Gulf City High: The Complete Sweet Small Town Romance Series

By Michelle MacQueen

Welcome to Gulf City, the eclectic beach town with a losing hockey team, mostly mediocre surfing days, and a love of the local ranch and their horses. 

Dive into this four book set full of swoony sweet romances, cute hockey players, and cocky surfers. Perfect for fans of Kasie West. 

 

Jesse and the Ice Princess: 

An ice princess doesn't fall for the hockey captain's charm.

The hockey team has one rule. Don't date the coach's daughter. An easy rule to follow when said girl, Charlotte, has only one focus. Figure skating. 

But they haven't won a game all season and Jesse Carrigan wants to give the team a chance against their biggest rivals. Even if that means orchestrating a detention for Charlotte and a punishment that includes helping his teammates with skating drills.

Torn between two sports, Charlotte must figure out if giving up her new love of hockey means losing Jesse as well.  

 

Roman and the Hopeless Romantic:

Hopeless romantics don't fall for the playboy's charm. 

Cassandra has known Roman all her life. She's watched his string of girlfriends come and go, but one thing has never changed. He's always been there for her, for her family. As her brother's best friend, he's never far. 

When Roman's parents announce they're moving abroad, he refuses to go, instead choosing to move in with Cassandra's family to finish the school year. It was hard enough when he lived across town. 

It's only a matter of time before she does something she'll regret. 

Like kissing him. 

And possibly falling in love with him. 

 

Spencer and the Younger Girl:

Popular high school girls don't fall for the cowboy's charm.

As a member of the Gulf City elite, Hadley spends her days going to school and then laying on the beach near her million-dollar house. But money can't buy happiness. 

A school prank gone wrong lands her with a week-long suspension, a cancelled spring break trip, and a stint as forced labor at the local Lee Ranch. That last bit, she deserved. She did "borrow" their goats, after all. 

Spencer Lee, the prodigal son returned, is working the ranch to make amends with his family, and he thinks the rich younger girl will only get in his way. 

Hadley is determined to prove him wrong. 

 

Nate and the Invisible Girl:

Invisible girls don't fall for the charms of the boy who left them behind. 

Sam didn't miss Nate. That was what she told herself when he left ten years ago. 

Since then, she's watched the world through her camera lens, always at a distance. 

After a dangerous mishap in a surfing competition, Nate returns to the home he knew as a kid to find siblings who haven't forgiven him and a friend who no longer knows him. Yet, he's the same old Nate. The one who looks at Sam like she matters, like there's nothing wrong with her despite the cane she carries. 

For the first time in a while, Sam starts coming out from behind her camera. With Nate, she can't just take the pictures. It's time to be a part of them. 

 

Lose yourself in a sweet and clean romance series with moving characters and inspirational stories.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michelle MacQueen
• Release date: Apr 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201249625

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Contents

Book 1: Jesse and the Ice Princess

1. Jesse

2. Charlotte

3. Jesse

4. Charlotte

5. Jesse

6. Charlotte

7. Jesse

8. Charlotte

9. Jesse

10. Charlotte

11. Jesse

12. Charlotte

13. Jesse

14. Charlotte

15. Jesse

16. Charlotte

17. Jesse

18. Charlotte

19. Jesse

20. Charlotte

21. Jesse

22. Charlotte

Book 2: Roman and the Hopeless Romantic

1. Cassie

2. Roman

3. Cassie

4. Roman

5. Cassie

6. Roman

7. Cassie

8. Roman

9. Cassie

10. Roman

11. Cassie

12. Roman

13. Cassie

14. Roman

15. Cassie

16. Roman

17. Cassie

18. Roman

19. Cassie

20. Roman

21. Cassie

22. Roman

23. Cassie

24. Roman

25. Cassie

26. Roman

Book 3: Spencer and the Younger Girl

1. Spencer

2. Hadley

3. Spencer

4. Hadley

5. Spencer

6. Hadley

7. Spencer

8. Hadley

9. Spencer

10. Hadley

11. Spencer

12. Hadley

13. Spencer

14. Hadley

15. Spencer

16. Hadley

17. Spencer

18. Hadley

19. Spencer

20. Hadley

21. Spencer

22. Hadley

23. Spencer

24. Hadley

25. Spencer

Book 4: Nate and the Invisible Girl

1. Sam

2. Nate

3. Sam

4. Nate

5. Sam

6. Nate

7. Sam

8. Nate

9. Sam

10. Nate

11. Sam

12. Nate

13. Sam

14. Nate

15. Sam

16. Nate

17. Sam

18. Nate

19. Sam

20. Nate

21. Nate

22. Sam

23. Nate

Epilogue

What’s Next?

We Thought We Were Invincible

A Note From Michelle

About Michelle

2020 Michelle MacQueen

All rights reserved.

---

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons is entirely coincidental.

---

This book or any portion thereof

may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Printed in the United States of America

---

Editing by Melissa Craven

Proof Editing by Caitlin Haines

This one is for hockey. Love of the sport has gotten me through the difficult parts of life.

Book 1: Jesse and the Ice Princess

1

Jesse

J esse King Carrigan skates in, slowing to weave around defenders as if they mean nothing to him. It's just him and the goalie, no one else standing in the way of the glorious Stanley Cup. He pulls back and releases a slapper from the left dot. Score! The puck hit the back of the empty net, and Jesse's arms shot into the air as he yelled and skated around the deserted rink.

