I know Leo doesn’t talk much about his family. He’s close with his adoptive parents in Virginia, but when it came to his birth mom, the subject was always off-limits. Back then, I never pushed—it didn’t feel like my place. It was a part of his life he kept locked up, and I never wanted to pressure him.
“I’ll warn you in advance,” I say, “he’s probably going to make everyone miserable while I’m here.”
“He can’t get any grumpier,” Sloan says with a laugh.
“Trust me, he has every reason to be.” I hesitate, wondering how much I should confess about our past. “In college, I basically broke up with him out of nowhere.”
Sloan rolls out the rest of the sugar cookie dough, deep in thought. “Are you sure he’s over you?”
“If dating someone else two weeks later isn’t a clear sign, then I don’t know what is.” The memory still twists my stomach into knots.
Seeing Leo with another girl on campus, arms wrapped around her waist, was its own special kind of torture. The way she batted her eyes at him made my stomach churn, but I couldn’t let him see me. So I ducked behind a group of soccer players and snuck around to the back entrance to avoid crossing his path. As far as I know, he never realized I was there. Even if he had, I doubt he’d have cared—not after what I’d done to him.
Sloan sets the rolling pin to the side. “No matter how he feels, he’s going to have to accept you’re here because ofan emergency.” She picks out a star-shaped cookie cutter and begins piercing the dough into a neat line of stars.
“Believe me, I’d leave if I could. My plan is to scrape together enough money to get out of this town eventually.”
Sloan’s brow creases as she carefully lines up the cookies on the tray. “What I don’t understand is why your dad would interfere. Especially if he knows your past together.”
I shrug. “Dad knew I was desperate for a practice partner, and a hockey player is better than nothing.” I step next to Sloan and cut the last cookies out of the remaining dough since Leo isn’t returning anytime soon. “But he also knew this would be humiliating for Leo. He’s never tolerated players with an attitude, and my mom never thought Leo was good enough for me. I’m just waiting for Leo to get back at me by ‘accidentally’ dropping me on my head.”
Sloan laughs. “I don’t know. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
“Like he’s imagining all the ways I could meet my untimely demise?” I snort.
Sloan turns toward me. “A man who looks at a woman the way he looks at you... is a man who’s fighting a losing battle with his heart.”
I frown. “We’re definitely not talking about the same Leo.” I’ve seen the way his eyes close off when I’m around, like there’s no warmth or love in them. “I wish we could at least be friends. But I’m not sure that’s even possible.”
“Maybe you should try,” Sloan suggests. “Set some ground rules. Show him you’re willing to meet halfway.” Sloan stops and sniffs the air. “Do you smell that?”
She whirls around to the oven, flinging open the door to reveal a tray of charred snowman cookies. Smoke billows out as she dumps the tray into the sink.
“That’s a dozen cookies down the drain,” she groans. “And I still have so many other things to do before the party.”
“I’ll grab some from the store,” I offer. “Let me shower first.”
As I head upstairs, Jaz bursts through the door with a pair of scissors in hand.
“He’s gone,” she announces. “But I had to kill Santa when Leo wasn’t looking.”
Sloan’s jaw drops. “You stabbed the inflatable Santa?”
“An act of mercy. Otherwise, Leo wouldn’t believe me.”
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. “I can’t believe you’d do this for me,” I say, trying to hold back the sudden wave of emotion in my chest.
Jaz looks at me like I’m crazy. “Why wouldn’t we?”
“Because no one else has gone to so much trouble,” I admit. The skating world is bitterly competitive, and sadly, I’ve never really had many close friends. “You’ve taken me in, taught me to bake, and murdered your favorite Santa all in one day.”
Jaz’s grin is brighter than the Christmas lights outside. “Honey, this is what women do for their friends. We bake, we vent, and yes, we occasionally commit Santa-cide and then pretend it never happened. And if we’re lucky, we’ll laugh about it in ten years over guacamole and chips. That’s the magic of friendship.”
ELEVEN
leo
Iglare at the suitcases hidden in the back hall. “Why does it look like Santa dropped off his luggage for a week?”
