement this way. I mitigated it as best I could. I warned him about the importance of discussing it with you in advance, but his response was to write the letter that I gave you. Jessica will receive one, as well.”

Natalie stood. “Kyle, please read his letter, plus the will on the table, and I’ll be back in a few minutes. I have a quick phone call to return, and then I’ll be back to discuss your concerns and desired course of action before I see Jessica. Please sit tight.”

Natalie left, closing the door behind her.

Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and finger. He should have known that Joe would pull something like this on him.

Under the table, Kyle moved his leg. He should also be thankful that Joe hadn’t known about his injury. If he had, Kyle doubted he would’ve wanted him managing the place at all. Joe had no patience for people who didn’t show full competence at their job.

Kyle put his head in his hands. Until these last few days, he’d never thought too much about his relationship—or lack thereof—with his stepfather, but in truth, Kyle probably had joined the military just because Joe had been so down on it. A Vietnam vet, Joe hadn’t had a good experience, or so Kyle assumed. He really didn’t know much, because Joe refused to talk about it. Joe just raged. Foul moods. Brooding. With Kyle, he’d been brutal.

With women—Kyle’s mom, with Jessica and Jessica’s mom—he’d been the perfect gentleman. It was all an act, though.

Kyle had never known his own father. He’d died in a snowmobile accident when Kyle had been a baby. His sled had fallen through lake ice up in Maine. Kyle’s grandmother, before she’d passed away, had told Kyle that the authorities hadn’t found the body until the spring thaw. Kyle’s mother had met Joe when Kyle was really little. His mom had doted on Kyle. Her life was wrapped around his. It had actually taken her a few years of grieving for her deceased husband and then careful, platonic dating before she’d trusted Joe enough to marry him.

Those first years had been great. But Joe’s darkness came out after Kyle’s mom died.

He felt a lump in his throat. He remembered his mom as gentle and fragile. When he’d lost his leg, he’d felt glad that she wasn’t around to see it. It would’ve devastated her. Still, he had no doubt she would’ve supported him no matter what he did with his life. He’d supported his mom, too, in all her decisions. He remembered the day she had asked him what he thought about her marrying Joe.

“He has an ice rink. Marry him, Mom.”

So she had. And for a while everything had been good. But after his mom got sick and passed away, everything about Joe turned bitter.

If it weren’t for the rink, who knew what would’ve happened to Kyle? He’d always felt the rink had saved him after his mom’s death. Now he wanted it to save him after losing his leg.

Natalie returned, shuffling her folders. Busy and official, she sat and looked brightly at him. “So, after reading the documents, tell me what you think?”

Kyle hadn’t touched Joe’s letter, still on the table. He hadn’t even glanced at the will.

Kyle leaned forward to face the lawyer. “I don’t care what you have to do, Natalie. Whatever you have to promise Jessica to make this deal happen, please just do it.”

“You don’t have any questions for me?”

“No. Get Jessica on board any way you have to.”

“All right.” Natalie nodded as she pushed back her chair. “Let me talk with her and I’ll get back to you in a few minutes.”

Kyle nodded. He had a good idea of Jessica’s thoughts regarding partnering with him. “You’ve got your work cut out for you.”

Natalie tilted her head. “Why do you say that?”

He couldn’t explain years of history to her, ending with the guilty fact that he had caused Jessica’s career-ending injury. He just shook his head. “Honestly, it would be a lot easier if you could help me put together a deal now to buy the rink behind the scenes. Somehow that has to be possible.”

Natalie shook her head. “No, it’s not viable, Kyle, because at this point, if the rink goes up for sale you’d be competing with land developers with deep pockets. The land alone is what makes the property quite valuable. And at this point, I’m bound to take the highest bidder. That isn’t the case in six months. In six months, if the business is profitable, then we can arrange for you to achieve financing and buy out Jessica’s share. But first you need to partner effectively with her.”

Partner effectively with her? Frustrated, he sighed. “Maybe you should just let me talk to the bank?”

Natalie reached over and put a hand on his arm. “As a member of this community, and one with a child who I hope will someday use the skating rinks, I’m heartened that you want to keep the facility open. However, without a track record of running a business, I don’t see the bank giving you such a large loan, under any circumstance.” She smiled. “Let me talk with Jessica. I’d like to hear what she has to say before we make any plans.”

Kyle shut his eyes. He was doomed.

JESSICA UNZIPPED HER coat and unwound her woolen scarf from her neck. The law office felt stifling. Sebastien seemed comfortable, though, strolling around, hands in his pockets, checking out the framed old postcards on the walls. They’d been in the conference room for twenty minutes now.

“Do you still think this will is about you getting a nothing piece of jewelry?” Sebastien asked. “This seems like too much of a production, asking you to show up here, then waiting like this. Maybe you’re inheriting something that’s worth some money?”

“I honestly don’t know.” Jessica sighed. She was starting to feel guilty about not attending Joe’s funeral. Once he’d been the closest thing to a father figure that she’d had. Then, after she’d left skating, she hadn’t even wanted to see him. He reminded her of those other, more painful times. And she hadn’t wanted to be his physical therapist at first, either. “I don’t know why he even chose me.”

“Joe never said anything to you? Never a hint?”

“No. He just made that offhand comment about his ring that one time.”

“Well, did he have a lot of money? Because this law firm doesn’t look cheap.”

Jessica had to admit, she liked the vibe of it more now, with the daughter running it, than when she’d consulted with the father. Today, the decor was homey and inviting, a mixture of modern and antique, but with renovated and restored architectural features. Really, this whole town had so much historical character—she’d fallen in love with it at first sight.

She and her mother had shown up one cold February, similar to this one, and they, too, had taken a winter rental near the beach. Not as nice a place as where Sebastien lived, but the raw beauty of the New England beach in winter had made an impression on Jessica. She’d wanted to stay in Wallis Point forever. She’d begged her mom. She’d been so tired of moving around.