A grin stretched across his face as imaginary sounds from the crowd crashed down around him.

You're ridiculous. The only actual person present laughed from her perch on the half-wall near the bench.

Jesse turned his grin on his sister, not stopping his victory lap. You're just jealous, he shouted. Not everyone gets to score the winning goal in the Stanley Cup final.

She lifted a brow. In your dreams, bro. Hopping off the wall, she walked across the ice in her tennis shoes.

Jesse had been trying to get her in skates for years, but Cassandra Carrigan wasn't one for joining. He’d promised no one would be at the rink this early on a Saturday morning and that was the only reason she showed up.

Jesse skated toward her, not looking at his feet as the front of his skate hit a rut. He couldn't stop the momentum as his legs flew out from under him, and his butt slammed into the ice.

Cassie crossed her arms over her chest and smirked down at him. Real smooth, Jess.

Just practicing my falling skills. He shrugged as he brushed ice from his jeans. You know, so it doesn't hurt when it happens in a game.

Didn't they teach you how to fall in intro to skating when you were like five? You know the one thing that's more painful than playing hockey?

He pushed himself to his feet and looked down at his sister, knowing where she was going with this. He didn't ask.

She answered her own question, anyway. Having to watch you play.

Not cool, dude. He wrapped his arms around her waist before she could stop him. She squealed but couldn't break free as he picked her up and pumped his legs, gaining speed.

Put me down, Jesse! She had a death-grip on his arms.

Say please.

Please.

Say you didn't mean it. That our team is awesome.

Jesse. She grimaced as he finished one lap around the ice. I won't lie for you.

He kept skating, a grin cracking his lips as his sister squeezed her eyes shut. A year younger than Jesse's eighteen, she couldn't have been more different. There wasn't a risk-taking bone in her body, at least not anymore.

They’d switched places over the last two years with Cass preferring safety and Jesse going for the risk.

Fine, she yelled. The Gulf City Hurricanes are the best thing to ever happen to hockey. Happy now?

He slowed and lowered her feet to the ice. That'll do.

The things I say for you. She shook her head and crossed the ice again, pulling herself back up to sit on the half-wall.

Jesse retrieved his stick and tapped it against the wall near her feet. We do kind of suck, don't we? The joking gone from his voice, he sighed.

That question sounds like a trap.

It’s not.

Well... She paused. Then yeah, you guys kind of make my eyes bleed.

Thanks for the imagery.

I live to please.

Jesse laughed, but he couldn't get her words out of his head. The Hurricanes hadn't always been bad. When he made the team as the only freshman, they won the league. Now, in his senior year, the season was almost halfway over, and they had yet to win a game.

We have to do something.

Cass narrowed her eyes. Who is this 'we' you're talking about? You remember who I am, right?

He did. Cassandra Carrigan didn't do people. In fact, she avoided them at all costs. Two years ago, she’d been walking in downtown Tampa with their parents when a gunman shot their mom. She'd watched their mother die in front of her, and since then, she refused to go out in public. Two years of taking high school classes online and staying in the house had turned her into a hermit.

Jesse never pushed her, but he invited her to the rink whenever he was sure it would be relatively empty. She watched his games, but from the safety of her bedroom on a delayed stream.

He shook thoughts of his mom and that awful day away. Okay, I need to do something about it. It's my last year of playing. I can't let us go down in such dramatic flames.

She kicked her feet against the wall. It's not like you can suddenly teach these guys how not to fall on their butts.

No, but there has to be something. His team shouldn't be as bad as they were. They played in top-notch facilities owned by their coach. He lifted his eyes to the rafters where old team banners hung. Their coach played for a decade in the NHL, and he couldn’t even whip them into shape.

I think the guys need a bit of tough love. I'd basically pay you to go all captain on Roman.

Roman? He laughed. He and Damien are the only guys on the team who can put the puck in the back of the net. Besides me, of course.

So humble, brother.

He grinned. Most people just thought of Cassie as the golden boy's weird sister, but she was his best friend. Everyone else would love her too, if they got a chance to get to know her.

Living in Gulf City, Florida was like living in a fish bowl. Everyone knew everything about their neighbors. Locals glommed together to withstand the tourist seasons. It had its benefits, to be so close to everyone you grew up with, but for anyone different, it wasn't such a good thing.

He wanted an easier life for his sister, just like he wanted his team to win a game. One.

But neither seemed possible.

Think we should get home? Cass hopped off the wall.

Jesse’s shoulders dropped. Probably. Dad said he had to work today, so Will and Eli are probably driving him up a wall.

The twins were six when they lost their mom. Jesse didn't know if that made it easier for them, or if it was better to have both the years of memories and the grief.

Since that day, their family changed in more ways than just losing a mom. Jesse loved his dad and was grateful he provided for them, but he put all of his grief into his work and never quite came back from it. As a high-profile lawyer, his clients were demanding.

His kids tried to be less so.

Jesse took care of his siblings when he could. Sometimes he was all they had. He was lucky to have Cass and Mary—the twins’ part-time caretaker.

