Rinkmates: A steamy Hockey Romance (The Mates series Book 1)

I watch as Liora’s body stiffens, fear etched across her face.

I know that look all too well—the feeling of being completely out of place in this house. But now, it’s more than just discomfort. It’s an overwhelming sense of protectiveness that washes over me. I wrap my arm around her chair, trying to offer some comfort while she absently pushes the pudding around her plate.

My father’s gaze is fixed on her. “Did you know I’m friends with him?”

She startles, shaking her head. “No, sir. I didn’t.”

“Dad, can we please not—”

“He told me you quit because of some petty heartbreak. Is that true?” my father continues, disapproval written all over his face.

I hate this man so much.

My chest tightens at the thought of Liora giving up her dream because of a breakup. It couldn’t be true. Before I can say anything, Liora shifts in her seat and speaks up. “I’d rather not talk about it, if that’s okay.”

I catch Rosalie’s concerned glance and she mouths to me, Get her out.

Without hesitation, I stand up. “I’m so sorry, Mom, Dad, but it’s getting late and Liora and I have a big day tomorrow before the gala. Thank you for dinner, good night!”

I help Liora up and as we make our way out of the dining room, I hear Rosalie launching into a story about receiving a standing ovation from New York’s mayor last week.

Once we’re alone in the hallway, Liora’s breathing becomes frantic and she starts trembling uncontrollably.

I take her face in my hands and try to calm her down. “Hey, shhh, what’s going on?”

But Liora doesn’t respond, unshed tears glitter in her dull eyes as she struggles to catch her breath. My heart clenches. “Just breathe, Lia. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Fuck. I need to snap her out of whatever is happening.

I scoop her up with ease, her limp body a telltale sign of her distress. I think her heart goes a mile a minute. Liora always put up a fight whenever I tried to carry her princess style, but not today. I need to get her back.

I walk toward the beach on autopilot, holding onto her tightly as I make our way through the house and out into the night.

My therapist’s words echo in my mind. Channel your emotions, focus on your surroundings.

That’s exactly what we need to do right now.

“Can you smell it? The sea?” The salty tang of the ocean breeze engulfs us as we make our way to the beach just behind my parents’ house. It’s a familiar path, one I’ve walked countless times in my childhood. “Listen to the crash of waves,” I say, the sound like a soothing metronome in front of us. The soft grains of sand shift under my feet as I walk, Liora’s tense shoulders gradually loosening with each step. “Feel the wind,” I continue.

She places her hand over my heart, and I can’t help but lean down to press a kiss to her hair. “I feel your heartbeat,” she says softly.

“It’s a mess,” I confess.

“It’s all I need right now.”

My stupid heart gives a happy spin.

I sit down on a weathered piece of driftwood, still holding her close to me. “You know, my grandmother taught me how to swim on this beach,” I tell her, just to keep saying anything, but there’s a tiny smile tugging at my lips, and I catch myself tracing little hearts on her back with my finger. I’ve never done this before. Telling a girl so much about myself. About what I truly feel like. “Gran’s the only family member besides Rosie that I truly care for. She’s an incredible woman, so patient and kind. The opposite of my parents. I used to spend a lot more time with her, but during the season, it’s nearly impossible. I’m just glad if I can manage to call her once a month. I can’t wait for the off-season when I’ll finally have time to visit her more often.”

Memories flood back to me like the tide as I think about spending summers here with her. Each time my parents fought, she was there, taking me and Rosalie away. We built sandcastles with shells and stones. It was beautiful.

Her hand remains on my chest, seeking comfort in the chaos of my racing heartbeat. “I can’t wait to see her tomorrow,” I continue.

The idea of introducing her to my grandmother feels like a daring decision, one I never had the courage to make before. There’s nothing fake about it. It’s the most real thing I could do. And yet, there’s a warm and comforting feeling blossoming in my heart at the thought of them meeting.

I know they’ll love each other. And I know I want them to.

“If you asked me as a child, I would have said I wanted to live with gran. She’s nothing like those rich-ass people. She comes from one of the wealthiest families around here, but she doesn’t flaunt it. She lives modestly, cooks for herself, and even donates her wealth to those in need.”

A pang of guilt hits me as I think about my own privileged upbringing. But then again, it’s not like I had control over that.

“I guess it’s where my Fruit Loops addiction comes from too. I hated eating healthy and she always bought the cereal I wasn’t allowed to eat,” I say, causing Liora to let out a giggle.

But then her tears resurface, and she attempts to brush them away. “I can’t with you and your Fruit Loops,” she says with another forced chuckle that quickly turns into a choked sob.