Natalie came into the room, a folder in her hand. She wore a cute light-gray suit and black pumps. Jessica rarely got to dress up anymore. As a physical therapist, she wore a T-shirt, jeans and sneakers—the uniform of her trade.

Natalie smiled at her. “Hi, Jessica. Thanks so much for coming today. I’m sorry I left you waiting.”

“This is my friend, Sebastien. Sebastien, this is Natalie Kimball.”

“I was admiring your postcards,” Sebastien said.

“Thanks,” Natalie replied. “I collect them. I love learning about the local history.”

“It’s interesting that the beachfront arcades look nearly the same a hundred years later,” Sebastien remarked.

“Take a look at the panels with the turn-of-the-century citizens strolling the boardwalk.”

“I saw them.” Sebastien smiled. “Great old bathing suits.”

“I sometimes wonder what people back then would think if they were transported here to modern times,” Natalie mused. “Bikinis. Flip-flops.”

“Tattoos,” Sebastien added, laughing.

Natalie smiled. Jessica sincerely doubted that Natalie had any tattoos. Jessica had a small one, well hidden. She wanted another, but it seemed as though Sebastien was sort of horrified by the idea.

“Well, I’m sure you’ve wondered why I asked you here,” Natalie said, seating herself at the table across from Jessica. “The reason is that Joe Mansell has left you a half share in the twin ice rinks, together with Kyle Northrup, and—”

“No, thank you.” Jessica pushed back her chair and stood. “Kyle can have the ice rinks. I’m not interested.”

But Sebastien gave her a look. He glanced at Natalie and raised a brow.

“Joe left you a letter,” Natalie said kindly. “Would you like to read it before you make your final decision?”

“No, thank you,” Jessica repeated. She looked at Sebastien to back her up on this.

“I’ll read it,” Sebastien replied, seating himself at the table.

“No.” Jessica took the letter that Natalie offered and stuffed it in her purse.

“Why, Jess?” Sebastien asked, turning in his chair. “Is there something you’re not telling me? You’re not even willing to listen.”

Tears pricked in her eyes. It was wrong that her boyfriend thought that of her. She’d assumed after their conversation yesterday that he’d understood how painful this topic was for her. She’d told him she’d been here before. Literally here, in this room. She’d been seventeen years old. Jessica had read in the newspaper about young athletes who’d emancipated themselves from their parents. Her mother was...well, she was figure-skating royalty. She’d won a gold medal in the Olympics, and she wanted her daughter to follow in her footsteps. Jessica had wanted to please her. In the beginning, it had been fun. But in the end, she was suffocating with the pressure and expectations.

“Sebastien, could I talk with the lawyer alone, please? I don’t want to work in an ice rink. I thought you understood this.”

“Do you realize how much that property is worth? I’m saving you from yourself here. Trust me, you’ll thank me later.” Sebastien turned to Natalie. “Tell Jessica what it’s worth.”

Natalie pressed her lips together. “Close to two million dollars,” she admitted.

“Jess, don’t you understand what kind of money that is? How much work it takes to earn that outright? How many hours I have to spend traveling and not even come close to that?”

“Technically,” Natalie said, directly to Jessica, “you would be required to work with Kyle for six months to try to make the business a success, in good faith, before you’d get your half. In addition, if you don’t agree to this term, then the land and the rinks will be sold, immediately, and the money given to charity.”

“There you go—please do give it to charity. I prefer a children’s charity, if at all possible.” Jessica said it with a deadly calm. Then she looked pointedly at Natalie. “I talked with your father once. He knew about my past history and my concerns.”

“Jess, be reasonable,” Sebastien murmured.

She gritted her teeth. Her mother used to talk to her this way. And Jessica had listened, coming as close to being destroyed as she ever wanted to come again.

She’d had thoughts of suicide at the time, which had terrified her. Her mother had icily told her there would be no legal emancipation, but that Jessica could do whatever she wanted, her mother was going back to the West Coast, convinced Jessica would never make it in Wallis Point on her own.

But Jessica had. She’d cut her hair and changed her looks. Stopped the training regimen, the diet. In the early summer she’d moved herself into a cheap studio apartment in an old motor inn near the center of town. She’d waitressed at a busy beach restaurant. People didn’t recognize her. She’d felt free. She felt herself healing. In the autumn she’d gone to community college, taking whatever courses interested her. And because she really had sustained injuries over the years and she wanted to understand her body, how to stretch and heal, she had studied physical therapy. Eventually that led to her current career.

She hadn’t wanted to come to this office today—Sebastien had convinced her. The first time she’d come here, Asa Kimball, of the Kimball Family Law Firm, had convinced her to start with a simple conversation with her mother instead of filing emancipation papers. So they’d both come in and he’d mediated a discussion between them. Her mother had been furious with her but a verbal deal had been struck. Her mother never reneged on it and neither had Jessica.

And they hadn’t spoken since.

“Why did Joe Mansell leave the ice rink to Jessica?” Sebastien asked Natalie.

The young lawyer took a deep breath, but her smile stayed on her face. “Why don’t we review the terms together and then we can talk about that?”

Jessica covered her solar plexus with her arms and leaned forward. She was developing her own suspicions regarding Joe. She hadn’t quite understood when he’d first come in, insisting that she be his physical therapist after his knee operation. She’d tried to refuse, but her boss believed that clients should choose the therapist they felt most comfortable with, and Joe had remained adamant that his therapist should be Jessica.

“Why?” she’d asked him.

“Kyle was responsible for your injury when he deliberately flooded the ice that day,” Joe had said. “It’s his fault you were hurt and left skating.”

Her blood had turned cold. Kyle had had nothing to do with her injury or her decision to pull out of skating.

She pulled Joe’s letter from her purse, took her time opening it, drawing one finger inside a crease in the envelope flap, making a long, slow, jagged tear in the heavy paper as she eased it open.

“What are the terms?” Sebastien was asking Natalie. He drummed his fingers on the table. “May I read the will?”