Yo, Jess! Roman's voice boomed across the ice. The tall, blond boy waved from his spot near the tunnel to the locker rooms.

Cassie went still. She knew Roman, Jessie's best friend. He’d once been her friend too, yet she rarely spoke to him … or anyone else anymore.

You okay? Jesse asked. It was a question he knew bothered his sister because she never wanted to answer it. Yet, he worried about her, and that would never change.

She nodded.

He gave her a long look before skating across the ice. Rome, man. They bumped fists as they'd done a million times before in their lives. What are you doing here?

Lifting in the weight room. He shrugged. Have to keep my strength up. For what, neither of them knew. Even his optimistic best friend knew their hockey season was toast.

Some of us are actually preparing for the next hockey game.

He flashed his teeth in a half-smirk, half-smile thing Roman was good at. Good on you, man. Still trying.

Jesse bristled at that. Of course, he was still trying. The season wasn't over yet. He reached out and shoved Roman back. You just know you won't get better no matter how hard you practice.

Roman grinned. That a challenge, pretty boy? He'd been calling Jesse pretty boy since the girls started fawning over his long lashes and bright blue eyes when he was barely a teenager.

Jesse gestured to the ice. Be my guest.

I'll go get my skates. He turned back into the tunnel.

Jesse skated back to where Cassie still stood. He's going to shoot around with me.

She made a sound in the back of her throat but didn't utter a word.

Go ahead. Jesse knew her too well.

Why do you insist on keeping him around?

You don't like Rome? He pursed his lips. Everyone liked Roman Sullivan—including the old Cassie. But he shouldn't expect this new version of Cass to be like everyone else. I'll tell him to leave.

Something tells me you're going to be the one leaving. She nodded toward a very angry looking girl marching toward the ice, her figure skates digging into the rubber flooring.

Jesse Carrigan, she huffed. Do you know how to read?

He swallowed heavily as he always did when faced with Charlotte Morrison, the gorgeous daughter of Coach Morrison and most forbidden girl in the entire school.

He couldn’t take his gaze from the storm building in her eyes.

2

Charlotte

D o you know how to read?

As soon as the words left Charlotte's mouth, she wanted them back. They sounded like an insult from a five-year-old.

Who the heck says stuff like that? Apparently, she did.

She'd arrived at the rink for her early morning session as she’d been doing every Saturday for as long as she could remember. But there he was, messing up her ice. Ice she'd expected to find smooth and waiting for her to make the first grooves.

The kids at her school—athletes in particular—thought the world owed them. They didn't work for their privileged lives. Sure, her parents provided everything she needed, but she couldn't remember ever not working toward something greater, whether she wanted to or not.

Do you speak? she snapped, annoyed Jesse stood there gaping at her. At school, they called him the king because his middle name was King, but also because he was at the top of the food chain. She didn't know why. He was a somewhat capable forward on her dad's losing hockey team. Not something to brag about.

It wasn't like he'd medalled in every competition he'd entered since he was nine. Oh, wait, that was her.

Jesse seemed to recover from his brief moment of stupidity—if that was even possible. A smile spread across his lips, charm oozing out of his every pore.

Why, if it isn't my favorite Charlie.

That's not my name. She sat on the bench and bent to remove her skate guards.

For the record, I can read just as well as anyone else.

The girl dirtying the ice with her street shoes snorted, and Jesse threw her a playful scowl.

Whoever she was, Charlie pitied her. Jesse Carrigan never dated anyone for long. She tried to put a name to the face, but she'd never seen the girl before. If she had, she'd remember. Dark hair that matched the shade of Jesse's and wide innocent eyes. Both aggravatingly attractive. Yeah, they looked good together.

Charlotte pulled out her phone and opened the rink's app her dad created. Simple, yet effective. She tapped the calendar for the rink's schedule and held it out for Jesse to see, pointing to the screen. Saturday, January third—Charlotte Morrison.

He leaned his stick against the boards. Oh, I don't look at that thing.

Of course, he didn't. She sighed. Jesse Carrigan wouldn't care if he inconvenienced anyone else. Most people would move aside for him and let him have his way.

Charlotte was not most people.

She skated out onto the ice and looked back at him. You can go now.

What? Why? We can share the ice. I promise I don't bite.

The unknown girl coughed, and Charlotte would have sworn it sounded like hopeless.

Whistling came from the tunnel moments before Roman Sullivan appeared. Great, just what she needed. Another jock.

Roman stopped when he saw her. We playing two on two? He grinned. Come on. Cass can be on my team. Jesse you take the ice princess over there.

Charlotte turned her back on them, skating a lap around the rink. She wouldn't let them see her react to their names. Ice princess wasn't anything new. The kids at school made it no secret what they thought of her. Only her friend, Hadley, understood her drive.

She turned down every invitation to a party, every date, not because she wanted to, but because she had to. Her mother wouldn't have it any other way.

Charlotte tried to ignore the three people watching her as she picked up speed, losing herself in the familiar feel of the ice beneath her feet. It didn't give her excitement, not anymore, but there was comfort in the act.

Maybe comfort was enough.

She finished her first lap and came to a stop, spraying ice toward Jesse. He didn't react. Instead, he studied her. Your skating... it's so smooth.