I hold her closer. “If you ever want to stop my tantrums, throw a blue loop my way and I’m a happy man.”

“They all taste the same,” she says, snorting.

I mock gasp. “Don’t you ever say something so cruel again.”

“You’re silly.”

I kiss her hair. “You’re better?”

She nods against my shoulder. “Thanks.”

“Always.”

The moon casts a silvery glow across the dark waters and we both stare at the sea for a few heartbeats.

“Lia…what happened back there?” I ask gently, hoping she will finally open up.

Her body tenses once more, her breaths becoming short and shallow as she seems to search for the right words.

“I’m sorry, Riley,” she says with a sigh. “There are just…some things I can’t tell.”

My heart sinks at her words. “Why not?”

Liora pulls away from my embrace, wrapping her arms around herself. Tears still glisten in her eyes, and I feel a pang of anger toward whoever or whatever is causing her pain like this.

“Because…because I’m afraid,” she admits. “Afraid of what people will think. Afraid of what your father might already know.” A wave of emotion washes over me as I realize the gravity of her words. When he asked about her coach earlier, it had seemed like an innocent question—but now, it feels like a loaded one. “I-I can’t talk about it,” Liora chokes out before falling into silence once again.

I can see the fear and vulnerability in her eyes as she looks up at me for reassurance. I want to protect her, to keep her safe from whatever is causing her pain. But how can I do that when I have no idea what’s going on? I’m torn between wanting to shield her from everything and needing to step back to let her cope with it at her own pace. I don’t want to do the wrong thing, but then it just spills out of me. “Did your coach hurt you?” I brush back some baby hairs that have fallen onto her forehead.

Within seconds, her face is a whirlwind of emotions.

My mind races.

“I know what you’re assuming,” she finally speaks. “But it wasn’t a sexual assault.”

The conflicting thoughts in my head only intensify as I try to process her words.

Something lightens in my chest but the knot in my throat just won’t loosen up. I want to shake her, scream at her to just tell me, to let me help. But I don’t. Instead, I say as calm as I can. “I understand that you don’t want the media to know. But I thought we trust each other now, since we are…we are—” Fuck. Something gets stuck in my throat.

Her eyes flicker, a glimmer of hope sparking to life. “Yes, what are we, Riley?” she asks, her voice soft, almost fragile, like she’s holding her breath, waiting for me to say the words she’s been wanting to hear. But before I can even process what I feel, what I really want, the stupidest word slips out of my mouth. “Friends?”

The hope in her eyes dims instantly, like I just snuffed out a candle.

Her shoulders drop a fraction, and I can see it—she was waiting for more, hoping for more. And I let her down. I let myself down.

My stomach sinks.

And she freezes.

Fuck friends is the wrong word. We’re more than friends.

Why did I have to ruin it? Why couldn’t I just keep my mouth shut?

“Friends,” she says, with a forced smile and a nod. “That’s what we are. Friends who fake dated.”

We both know it’s not true.

We’ve been pretending for so long now. I’m so fucking sick of pretending. But we’ve never talked about what we want. What do we want? What do I want? Fuck.

She wipes away another tear and gets up to leave.

My heart races as I watch her go, leaving tiny footprints in the sand, her red shoes in her hand.

Seconds turn to minutes.

And a sudden gust of chilly wind snaps me out of my daze, hitting my cheek like a slap that jolts me back to reality.

No.

Wait.

I won’t ever let her go.

I’ve done stupid things in my past, but I will never make this mistake.

I run after her. “Lia, please wait. Please.”

She doesn’t.

So I sprint. “Liora!”

She turns around, there are several feet between us, but I see that her jaw is so tight. That her eyes flash with anger. The kind I never want to see again. “What, Riley? What?”

“I asked you to wait!”

“Oh, and when you ask, I should do it just like your little dog? Surely not!”

“No, I want to talk to you!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, what do you want then?”

I scoff. “What I want?”

“Yes! What you want! You started kissing me, started treating me as if there’s more to us, as if there’s—”

“Real feelings? Even though the contract forbids it?” I take a step closer, my heart pounding.

Her blonde hair whips in the wind as she looks at me as if I have a knife ready to stab her. “Yes, Liora. Because I do have real feelings for you.”

She laughs, but it’s bitter. “Feelings?” she yells. “You’re really going to stand there and say that now? You don’t even know what you’re getting into!”

“Yes, because you won’t let me in,” I yell back, my voice cracking. “I didn’t mean for it to happen, but it did. And I know it’s not part of the plan, not part of the contract we signed, but it’s real. And it’s ruining me.”

“It was fake,” she says as if daring me to say the truth.