“Yes, of course, if Jessica would like.” Natalie nodded at Jessica. “First, though, let me give you an overview, in layman’s terms.”

“Great.” Sebastien crossed his arms. “We’re listening.”

Natalie pursed her lips. “As I explained to Kyle Northrup, his stepfather’s intent was to keep the skating rink open to the community. As such, he believed it best that Kyle have assistance from Jessica. Jessica, he believed, had knowledge from the figure skating community and Kyle from hockey. It’s a twin rink facility, and, in that business, the love, knowledge and understanding of both worlds is important for success. Joe believed that you two were his best hope.”

“I don’t have love for ice rinks,” Jessica said flatly.

“What are the terms?” Sebastien asked Natalie.

“If Jessica agrees to participate, then in six months an assessment of the business will be completed. If it’s profitable, then half the business is Jessica’s.”

“Can she force the sale of the business at that point?” Sebastien asked, cutting to the chase.

“If she chooses to sell at that point, then Kyle will have first option of purchase,” Natalie said quietly.

“He gets to set the price?”

“No, an independent assessor sets the price based on the rink’s business value.”

“Will they take into consideration the value of the land?” Sebastien asked. “Because let’s not kid ourselves. The land attached to the rink is the valuable part. I wouldn’t be surprised if there weren’t developers chomping at the bit to purchase it, tear down the old rink, and build something a lot more profitable, like condos or a modern hotel.”

Silence filled the room, as Jessica stared at the half-torn envelope, her thumb still.

“I’ve always found that the bank assessors take all factors into consideration,” Natalie said calmly.

Jessica glanced up at her. She gave the lawyer credit for poise.

Natalie looked her square in the eye. “I won’t pretend this isn’t unorthodox. Believe me, I consulted with other specialists in estate law before agreeing to go forward with it. His will may be irregular, but it is legal.”

Sebastien put a hand on Jessica’s. But the strange thing was, instead of comforting her, it made her seize up inside. Warning bells were going off all over.

“What if the rink isn’t profitable?” Sebastien asked. “What then?”

“Then it’s sold to the highest bidder and Jessica gets half.”

“So...Jessica has to participate for six months to get the deal,” Sebastien said. “What exactly does participate mean?”

Jessica felt like throwing up. She’d made a conscious decision never to participate in anything related to that world again. The loss of control she’d suffered—the manipulation—had nearly destroyed her. She’d had to lie to get out of it, and that lie was the reason Joe blamed Kyle for her injury, which then led to Kyle leaving Wallis Point.

And the fact that Sebastien was even asking this stuff when he knew how upset she was... She clenched her hand into a fist and put it in her lap.

Natalie was answering him. “It means...” The lawyer glanced at her as she spoke. “It means that Jessica needs to put in a good faith effort, specified as attendance at the rink at least thirty hours per week.”

“I can’t do that,” she blurted. “I have a job, commitments.” I have dreams. She gritted her teeth and stared at Sebastien.

After their talk on Saturday morning, they’d had a great weekend at his place. They’d walked on the beach, watched movies in bed, cooked. She’d never felt happier with him.

But now...after what she’d told him about her mom and her, he could just do this? Sentence her back to those days?

Sebastien turned to Natalie. “Thirty hours per week is a lot. Will she be compensated for those hours?”

It was as if she was watching from outside her body. A feeling of betrayal came over her. Her heart felt as if it had stopped in her chest. She was sure her mouth had dropped open.

Natalie smiled sadly at Jessica, and Jessica felt her face heating. Natalie saw her embarrassment, but Sebastien apparently didn’t.

“The agreement doesn’t specify a payment,” Natalie said gently. “I’m sorry.” She stood. “I’ll leave a copy of the will here on the table. Perhaps you’d like to read it, along with Joe’s letter, and I’ll be back in twenty minutes to discuss it further.”

“Yeah,” Sebastien said, glancing at Jessica for the first time, and giving her a “buck up” smile. “I need to talk with Jess.”

Natalie set the document on the table, then shut the door on her way out.

Jessica’s hands were still clenched in fists in her lap. She stared down at Joe’s letter. Halfway opened. The jagged rip she’d made but couldn’t finish.

“Jess,” Sebastien said softly.

“Jessica,” she said woodenly. “I’m Jessica.”

“Jessica, I know you don’t want to do this. Honestly...do you think I like being on the road all the time? I don’t. But, Jess, I do it. I do it because it pays well.”

She swallowed. Gazed at her thumb, the cuticles ragged. “I know about not having money.” She’d supported herself, all that time. All those years, alone, away from her mother. “I did it...” To save my soul. “...because I was being destroyed, and destroying other people in turn. It needed to stop. I needed to keep myself safe.”

I’m not a machine, she added silently.

He took her hand, smoothing over the jagged cuticle with his thumb. “I care about you, Jessica... I really do want to marry you,” he said quietly. “But I don’t...I never wanted to get married without being in the right financial place to support a family. I’ve been saving, but it’s not happening the way I’d hoped. I won’t lie, it’s tough out there. The economy is lousy, and this inheritance of yours is easy money. If you did this, if you sacrificed for us the way I’ve been sacrificing for us, then we’ll be able to get married. Don’t you see?”

She stared at him. “You want to marry me? Still?”

“Of course. Isn’t that what we talked about?”

Not exactly. She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that her heart was pounding and her throat felt dry. She fumbled for the bottle of water on the table.

“All I’m saying, Jess, is that we can use the money from the sale of the rink to go through with it. We could afford to buy a home in Wallis Point, a real nice place together. We could afford to have kids.”

Her head was reeling. This was exactly what she wanted, too.

“Well, Jess? Jessica,” he corrected himself. “What do you think?”

Just then there was a knock and the door opened. Natalie again. She sat down and smiled at Jessica. “I’ve spoken with Kyle. He’d like to go ahead, if you would.”