Smooth? Real creative. You've been living under a rock, Carrigan. She turned away from him once more. I'm better than smooth. She'd never doubted her skating. It was the one area of her life she felt confident, in charge. Without skates on her feet, all of that faded away, leaving only a shy girl behind.

Roman howled in laughter behind her, but it cut off as another voice entered the rink.

It's time you leave. Grace Morrison always knew how to make an entrance.

Charlotte closed her eyes for a brief moment. She thought she'd had more time before her mom showed up for their training session.

Yes, Charlotte Ann Morrison spent every morning training with her mom. Normally, that didn't bother her, but the kids at school would now think she was an even bigger loser than they already did. She looped back around to where her mom stood.

Mrs. Morrison. Jesse smiled. It's nice to see you.

Her expression softened, and Charlotte rolled her eyes. If anyone was an ice princess, it was the former ice champion, Grace Morrison. Yet, even she was putty in Jesse's hands.

Jesse, I'm sorry to say we have this rink reserved this morning. She offered him an apologetic smile. The woman was never apologetic.

That's not a problem, ma'am. I was just telling Charlotte here how much I admire her technique.

Well, that's very nice of you, young man. My husband is very fond of you.

He's a great coach. It's an honor to play on his team.

Charlotte stifled the urge to roll her eyes again. A lady never rolls her eyes, her mother would say. Jesse was honored to play on her father's losing team?

Mom. She crossed her arms over her blue sweatshirt. Training was the only time she was allowed to dress so casually, and she hated anyone seeing her like this.

Her mom glanced up as if she finally saw her daughter. Well, we must get our session started. You have a lovely day, Jesse.

You as well, ma'am.

Oh, none of that. Call me Grace.

Jesse nodded, flashing a final smile Charlotte's way before draping his arm over his girlfriend’s shoulders and leading her and Roman down the tunnel to the locker rooms.

Her mother's kind expression dropped. Start your laps.

Charlotte sighed and took off. Her life was a series of training sessions, diets, and nights at home in their silent house. She didn't have any siblings, so she received her mother’s undivided attention.

Her mom wanted Charlotte to become a clone of the young Grace Morrison who won two national skating titles and would have gone to the Olympics if not for an injury.

Charlotte was never going to the Olympics, but she traveled around the surrounding states, stealing podiums. She didn't know when it stopped meaning anything to her.

Maybe when she started senior year of high school and realized she barely remembered anything from the previous three years. No dances. No pep rallies. No boyfriends. Few friends.

Only an endless loop on her parents' rink.

She went through the training session like a robot, pulling off every move her mother called for with precision but little heart. It would be enough to medal in the small competitions she entered.

But the reason she'd never go further? The word that held her back from nationals and beyond?

Love.

In a way, she envied the boys on the losing hockey team. Only people who loved their sport could stick out a season like that. She'd been to every one of their games—at her dad’s insistence—and watched them celebrate the few good plays as if they mattered more than the wins.

Maybe they did.

She lifted her eyes to the back wall where a picture of her dad in all his hockey gear hung. He'd spent his entire career chasing the cup and never got the chance to lift it.

Yet, he couldn't stay away from the game. She saw it in the excitement in his eyes whenever he stood behind the bench during a game. Heck, the man had synthetic ice installed in their basement wide enough for a shooting lane with a hockey net at the far end.

Charlotte pulled her sweatshirt off over her head and tossed it onto the bench as she zoomed by. She dipped down low, skimming her fingers along the cold surface, trying to remember why she'd been so enthralled by the sport as a kid. Straightening her knees, she rolled her head to stretch her neck.

She used to watch hours of video showcasing the best figure skaters in the world. But that was then. People grow up. They move on.

Unless they're not allowed to.

She didn't want to think about Jesse Carrigan, but she couldn't help wondering if he knew how lucky he was.

No one expected anything of him except a charming smile. There was no pressure to win—obviously—and no push toward perfection.

Charlotte, her mom called. Straighten up. You won't win anything with posture like that.

Charlotte pulled her shoulders back and lifted her chin in the way her mom taught her. Her blond braid brushed the back of her neck, and she blew bangs out of her eyes.

Don't slouch.

Always look your best.

Pretend someone is always watching.

Never strive for mediocre.

Words Charlotte had no choice but to live by.

She'd give anything just for one day in someone else's life.

3

Jesse

I 'm telling you, Jess, that girl is cute. Roman shouldered his way into Jesse's house without knocking.

Jesse followed behind him as he lifted the bottom of his shirt to wipe sweat off his face. Knock it off, man. She's Coach's daughter. All he'd heard from Roman since they ran into Charlotte at the rink was how good she looked when she relaxed her appearance. At school, she wore pressed skirts and expensive sweaters. She never had a hair out of place. She was like a china doll, one could admire her beauty, but it wasn't accessible.

Jesse would never use the word cute to describe her. Beautiful, yes. But cute held a different meaning, one with some kind of warm feeling behind it.

Something slammed into Jesse's legs and he looked down at the top of his little brother's shaggy head. Slow down, Will.

Will grinned up at him, showing the gaps where he’d lost teeth. His breath whistled through the holes, a talent he'd acquired over winter break. Sorry, Jess. Eli was chasing me.