“It wasn’t,” I insist. “It was real. Every moment, every touch, every kiss. It was real all along.”

She takes a step back, crossing her arms over her chest, as if to shield herself from my words. “But friends don’t catch feelings.”

I scoff. “I’m sorry I said that, okay? We’re not friends. At least I don’t want you to be just my friend. I fell for you, I fell so hard, and I’m still falling.”

There. I said it.

I practically ripped out my heart and gave it to her.

She doesn’t say anything and I’m getting anxious.

I add, stepping closer. “I may be an idiot because this is supposed to be fake, but I had feelings the minute you walked into my apartment. I spent all my fucking teenage years obsessing over you, and you turned out to be the most funny, cute, smart, determined, focused, talented, and thoughtful human being I’ve ever met. I wanted to hate you. And I did, but only because I was terrified—terrified that if I let myself love you, you wouldn’t love me back.”

A single tear runs down her rosy cheek. “It’s not that easy—”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “No, I won’t let you push me away. We can figure this out. We can find a way. Because I know it was real for you too. You don’t have to say it. I felt it.”

She rakes both hands through her long hair, her mouth opens but no sound comes out. I know if I go now, she wouldn’t come back to me. She’d leave me. But I say it anyway, “Let me help you.”

“No one can help me.” Her words are sharp, but her voice cracks and her breath hitches.

I close the distance between us, captivated by the moonlight casting a soft glow on her beautiful face. Her eyes, swollen and rimmed with red, meet mine as tears run down her cheeks. I kneel softly, letting my hands slide from her shoulders to her hips as I lower myself onto the sand, feeling it yield beneath my knees. “I’m not leaving, Liora.”

Her voice drops to a whisper. “You say this now.” The tiny crack in her voice makes my stomach clench.

“I will always say this.”

She shakes her head.

“Try me.”

“I’m afraid.”

“Of what?”

She sinks down to me, and my hands glide up her thighs to her back until I have her shoulders firmly in my grasp. She leans into me, and I’m on the verge of fucking begging her to finally let me in, just a tiny bit. “Of what, Liora?” I whisper again, gently pushing her blonde locks behind her shoulders to reveal her beautiful face.

“Of you telling me I’m too much. Of you leaving. Of you giving me hope that I can have it all and crush it once you know the truth about me.”

I kiss her cheek. “I know words alone won’t convince you because I need to show you. But this will take time. No matter how hard you push, I’ll keep coming back. I’ve never felt as stable as I do with you. The way you make me feel, Liora, it’s all I need, and I’m dying to give it back to you.”

She cries and I hug her tighter. “How about we try baby steps? I want to prove myself to you.”

She falls around my neck, and I gently cup the back of her head, my fingers threading through her hair. I’m so glad I’m not the stupid idiot I was years ago. Past Riley wouldn’t have run after Liora. His ego was too big for that. But this is about her finding a way out of this dark tunnel she’s in.

“My coach,” she starts, and I sigh in relief that she’s willing to let me in a step, “and I had a relationship.”

She looks up at me, as if that’s enough for me to judge her but I nod, showing her that I don’t care about which men she loved before me. I’m careful to not let any emotions show.

“Sandy was everything to me. He found me in Hungary when I won the championships. He visited Europe that year, scouting here and there, and he saw me and got my family to America, and in no time, I was an American citizen with an American passport, working all day every day to get into the Olympics. When I won gold in South Korea, I was only fifteen and that’s when I fell for him. He was twenty-five.”ConTEent bel0ngs to Nôv(e)lD/rama(.)Org .

My stomach drops.

“There wasn’t anything happening until I turned eighteen, but he did flirt with me. He groomed me. I didn’t realize that back then, but I always found him attractive. I had such a crush on him. It’s embarrassing just thinking about it now.”

She swallows and I can tell it’s hard for her to tell me. The shame in her eyes is so visible, and I want nothing more than to ease it for her. But for now, I can only listen closely to whatever she chooses to share. She’s started opening up, and that’s all I need. Her trust is a crucial step, and I’ll cherish every bit she’s willing to give.

“I didn’t go to school. My only friends were my mother and Sandy. He wouldn’t let me have any other friends because our sole focus was winning every championship. I spoke to other skaters, but I always saw them as rivals. Sandy became the center of my world. I never told my mom that I had these daydreams about my coach, how my thoughts would always drift to him in a way that felt more than just a crush for years.”

“And your father?”

“There’s not much about him. He was an ass. I guess I was looking for some fatherly approval, and I got it from Sandy. I desperately wanted to be his perfect girl and wanted to believe so desperately that his wife wasn’t good to him. I painted her as the villain, even though I was trying to steal her man. I still feel so bad, Riley. I was the worst.”