“I...” Jessica was acutely aware of Sebastien, staring at her. He’d offered to give her all her dreams.

“Why don’t you let me know what your reservations are,” Natalie said to Jessica. “I’ll talk to Kyle and see if we can smooth anything out.”

“She’s worried about losing income,” Sebastien said to Natalie. “If she works thirty hours a week at the rink, then she won’t be able to work at her real job much more than a few hours a week.”

“Is that correct?” Natalie asked Jessica, politely. “Is the loss of income your only reservation?”

Jessica gazed over at Sebastien. She really, really wanted to marry him and have a family of her own. Children she could love and give a happy childhood to, the kind she hadn’t experienced. She could take care of them, nest in her own home with them. She wouldn’t have to move back and forth from her beach rental to her summer studio rental at the change of seasons. She’d have a home that was hers.

Then everything would be fine.

She wanted that life more than anything.

Hesitantly, she nodded to Natalie. “It’s true, I can’t afford to work for free or to lose my physical therapy job.”

“You’re not worried about Kyle working with you?” Natalie asked.

Jessica shook her head. It was sort of a lie. But more than the guilt of having to face Kyle again, and more than the worry that she’d been a source of estrangement between him and Joe, she didn’t want to have to explain that history to Sebastien.

Sebastien was her safe place—her hope for the future. She didn’t want to ruin that any more than she already had.

Natalie stood. “Very well. Let me talk with Kyle and see what can be done.”

* * *

KYLE PACED THE ROOM. He couldn’t sit still. He had no idea what was going on with Jessica, but he could guess.

The door opened, and a little girl toddled inside. She had sturdy legs and plump fists. She tilted her head up at Kyle, clearly unafraid of him. Her blond curls bobbed as she spoke. “Hi! Who are you?”

“Kyle,” he answered.

“Hi, Kyle.”

“Oops, sorry about that!” Natalie stepped inside, picked up the girl and kissed her forehead. “Mommy’s working. I told you to stay with Daddy,” she said gently. She and the girl disappeared from sight.

Finally, she came back into the room. “Again, I’m sorry for the wait. I’ve spoken with Jessica.” She sat at the table and placed her palms flat.

Kyle tried to read her expression. “What did she say? Is it good or bad?”

“Frankly, I believe she can be swayed,” Natalie said. “There’s one point she’s uncomfortable with, and if you’re willing, I recommend you negotiate.”

Wow. That was a shock. He sat, nodding. “Okay, I’m listening.”

“She’s concerned about losing salary. She’s a physical therapist and is worried about cutting her hours.”

“Money is her sticking point?” he asked, flabbergasted.

“It is.”

“She’s not mad about working with me? She didn’t say anything personal about me?”

“No, she did not.”

He shook his head. Maybe things with her weren’t as bad as he thought. Maybe she’d forgiven him for their history. Maybe she hadn’t noticed that he’d assumed she was pregnant when he’d seen her on Valentine’s Day.

“So...what do you suggest I do now?” he asked the lawyer.

Natalie was silent for a moment. “As the will document notes, you received a substantial cash inheritance from Joe, as part of the estate. Jessica didn’t receive any such thing. I’m guessing you’d intended that money for living expenses while you get the rink online, but if we can’t get Jessica to work with you to begin with, then it won’t do much good there.”

Kyle slowly nodded. “Right. I could give her part of that.”

Natalie looked relieved that he’d suggested it. “I believe an offer to her is the best course. On the other hand, you could offer nothing and take your chances. But honestly, Kyle, she might walk.”

He didn’t want that. “Make her an offer on my behalf. Go in strong.” A Marine on a mission, he was prepared to do whatever it took to make the rink his place.

Natalie nodded and stood. She left the room, leaving the door ajar this time.

While he waited, pacing again, he faintly heard Natalie’s soft voice speaking from a room down the hall. She must have forgotten to shut the door. The words were a low murmur rather than anything clear.

This was torture. He stuck his head into the hallway, and noticing no one, he headed toward Natalie’s voice. His leg wasn’t cooperating that well—phantom pains, maybe because he’d been sitting for so long. But he was in his old, familiar “walking leg” prosthetic. He didn’t make a sound with it as he passed two offices, a small kitchen and a watercooler.

He stopped outside the open door of a smaller conference room. Natalie was making his offer, just as they’d discussed.

Please, Jessica, Kyle thought. Take it.

“That’s not enough,” a male voice—Sebastien—answered. “She’ll need more money than that.”

What the hell? Was the boyfriend negotiating for her?

“How much more?” Natalie asked. “Because Kyle has offered you half of the cash he inherited from Joe. That’s an extremely generous offer on his part, and not what he was required to do.”

Damn straight. Kyle was debating walking in there and telling them so himself, when suddenly Natalie exited the door, nearly bumping into him.

“Oh!” Natalie said. “Were you listening?”

“Yeah,” he murmured. And then he didn’t think, he just marched into the open conference room, intending to face Jessica.

But Jessica and her boyfriend had their heads together, sharing what looked like a romantic moment. She was leaned in close to him, and he was murmuring something into her ear.

For a moment, Kyle lost his breath. Stupid of him. It shouldn’t hurt to see her like that. Kyle wasn’t meant to be with anyone romantically. He was fine with that state of affairs.

Jessica glanced up. She sucked in her breath when she saw Kyle. Her eyes widened.

Kyle focused only on her. The rest of the room seemed to melt away.

“I won’t take your career away from you, Jessica. Whenever you have time, all I ask is that you squeeze in your hours at the rink. You won’t have to do anything you don’t want to do there. I’ll take care of everything that needs doing. You can sit in Joe’s old office, away from everybody, doing whatever pleases you. I just want you in this partnership with me, however you need to do it to make it work for both of us—so that we both get what we want.”

Her mouth dropped open. For a moment, no one made a sound.

Kyle figured he’d screwed up. He probably should have gotten on his knees and begged her forgiveness.