Sure enough, Jesse glanced down the hall to where the identical Eli ran at them with a Nerf gun. He aimed high, and Jesse ducked before the dart hit him in the head.

A laugh rumbled low in his throat, and he lunged like he was going to run after the boys. They squealed and took off to another part of the house.

Roman shook his head. I don't know how you tell those two apart. They're tiny, identical, eight-year-old monsters.

Jesse shrugged. It's not that hard. I look at them and just know who is who. A talent not even his dad always possessed. Cassie was the only other person who could tell the boys apart as easily as Jesse.

A door in the hall opened and Jesse's dad appeared, his glasses crooked on his face. Jesse, you're back. Thank heaven. Those boys... I wish Mary would consider working for us full time. He shook his head, a tired smile forming on his face.

Carl Carrigan put up with a lot from his four children. As a single parent, he did the best he could when he wasn't working on a case.

Jesse couldn't even take a half-hour long run without the house turning into chaos. It was a good thing he loved chaos. She has a family of her own. I've got them, Dad. You can go back to work. I'll go start dinner.

He rubbed his eyes. Is it that time already?

Jesse only laughed as he led Roman down the hall into the kitchen. Dishes lay scattered across the counter with various bits of food on them. A package of crackers spilled across the floor. His brothers must have tried to get a snack.

Without being asked, Roman started loading dishes into the dishwasher. That was why he was Jesse's best friend. He just got it.

Jesse started browning meat for tacos, his dad's favorite.

She sure hates you. Roman finished cleaning the counter and wiped it down.

Who?

The ice princess.

Do I care?

Roman hopped up to sit on the now clean counter and grinned. It's a lot of anger for such a small package.

No one would ever call Charlotte Morrison tall. Her diminutive frame only added to her air of break-ability.

Why are we still talking about her? Jesse dug in the fridge for a half-chopped onion and threw it to Roman. Make yourself useful.

Roman got down and found a cutting board and knife. We're still talking about her because she seems to have it in for you. It doesn't help that her mom was eating out of the palm of your hand.

She was just being nice.

He laughed. People fall for your charm, and you always think it's nothing. No one is that nice to me.

Jesse pointed the spatula at him. That's because you say stupid things. Besides, I don't use charm.

Roman barked out a laugh. Yeah, okay.

Jesse's mom brought him up to be kind to everyone. He didn't like the idea people considered that to be charm. Charming someone meant trying to get something out of them. He was just polite.

Am I not allowed to be a nice guy?

Roman slid the onions from the cutting board into the frying pan before reaching for a tomato. He tossed it into the air and caught it. You're Jesse the king Carrigan. You can be whatever you want.

You know I don't like that nickname. I'm not the king of anything.

Au contraire, mon ami.

Roman dated a French student sophomore year and now threw out French phrases randomly. Jesse used to think it was funny for a guy who could barely speak his own language.

You're obnoxious, Rome.

Want me to prove your kingship? He waggled his eyebrows. I could call half the girls in the school right now and ask them to come here to hang with you. They would.

That doesn't prove anything other than the fact I treat them better than the rest of you fools.

No, actually, you don't. He tapped his chin, smearing tomato juice on it. Katrina. Sasha. Emily. Olivia. Need I go on?

No. Jesse's jaw clenched. His friend wasn't wrong. He'd had a lot of girlfriends in his high school career, and he'd hurt each of them when he moved on, looking for something he was sure he hadn’t found yet. His record for a relationship was two months.

See. Roman waved the knife in Jesse's face. You don't have your nickname because of how nice you are. You're the star of the hockey team—

A team that doesn't win.

Do you think that matters? When we tell people in the future that we grew up playing hockey, do you think they'll ask what our record was?

Jesse sighed. No. But he wanted more. Just once this year, he wanted to blast victory music in the locker room and have the town know they weren't complete failures.

Roman wasn't one to give up. Let's circle back around to Mrs. Morrison. Did you see how she treated Charlotte?

He did. As they'd walked down the tunnel, Mrs. Morrison barked orders at Charlotte like a drill sergeant. It was hard to reconcile Charlotte and her mom with the happy guy he knew as his coach.

Maybe that's why she hates you.

Who hates Jesse? Will asked, running in to steal a piece of tomato from the counter.

No one, kiddo. Jesse ruffled his hair.

Roman leaned down. The coach's daughter.

Will's eyes rounded. Why would she hate you? He said it like it was the most impossible scenario he could imagine. His big brother wasn't perfect.

It's nothing, Will. Go set the table, yeah? He turned to Roman. You eating with us?

I cooked, so yeah.

Dude, you chopped. I cooked.

Potato, potahto.

Jesse shoved him. Go help Will. He can supervise you.

Low blow, Carrigan. Roman backed away until he shoved open the door with his foot.

Jesse turned back to the meat and stirred in the seasoning. He couldn't imagine having a mom yell at him like that. He remembered his mom as the kindest person he knew. His dad might struggle with distractions, and he was mentally absent in some ways, but he loved his kids.

He refused to allow his brothers and sister to grow up without someone looking out for them, so he'd assumed the role. But he would never order them around or treat them like they didn't matter.

Was there someone telling Charlotte Morrison she mattered?