There’s another tear running down her cheek and I can’t forget that sight of her before me. It feels so raw. With the beach behind her, her kneeling in the sand, in this light dress, the moon reflecting on her hair.

“You’re not the worst,” I say, kissing her cheek. “You were a kid.”

Amid her tears, she lets out a hiccupping sob, her breaths coming in uneven, staccato bursts now. This is breaking my heart. “I started to wear makeup even to rehearsals, I got so jealous of his wife, his kids. I did everything that he wanted me to, and I grew up. I wasn’t his little girl anymore. I feel so stupid…”

“Don’t,” I say, “really, don’t.”

“No. I was stupid.” She glances at her fingers, kneading them.

I shake my head. “Lia, you idealized him and probably mistook your own feelings.”

“I think I wanted a father, but mine was treating my mom so badly that I dreamed of killing him. I cherished the moments we weren’t at home. When Mom, Sandy, and I drove through the states, heading to championships. I loved spending all hours of the day on the rink, trying to be perfect for Sandy. For that smile of his. For a hug, later for a kiss on my cheek, or on my forehead, and then on my mouth.”

She avoids my gaze, and though the darkness is thick and only the moonlight illuminates her face, I can still see the flush of shame on her cheeks, and it cuts me deeply. I gently cradle her chin between my thumb and forefinger, guiding her to look at me. When our eyes finally meet, the pain in her eyes shatters me. She gazes at me with the fearful expectation that I might walk away simply because she had an affair with her former coach.

“It’s okay,” I say.

“I feel so bad,” she says, her voice barely a whisper.

“Don’t. It’s okay, Lia. It’s normal for teenagers to fall hard for someone. It happens, even if it shouldn’t.”

She shakes her head. “Once I turned eighteen, it was the year before Beijing. My second Olympics. I had the best sponsors, everyone was counting on me, and I was head over heels for Sandy. Our affair started some weeks after my birthday. He was the first man who ever touched me, the first man to have sex with me, and I was so in love—or I think I was—but it was one sided, because after training, after he called me his perfect girl on the rink and behind the lockers, he went home to his wife. He never said he’d leave her, never told me he loved me, but I wanted to believe it. I wanted it so bad, Riley.”

That’s when a tear escapes and trails down her cheek, and I catch it with my thumb. I press a gentle kiss to her temple and pull her closer, holding her tightly. She nestles against me, her breath warm and soothing against my neck.

“At some point I realized I didn’t really love him. I just wanted his approval so badly because my own father was absent when I needed him the most. Eventually, Mom and I got Dad out of our lives, and that made me stronger. I knew I could help myself, and I was planning to leave Sandy after Beijing. I just needed that gold first and that’s what I focused on.”

There’s a pause and she sighs deeply.

“Thank you,” I say once I’m sure she’s done. “Thank you for sharing that with me. Now I know that whenever my father brings up his so-called friend, I’ll do everything I can to stop him. I won’t let you get dragged into that again, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And just to be clear. We’re not fake dating. We’re dating now and I’ll finally burn that contract.”

She huffs out a laugh and nods. “Yes, we’re dating.”

She nods, and we share a kiss. It’s gentle and unhurried, unlike the heated ones we usually have. This kiss is slow and tender, filled with so much emotion that I hope she’ll realize I’m not the only one who’s fallen in love. But I’ve already pushed too much, so I take her back to the pool house.

But once I flick on the light, the full weight of her sadness hits me.

The night had hidden her tear-streaked face and puffy eyes, but now they’re all too visible. Without saying a word, I help her out of her dress and into her silky pajamas. Once she’s settled, I press a tender kiss to her forehead.

She brushes her teeth while I turn on the soft, calming light beside our bed and find the book she brought with her.

It’s called Moonlit Desires. She’d mentioned Priya lent it to her, and when I skim the blurb about five werewolves falling for the same girl, I can’t help but chuckle softly. It’s a bit surprising, seeing Priya’s taste in books take this turn, but to each their own.

“You’re planning to read that?” she asks, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Definitely,” I say just to keep that smile a little longer. “But only if you’re right here with me.”

I hop onto the bed and hold the blanket open, inviting her to snuggle under it.

She flashes a full grin now and snuggles up against me, her body soft and warm as she rests her head on my chest. I wrap the blanket around us both, then hold up the book so we can both read.

“Get ready for the best bedtime story you’ve ever had,” I tease. “I’m the perfect narrator.”

“I can’t wait for you to read the knotting scene out loud.”

“The what?”

“Oh, my sweet summer child.”