Well, dammit, his knees were tired. It was best she made her decision soon, because his leg wasn’t going to allow him to stand here all day.

* * *

A PARTNERSHIP. THAT would make both of them happy.

Kyle understood her better than her own boyfriend did. Then again, Kyle had lived her history with her. He’d been in that rink with her for most of her time training. He’d seen what she’d gone through. And vice versa.

Maybe she was crazy, but something about Kyle drew her...enough to overlook her guilt. Enough to be curious about him.

He seemed fine. He’d come back from his tours of duty unscathed. He didn’t seem to blame her for the fact that his relationship with Joe had suffered.

“All right,” she said, her eyes lowered. Because Sebastien was present, she forced herself to stand and cross her arms, acting more businesslike than she felt. “You have a deal, Kyle. I’ll do this under the terms that you and Natalie specified.”

Kyle stared at her, directly into her eyes. Again, that silliness—her knees felt weak. He’d bulked up so much—it was apparent now with him standing there in a wool sweater. And his beard was so bushy and full. He looked nothing like the wiry, defiant teenager he’d once been. But he still seemed capable and honest.

He tilted his head and looked at her, almost as if he was reading her mind. As if he saw something in her that nobody else did. Maybe she should have been worried, but she wasn’t.

In a flash, the moment was over.

“Kyle, may I see you a moment, in private?” Natalie murmured to him.

He nodded, and with deliberate steps he left the room.

Jessica gazed back at Sebastien. He was fiddling with his phone, scrolling through his messages.

I’m alone in this, she thought. Six months. I have to do six months in that rink without him, on my own.

She tucked the half-opened envelope with Joe’s letter back into her purse, too dispirited to read it just now.

* * *

“KYLE, I HOPE you understand there’s more to making your business successful than just paying Jessica to show up and doing everything else yourself,” Natalie said, her soft voice filled with concern.

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered, and without breaking stride he swiped Joe’s envelope off the table and stuck it in his back pocket. He also pocketed the key to Joe’s house.

He wasn’t concerned about doing all the work, whatever needed to be done. Based on their past history, he fully assumed Jessica would be avoiding him most of the time. He was prepared for that.

“Where’s the key to the rink?” he asked Natalie.

She exhaled. “I can’t give it to you just yet. I’ll need to walk both you and Jessica through the facility on the first Monday in March. That will give you two weeks to give your notice on your job and to settle your affairs in Maryland. Is that acceptable to you?”

It made sense, actually. But his mind couldn’t help racing ahead, to the important stuff. “What’s going on with the rink? I drove over yesterday, but it was closed. It looked deserted.”

“It’s been closed for most of the winter, except for weekday afternoons when the high school hockey team holds their practices.”

“What about the kids’ leagues at night?” Kyle asked. “And the high school games on Saturday? And...public skating in the morning?”

Natalie shook her head. “Joe had to cut back. His poor health necessitated it.”

Wow. Kyle swiped a hand over his face. “Do I have any employees to work with?”

“I spoke with several of them, and there are three who want to come back.”

A skeleton crew. Shit. “Do I know any of them?” Kyle asked.

“Carol from the office, plus Patrick and Mike who do maintenance work and operate the Zambonis.”

Kyle had no idea who any of them were. His heart was sinking fast. What did he expect? That this would be a walk in the park with two good legs? Right.

“Let’s not worry about that for now,” Natalie said. “You and Jessica will figure it out together.”

He refrained from snorting. Natalie didn’t need to doubt his attitude. Instead, he nodded at her. “Thanks. Those three employees will be good for me to start with.”

“And Jessica,” Natalie repeated. “You’ll have Jessica.”

No, he would never have Jessica. If anyone had Jessica, it was her boyfriend. The two of them were close enough that he’d accompanied her to Natalie’s office and had done a lot of the negotiating for her, too, it seemed.

Kyle sighed. What he had from Jessica was strictly a business agreement to sign on with him for Joe’s crazy deal, just long enough to meet the insane six-month waiting period to make sure that the rink ended up in Kyle’s hands.

He had no doubt he’d be required to buy her out at the end of the summer. That was fine with him. Preferable, even. She was welcome to Kyle’s money until then—that wasn’t a problem in his mind, either.

The only thing he did care about was that the rink wasn’t being sold to a stranger. Torn down so some rich developer could get even richer putting up more condos. Taking away what had meant most to Kyle.

Kyle shook off the worries. He’d gotten Jessica to agree to Joe’s terms. That was all he needed to start his new life.

Well, he hoped that was all he needed, because in no way did he deceive himself that Jessica Hughes would ever really be his partner.

CHAPTER FOUR

KYLE HAD A long list of plans for his new life. Before the first week was out, he gave notice to his landlord and packed up what few clothes and personal items he’d accumulated.

He also announced his intention to close out his Maryland employment commitments. Nobody in his office was surprised, least of all his manager. He asked Kyle where he planned to go, and Kyle replied, “Home.”

The Wallis Point Twin Rinks had always been Kyle’s real home. And now he was so close to running it that he could taste the excitement in his mouth—he could barely wait.

By the time he drove back to New Hampshire—seven-plus hours of motoring northeast up turnpikes surrounded by darkness—he still had another ten days before his Monday morning meeting with Natalie. Then he would finally have the keys to the rink pressed into his hands. He wasn’t ever letting them go.

Antsy, impatient, he aimed for the rinks, rather than 18 Linden Lane, his childhood home, to crash in his old bed. He wasn’t eager to check out how Joe had changed the digs. Even in the zero-dark-hundred hours, he was reminded that the terrain on this side of town looked different from when he’d lived here.

The road had been widened to accommodate more local traffic. They’d squeezed in a new convenience store between the old pizzeria and the landscape and gardening center. And, they’d put up a traffic light.

But the strangeness disappeared when Kyle turned into the twin rinks’ lot. Security beacons illuminated the familiar concrete building with the low, flat roof. The parking spaces were freshly plowed—a good first sign that things were being taken care of.