He drained the meat and tried to shake the icy glare of Coach's daughter from his mind. He'd always found something so lonely about her. Coach bragged to the team about each medal his daughter won, but he was too busy coaching them and running the Gulf City rink to attend her competitions. He'd once admitted as much to Jesse during one of their many heart-to-hearts.

Cassie appeared, not saying a word to him as she gathered the rest of the taco ingredients from the fridge. When it was just the family, she relaxed and talked with them. But whenever anyone—especially Roman—ate dinner at their house, she retreated into herself.

Thinking of Charlotte and the harsh words he'd heard from her mom, he sidled up beside his sister. In a way, she'd been the only person to go through his mom's death with him. The twins were too young, and their dad didn't let his kids in on his grief.

Cassie looked up at him. What?

You know I love you, right? He never wanted her to forget it. Just because their mom was gone didn't mean she didn't have someone looking out for her.

She stuck a tortilla chip in her mouth, her eyes narrowing as she stared at him. Finally, she swallowed and turned to walk into the dining room. Weirdo.

But a weirdo who loves you, he called after her.

You can stop now.

He grinned as she disappeared from view. Would the kids at school call him the king if they knew he spent his spare time playing Betty Crocker and helping his brothers with homework?

And what if they knew he didn't hate it?

His family was everything to Jesse. Maybe it was a byproduct of losing his mom, but he held onto them tightly, afraid they'd slip through his grasp.

Only Roman knew what it was like in this house. He re-entered the kitchen. Dude, I love eating at your house.

Why?

Well, your brothers are currently using glass plates as shields against each other's Nerf darts. Your dad just came out of his office with his glasses upside down—and I don't think he even noticed. Then there's your sister. Cassie is sending me her beautiful death glares.

Don't push Cass.

He held his hands up in surrender. Wouldn't dream of it. The Carrigan chaos beats the silence at my house any day. I'd never do anything to wear out my welcome here.

Jesse grabbed the bowl of meat and handed Roman the tray of shells. As they entered the dining room, a plate shattered against the floor.

Will and Eli both froze, matching oops expressions on their faces.

Jesse pointed to their empty seats. Sit. Both boys obeyed him. Cass got up, returning a moment later to slide a new plate in front of Will before bending to pick up the glass shards.

Silence hung over the room until Cass finished cleaning up the mess.

Well, Jesse said. Dinner is served.

He sat in his seat at the opposite end from his dad.

Thanks for cooking, Jess. The relief on his dad's face at having the task taken from him yet again was enough thanks for Jesse.

He scanned the hungry faces of his younger brothers and the quiet contemplation of his sister. Winter break ended tomorrow, and his final semester of high school would begin.

All the people he knew in his class talked endlessly about the schools they'd been accepted to. Most couldn't wait to get out. But Jesse had never regretted his decision to stay home and go to USF in Tampa, less than an hour away.

He wasn't ready to leave this yet, and they weren't ready for him to leave.

4

Charlotte

The only thing Charlotte Morrison wanted was to get out of Gulf City, to leave her home and discover something else in life. She certainly didn't want to walk into the concrete prison in front of her.

High school.

Hurricanes was painted on the side of the lower level of the blue structure, and pavers crisscrossed open lawns stretching toward the glass double doors.

Hey, girl. Hadley stepped up beside her, an ally in the war zone that was Gulf City High.

Only a few more months, Hads. She sighed and started forward.

Hadley walked with a bounce as she always did, showing the early morning energy none of the rest of them had. They made an odd pair. Charlotte was the short girl in a flowing red skirt that reached her knees and a sweater. Her honey-brown hair was pulled back into her usual braid.

Hadley, on the other hand, wore a pair of sweatpants with the school name down her long leg. A zip up sweatshirt hung open over a Tampa Bay Lightning t-shirt. The girl loved hockey almost as much as Charlotte's dad. Her blond hair sat in a messy bun on the top of her head.

She wasn't the right kind of girl, according to Grace Morrison. Maybe that was what drew Charlotte to her when they were in middle school. She was so different from Charlotte's prim and proper life.

The ironic thing was, Hadley lived in a better part of Gulf City, the McMansion-dotted Wentworth neighborhood. She just didn’t flaunt her family’s wealth, or care about it at all.

Hadley looped her arm with Charlotte's. So, my little Charlie, how was winter break? And if you tell me you spent the entire time training, I'm going to stab my eyes out.

One corner of Charlotte's mouth curved up. Her best friend was always dramatic. Well, wouldn't want you going blind. I just won't tell you.

She pushed through the front door, dragging Charlotte into the wide entryway of the school already teeming with students. Anyone ever tell you you're hopeless?

I prefer driven.

Boring.

Determined.

Hadley leveled her with a stare. Charlotte Morrison, if you don't have fun with me soon, I think I'm going to cry.

No, you're not.

Fine, but I will drag you kicking and screaming to the rink.

Charlotte laughed. I'm already there all the time, anyway.

Oh no, no-no. We aren't going to work on your twirly dos and spinoramas.

They have names, but go on making fun.

Hadley gasped and turned to Charlotte. I would never. You know it's wicked cool what you do, right?

She shrugged. To her, it was just life.