Eager to do some interior reconnoitering, Kyle scanned for the handicap spaces. He was grateful for the installed ramp that ran the length of the building leading to the glassed-in entranceway. It meant that Kyle could avoid the awkwardness of using the stairs. He’d spent much time practicing climbing stairs in rehab, but he hadn’t completely rid himself of the limp, and occasionally he still had a slip.

He didn’t want to slip—and definitely not fall—in front of Jessica. Just the thought made his heart stop in his chest.

Jessica would be present during the rink walk-through and key exchange with Natalie. No way could Kyle risk her seeing him having any difficulties getting around.

Long ago, he’d decided he’d let no civilian form prejudices against him based on his being weak. That went double for Jessica, or anyone else he worked with.

He parked in the closest unmarked spot beside the ten handicapped spaces, and then hoofed it as fast he dared along the barely lit, shoveled-and-sanded ramp that led to the front doors.

Once there, he blew on his bare hands in the cold, frosty, dark morning and cupped them between his face and the glass.

He couldn’t see anything inside. And the entrance doors were both locked and chained. Still, he was home. One step closer in a long and winding journey that was fast closing in a circle, bringing him back to the place he’d started.

Older and, hopefully, wiser.

* * *

JESSICA ROARED INTO the parking lot of the Wallis Point Twin Rinks with a well-thought-out action plan in mind: Tell Kyle the truth so we can survive these six months together without feeling guilty all the time.

She had to tell him—her conscience was bothering her. Her past mistake was tormenting her thoughts, keeping her up at night and driving a new, uncomfortable rift between her and Sebastien because of her refusal to discuss it with him.

And her guilt had only gotten worse since reading Joe’s letter.

Her neck muscles tightened as she faced the familiar building. Gripping the steering wheel, she aimed toward the only two cars in the lot, on the farthest edge beside the handicapped spaces. As a physical therapist, she appreciated these aids for people who needed them, like her clients. She slowed to a stop and parked beside what she assumed was Kyle’s big, black pickup truck with the Maryland plates.

Her little orange Volkswagen seemed so beat-up and old beside the hulking, gleaming monster. Her car was used. Ten years old, with over two hundred thousand miles on the odometer. It broke down all the time, and on cold days it didn’t always start. Like today.

Outside, she secured her tote bag across her shoulder and wrapped her scarf more tightly around her neck. She was freezing. Worse than that, dread swirled in the pit of her stomach.

She pulled open the double glass doors to the rink lobby. Kyle stood there, big and gruff, wearing a poker face. He didn’t meet her eyes—not good.

She swallowed, focusing on Natalie, all dressed up in a long wool coat and high-heeled boots, with a smart skirt-suit beneath it. Very lawyerly looking.

But it was the sleepy child in Natalie’s arms that made Jessica truly relax.

“Aren’t you a sweetie?” Jessica smiled at the toddler, bundled into a pink snowsuit and wearing cute boots with princess decals.

“Sorry I had to bring Hannah along to the walk-through.” Natalie shifted the child to her other hip. “I’m dropping her off at my mother’s house before I head into court this morning, but seven o’clock was a bit early, even for Mom to take her.”

Kyle glanced at his watch. Jessica knew she was twenty minutes late. Her cranky car had needed a jump start from her neighbor.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be here on time,” she said.

“That’s all right.” Natalie pulled out a huge key ring, with what seemed like dozens of keys on it, and handed it to Kyle. “How about if you do the honors, Kyle? We’ll head into the receptionist’s office and I’ll get you both started with the paperwork.”

Kyle froze for a moment, staring at the keys in his hands as if he couldn’t quite believe he was holding them. He was in awe, like a kid at Christmas.

Another reminder of how sad it was that she’d been responsible for unfairly poisoning Joe toward Kyle. Jessica dipped her chin inside her wool scarf, her heart sinking.

“Hi!” the toddler suddenly said. “Who are you?”

Jessica glanced up. The toddler was speaking to her.

“I’m Jessica. And you’re Hannah, right?”

“Hi, Jessica.”

She smiled at little Hannah. As she followed Natalie into the rink, Hannah grinned at Jessica from her position over her mom’s shoulder. Jessica winked at her, and the toddler giggled, her chubby fingers over small pink lips. Sweet.

Once they were in the office, Jessica found it helpful to watch Hannah while Natalie gave them the rules of the road, so to speak.

“Even though I’ve passed over a set of keys to Kyle,” Natalie said, “I have the master set in my office because, technically, I’m acting as executor until the terms of the agreement are fulfilled. I’ve made up sign-in sheets for both of you to record your hours.” Natalie leaned over, reaching into her bag for a blue notebook, and in doing so she set Hannah on her feet.

“Do you mind if I hold her?” Jessica asked.

Natalie straightened, glancing first at her daughter and then Jessica. “Sure, go ahead.”

Jessica lifted Hannah into her arms. The child was heavier than she looked. Immediately, she reached for Jessica’s necklace, which was swinging free over Jessica’s turtleneck.

“I wear this?” Hannah asked, holding the pendant between thumb and forefinger.

“Hannah, we don’t ask people for their things,” Natalie said gently to her daughter.

Jessica laughed. “It’s just an abalone shell I picked up at a crafts fair.” A yard sale, actually. And the shell was encased in sterling silver, which Jessica had cleaned and polished. “Of course, honey, I’ll let you try it on if you’d like.”

Hannah put her chubby arms around Jessica’s neck and buried her cheek inside Jessica’s unzipped jacket.

Jessica lowered her nose to Hannah’s wispy-fine curls. She smelled like talc and baby shampoo. It was the most comforting, heartwarming scent she could imagine.

The room turned quiet. Jessica glanced up and noticed Kyle staring at her with a strange look on his face. Natalie just seemed pensive.

Natalie cleared her throat. “Kyle, why don’t you sign yourself and Jessica in, since she has her hands full?” She turned to Jessica. “Every time you come in, I’ll need you each to clock in and out on this sheet. We’ll leave it on the honor system. Don’t worry, I trust you—the paperwork is for your safety, in case anyone ever challenges that you kept to your bargain. It will be proof you were here when you said you were. Then, every few weeks, I’ll come and pick it up. I need to file a report with the court every month as part of the trusteeship, and we want to make sure our records are unimpeachable. Does that sound all right to you both?”

“Fine,” Kyle gritted out.

“Great,” Jessica said, smoothing Hannah’s curls.

“I’d like to see the rest of the rink,” Kyle said. His gaze was looking everywhere around the office except at Jessica and Hannah. Up at the ceiling. Down at the floor. Studying the faded Formica countertops.

“Well, I do need to warn you again,” Natalie said, picking up her bag. “Since the facility was partially shut down during Joe’s illness, it’s in rough shape.”

“That’s okay,” Kyle said gruffly. “I’ll fix it.”

Jessica had no doubt that he would. She gently rocked the toddler in her arms, which helped Jessica stay calm. Except for the present conversation, she’d barely noticed she was back in the rink she’d sworn never to set foot inside again. She’d been dreading this day since the meeting in Natalie’s office.

If she could keep Hannah with her every day for six months, she might be okay. She laughed softly to herself. Yeah, Natalie would love that, she thought, shaking her head at her silliness.

“I’m not going to sugarcoat it,” Natalie was saying. “As I understand it from the assessors, the rink is in crisis. Much of the old machinery is falling apart. The second Zamboni isn’t working. The compressor in the big rink is on the fritz. That’s a direct quote from Joe. The small rink—the figure-skating rink—isn’t working at all...”

Jessica tried to tune out what Natalie was saying. She had no intention of having anything to do with any of it. She thought she was doing pretty damn great as it was. She felt calm, no longer filled with anxiety and guilt. Hannah quietly played with Jessica’s abalone pendant, chattering to it in sweet toddler talk, distracting Jessica and settling her nerves.

“...in addition, two of the toilets are inoperative and one of the sinks is cracked. A plumber needs to be consulted.”

“I’ll do it,” Kyle said in his quiet, authoritative voice. “I’ll fix all the equipment.”

He actually seemed happy about the challenge, and it was the one thing about this whole scenario that Jessica was grateful for—that Kyle was happy. It helped ease her guilt. Somewhat. She still needed to talk to him about her letter. To get it off her chest...

Natalie unlocked a door beside the desk clerk’s counter, and a musty odor filled the room. Jessica wrinkled her nose.

“The place just needs a good, deep cleaning,” Kyle said, not to Jessica but to Natalie, who was standing stoically by. “I washed this place from top to bottom every season as a kid.”

Jessica remembered that. The rink used to shut down for a week in June. One time she’d been inside with her mother, meeting with Joe, and she’d noticed that Kyle had seemed to be assigned a lot of the messy janitorial duties. Painting, cleaning rubber matting, disinfecting the locker rooms, shining exterior windows...

“I’ll take care of it,” he repeated.

Jessica swallowed. Her guilt was kicking in again.

“Why don’t we take that walk-through?” Natalie suggested, glancing at her watch. “I have about ten minutes before I have to leave if I want to make it in time for court.”

Jessica’s heart sped up. She had no intention of venturing past this entry area, certainly not into the heart of the rink with the ice surfaces or locker rooms.

She hugged Hannah, but the toddler squirmed and Jessica set her down on her feet.

Jessica glanced through the glass doors and across the hallway. Joe’s old office was located there, and it was where Jessica planned to stake out her thirty hours per week for the next twenty weeks or so. That was their agreement, and she was sticking to it.

“I’ll stay here, in Joe’s old office and watch your little girl for you,” she said to Natalie.

“Are you okay?” Natalie asked, peering into her face.

Jessica nodded, glancing away. Once she’d been prone to panic attacks, and she well knew how they started. Flushed cheeks. Rapid breathing. Fixation on an unwanted result.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, more to herself than to Natalie. She opened the glass door and prepared to head out to the hallway again. “Where’s the key to Joe’s old office?” she asked, turning...

And as she turned, she saw a bare, rectangular spot of faded paint on the old concrete wall above the double doors that led to the twin rinks.

The office door closed behind her. Jessica froze, alone in the hallway, staring at the wall above the double doors. This was where her poster-sized portrait had been. Her smiling image had greeted everyone who’d entered the Wallis Point Twin Rinks during all the years she’d trained here.

The office door clicked open and shut behind her, and she heard the heaviness of Kyle’s work boots on the rubber matting beside her.

From the corner of her eye, she saw him gazing at the empty spot, too, and then at her. He’d worked and played at the rink during the same time she had. He would remember that poster. He would be thinking exactly what she was thinking, except that he wouldn’t know that her smiling face had been a lie.

He exhaled, darting a glance her way. Maybe he did suspect she’d been lying back then. Sometimes the way he used to meet her eyes when they’d had a rare moment alone had made her wonder what he thought. But he’d never said a word about any suspicions he might have had regarding her real feelings. He’d made kind gestures—a small favor here or there, a cup of coffee or a kind look. Actions, but not words.

That’s who Kyle was—the strong and silent type. He didn’t avoid unpleasant situations, as Sebastien tended to, but he didn’t dwell on things, either.

She turned her back on the rectangle of faded paint, breathed slowly in and out. Focused her attention on the lobby floor. On the peeling rubber mats that had seen better days. The dirty, scuffed interior walls and a limp plant, dead in its pot.

She felt a gentle pressure on her shoulder, a comforting human touch.

Kyle. She wasn’t prepared for him to touch her—he’d barely glanced at her all morning—but when she looked into his face, she saw understanding, the gaze of someone who’d known and remembered her.

In all the years of their awkward teen acquaintance, she’d never been physically close to him before. They’d never touched skin.