Hadley gripped her upper arms. You, dear Charlie, are amazing. She was the only person other than Charlotte's dad who called her Charlie. But, all work and no play—

Don't finish that. I'm not dull.

Hadley flashed a grin. Sure thing, Ice Princess. She'd always found the nickname Charlotte's classmates had given her to be hilarious. Charlotte didn't mind when Hadley said it, but a few days ago when it left the lips of Jesse Carrigan, it stung.

Charlotte pushed her arms away. So, you said you wanted to go to the rink with me?

Do you trust me?

Sure?

You didn't sound too confident, but I'll take it. On Friday, tell your mom you're staying at my house. Oh, and bring your dad's keys to the rink. She flashed a final grin before bouncing toward her locker.

Hadley Gibson was going to get her into a lot of trouble. And somehow, Charlotte didn't care. Her friend was right. She didn't want to graduate in a few months and realize she'd never had an ounce of fun.

Someone bumped into Charlotte but didn't even look her way as they kept walking. She lifted her chin and walked down the hall as if none of these kids bothered her, as if she didn't care one bit for them or what they thought of her.

They wanted an ice princess, and she was good at giving it to them.

Slipping her books under her arm, she spun the dial on her locker. Only clear backpacks were allowed in the halls of Gulf City High, so most students chose not to carry them at all. She shoved her books inside the locker, only keeping her Chem book with her.

Hadley appeared, ready to walk to their first class. It was the only one they had together.

In the science wing, Jesse Carrigan and Roman Sullivan stood outside the door to the lab, people crowded around them. Girls, boys, no one seemed to be able to get enough of the braindead twins.

Hadley shouldered her way through the crowd, creating a path for Charlotte. Once they were safe inside, they sat behind their normal lab table at the front of the room. Around them, students filtered in, talking continuously.

Charlotte was not a talker. She preferred to listen. It was probably a result of being brought up in such a quiet house.

Ladies. Roman appeared before them, rapping his knuckles against their table. He flashed them a grin as if he expected them to fall at his feet.

Hadley blushed as if she wanted to. What's up, Rome? She leaned forward resting her chin in her hand. You have a good break?

His grin widened. It was delicious.

Delicious? What did that even mean? Charlotte scowled. That makes no sense.

Hadley kicked her under the table. She means it sounds fun.

He laughed. Yeah, sure. Then he moved on to talk to a couple of girls at the next table who might actually swoon over him.

What is your problem? Hadley hissed.

Roman Sullivan is a jerk.

What did he say that was jerk-like? She shook her head. Those boys... She nodded to where Roman had joined Jesse. Come on, even you have to admit they're totally cute.

I don't have to admit anything. I don't even know why they're at the top of this school. Their team sucks.

You take that back. Hadley chewed on her lip, a clear sign even she didn't believe her next words, words the entire school pretended were true. They're awesome.

No, they're not. They haven't won a single game. Not even my dad can help their incompetence. This school shouldn't be obsessed with a loser team who can't give their fans anything to cheer about.

Loser team, huh? Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut, hoping she was imagining the voice.

Hadley, tell me Jesse isn't standing in front of us.

Sorry, babe. Hadley laughed. Might want to open your eyes.

Charlotte lifted her face to regard Jesse Carrigan. Do you make a habit of listening to private conversations?

His lips twitched, but he didn't smile. Do you make a habit of trashing your dad's hockey team?

Did I say anything that wasn't true? She refused to be just another one of the girls in this school who did whatever the king said.

Why don't you like me, Morrison? He sounded genuinely curious, like it was a preposterous notion for someone not to worship the ground he walked on.

Well, Carrigan, you've never given me a reason to. She narrowed her eyes. Maybe try winning a game. Then you might at least have my respect.

We can't all be robots in tulle, Ice Princess.

Charlotte opened her mouth to retort, but nothing came out.

Instead, Hadley leaned forward. My girl could skate circles around your little hockey players. Move along to people who actually want to talk to you. Charlotte had never appreciated Hadley more than in that moment. She was one of those girls who wanted to talk to Jesse and Charlotte knew it. She had a weird obsession with the popular crowd. And for the most part, they liked her. She could have been one of them, but she never wanted to abandon Charlotte.

Jesse pursed his lips, surveying her for a moment longer as if searching for cracks in her fragile china facade.

Jess, Roman called. Leave the girl alone. She's too good for this school, right Charlotte?

Charlotte's cheeks reddened, and she ducked her head, avoiding her classmates’ stares.

Jesse sat at the table behind her with Roman, and Charlotte wondered if she imagined his whispered words. That was mean, dude.

Roman waited a moment before responding. And what she said wasn't?

Yeah, but we're better than that.

Charlotte should have felt good about Jesse chastising Roman for embarrassing her, but his words bounced around her brain. We're better than that.

Ice Princess wasn't just a nickname. They truly thought she was cold, devoid of any kind of emotion, programmed to care about perfection above all else.

Leaning toward Hadley, she dropped her voice. Thanks for the save.

Hadley only shot her a glare as Mr. Thompson stepped up to the front of the class and turned on the projector.

Charlotte opened her notebook and tapped her pencil against the page, but her head wasn't in class. She didn’t care about the chemical equation in front of her or the fact that a single unbalanced equation would wreck her perfect record in that class.