She reached across her chest and pressed the back of his knuckles with the palm of her hand. She meant it as a thank-you, but the shock of his heat and strength struck her at once.

Her heart made a trembling pitter-patter in her chest.

“It will be okay,” he murmured.

Her breathing sounded loud, even to her. “I hope so.” She stared at the glass doors that led to the twin rinks. “I don’t ever want to go inside those rinks again, Kyle, so I hope you don’t expect me to.”

Kyle’s eyes were green and earnest, as if making her a promise. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, Jessica. I’ll protect you from all of that.”

As opposed to Sebastien, who’d made her agree to things that she didn’t want to do, just to keep their future on track.

Jessica glanced away. Her mother had never cared about Jessica doing what she wanted, either. Hedley Jackson had been all about the long view. “Day-to-day discipline,” she’d insisted to Jessica. “Be practical in your choices.” Everything her mother had achieved in her own star-studded figure-skating career had come from dedication, denial and hard work. She’d expected the same of her only child.

“I appreciate your saying that,” Jessica said to Kyle. She tried to laugh, but it came out as a choke.

“I remember how hard it was for you.” Kyle’s face darkened. “But these are new days. I meant what I said back in the lawyer’s office.”

Partners, he’d said.

She nodded, swallowing. She should take her hand off his now. If Sebastien suddenly walked into the rink and saw them, it would look disloyal of her. But she knew what Kyle was doing. He wasn’t trying to seduce her but to reassure her.

“Thanks,” she told him. “I appreciate you helping me.”

There was a cough behind them.

“Jessica,” Natalie said. How long had their lawyer been watching them?

Kyle abruptly dropped his hand at the same time that Jessica stepped away from him.

“I’m giving you the key to Joe’s office.” Natalie pulled it off the large key ring. “You’ll have the only copy, so it will be your private space.”

Had Natalie noticed her discomfort? Jessica took the key, determined to get a grip. “That will be great. Thank you.”

More composed now, Jessica turned to Kyle. More than ever, she needed to apologize to him for her past mistake, and she needed him to forgive her, too, but she’d wait until they were alone to discuss it. “When you come back from your walk-through, could you please stop by and see me, Kyle? I have something I need to speak to you about.”

Gazing at a spot on the wall behind her, Kyle nodded once. Shortly.

That was him being strong and silent in front of the lawyer. She got that.

“Thank you,” Jessica said again, quietly.

Kyle was home, healthy, doing what he was meant to do. Once she apologized for making Joe angry at him all those years ago, causing his departure, then she should be okay. At least, she hoped so.

* * *

KYLE COULD BARELY concentrate on the inspection tour ahead of him.

Natalie held a clipboard and was making notes, matching keys to locks, mainly. Besides Joe and Johnny David, Kyle was probably the only person in Wallis Point who knew all the secrets this old rink kept.

Too bad he was so fixated on Jessica. His guilt meter was through the roof. And now, not just guilt over dragging her back to face the past, but worry for her well-being, too.

Dammit. How could he ask her to come in here every day? Jessica seemed destroyed just by setting foot in this place again.

When he’d seen her face, staring at the faded spot where her picture had been, he’d been seized by the desire to take her under his wing and protect her at all costs. Which explained the touching-her-shoulder bit. That wasn’t his style. Never had been.

Natalie cleared her throat, and he snapped to attention. They were in the garage bay beside the hockey rink, inspecting an aging Zamboni. He glanced at the high driver’s seat, not sure if he could hoist himself up there, given his leg situation.

“Kyle,” Natalie said, “I was just saying that any time you want to confer about anything, my office is open to you. That goes for Bruce, as well.”

Bruce, her husband—the Navy veteran. “Are you saying this because I’m a veteran?” Kyle asked, mildly annoyed. Did she think he was emotionally damaged?

“My husband keeps in touch with a lot of your old classmates. I’m thinking maybe you’ll want to catch up with some old friends as you settle back into town.”

Kyle had new friends, from his time in the service. “Thanks, but I’m okay.” He turned and inspected the electric panel that controlled the rink’s overhead lights.

“Of course,” Natalie said. “I’m sure that you and Jessica will do just fine.”

Kyle thought of the space on the wall in the lobby where her poster had been. Jessa Hughes. World Junior Champion. The Pride of Wallis Point. That had been the caption beneath it. “Did you ever skate here when you were a kid?” he asked Natalie.

“Yes, I did. Many Friday night open skates, back when I was in middle school.”

He nodded. When Natalie was in middle school that poster of Jessica’s had been front and center. Jessa Hughes’s presence had brought in crowds of people to Joe’s old rink. She’d been a celebrity back then.

Slowly Kyle shut the squeaking cover of the electrical box. Everybody in Wallis Point would know about her youthful disappointment. That had to be hard for her. Yet no one knew anything about his leg. No one had been told in Wallis Point. There had been no news stories. It was his secret to tell, when he was ready.

Natalie was staring at him. “I have to go now, Kyle. Will you two be okay?”

They had to be. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Great. I’ll check up on you next week. Remember, my office is always open.”

* * *

AFTER KYLE WALKED Natalie to the front door, he knocked on Joe’s door—now Jessica’s door. He’d dreaded combat less than this encounter.

Bracing himself, he stepped aside as she joined him in the hallway. Through the front windows, they both watched Natalie walk down the ramp with her daughter.

“She’s a great little kid,” Jessica murmured. “Natalie is lucky to have her.”

Kyle stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets and said nothing.

Finally, Jessica tore her attention from the scene outside and gazed up at him. She would always be pretty to him, with her liquid brown eyes and ready smile. But now she had dark circles under her eyes. Her arms were crossed, and she appeared somber.

Automatically, his neck muscles tensed.

“I got a letter from Joe.” She licked her lips and gazed straight at his chest, as if embarrassed to look him in the eye. “I read it when I got home from the law office that day. I’ve been thinking about it ever since.”

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