By the time the bell rang, she'd only written a single line of notes. Normally, Hadley borrowed notes from her, but maybe she'd do the borrowing this time.

They walked into the crowded hall and Hadley's fingers closed around Charlotte's arm. Come on. We need to talk.

She pulled her through the swinging doors of the library. An older woman with thick-framed glasses lifted her head and smiled at them. Hadley led Charlotte past the computer terminals and down an aisle of books where two beanbag chairs waited for eager readers.

I'm going to be late for study hall. Charlotte could count on one hand the number of times she'd been late to class.

Charlie, it's study hall. They don't even take attendance. She dropped into a beanbag. I don't feel like going to Brit Lit.

It's the first day back from break.

Okay, Mom. I promise I'll do better tomorrow. She gestured to the other beanbag. Sit.

Charlotte glanced back down the aisle, nerves tumbling in her stomach. She'd never even skipped study hall, but Hadley was right, they didn't take attendance.

She lowered herself to the beanbag and crossed her ankles.

Hadley sat pretzel style and pulled her sleeves down over her hands. Charlie, we have one semester left in this school.

Thank God.

Contrary to what you believe, some of us actually like it here. She folded her arms over her chest. Tough love time, girly. I'm going to start by saying I will defend you to the ends of the earth. I don't care who you're sparring with, I will always be on your side.

I don't deserve a friend like you.

Of course, you do. We all deserve people in our corner. Now, it's time for you to be in mine.

What do you mean?

Stop making me defend you to the likes of Jesse Carrigan.

Why? He's—

Hadley cut her off. Adorable. Smoking hot. Actually a nice guy when he isn't talking to you.

Wait... Charlotte's eyes widened. You have a thing for the king?

Well, that's an awful nickname, but... yes?

Charlotte didn't know whether to laugh or stop breathing altogether. This was it, the moment she lost Hadley to them. She'd always known this day would come. Who would choose her over someone like Jesse Carrigan?

Oh. Her cheeks heated. But you just said some mean stuff to him.

For you. Please don't make me do it again.

What are you asking here?

Hadley stared at her for a moment. Okay, so I know the whole ice princess thing is kind of bad and people use it to make fun of you... but there might be a little truth to it. Her words came out in a rush, like she just needed to get them out.

They struck Charlotte like a spear straight through the heart. Are... She took a deep breath. Are you saying I'm cold?

No. Yes. Maybe. Don't be mad, Charlie.

She'd known her classmates thought that of her, but not her best friend, the one person who was supposed to know her better than anyone.

So, let me get this straight. Charlotte averted her eyes from Hadley’s. You want me to change so you can fit in with Jesse's crowd?

Change? No. Just...

Because that's what it sounds like.

I'd never try to change you, Char.

Charlotte got to her feet and brushed the creases out of her skirt. Yeah, I used to think so too. She looked down at her friend. I'm not cold, Hadley. Some of us weren't born with the natural social skills. I thought you understood that.

I do.

But not as much as you understand what a guy like Jesse Carrigan wants. She couldn't look at her friend anymore and walked away without another word. Hadley didn't follow her.

So what if she spent all her time at the rink training? That didn't mean she was cold or a robot. She skipped study hall, didn't she? Was it so wrong to strive for perfection? To want to be the best at everything she did?

Trying not to think of Hadley's words, she operated the next few hours on autopilot.

It wasn't wrong for her friend to develop a crush on someone, but she didn't see the appeal of an arrogant boy like Jesse, one who let the entire school call him the king. She imagined the rest of his life was just as charmed as the hours he spent inside that building.

Did he have parents who bent to his every whim like their peers? Did they tell him they were proud despite the fact he led a losing team?

Charlotte's mom was disappointed with anything less than first place. Even that wasn't good enough when she knew her daughter would never make it onto the world stage. Charlotte went through life constantly feeling like she was letting people down. No amount of winning solved that.

She just never expected Hadley to make her feel like that as well.

She went through the rest of her day as she always did, apart from everyone else, a wall of ice between her and the rest of the world.

When Hadley wasn't waiting for her by her car at the end of the day like she normally did, Charlotte had never felt more alone.

The slamming of the front door reverberated through the house, and Charlotte sat up on her bed. She'd been reading since she got home but didn't want her mom to catch her.

Every morning before school, Charlotte got to the rink for a training session. The afternoons and evenings were saved for conditioning. It was the first day in months she'd skipped her afternoon run—but her mother didn’t need to know that.

She slid off her bed and stepped into the hall to lean against the stair railing. Her mother's tight eyes didn't stare up at her; instead, her father grinned. How's my girl today?

Charlotte rarely got any time alone with her dad. It was as if her parents decided when she was young that she belonged to her mom to mold and shape. If she'd been a boy, would her dad have taken more of an interest?

Her dad shrugged out of his leather jacket and hung it on the peg by the door. Have you eaten dinner?

No. Charlotte descended the stairs. Both her parents usually worked at the rink through dinner. Her mom left pre-made meals in the fridge for her, tasteless low-calorie dishes.

Her dad held up a white sack. "I stopped at Emma's."

Charlotte's stomach rumbled at the smell coming from the sack. Emma's was her favorite restaurant, but she had to hide her trips there from her mom. The diner was a tribute to Emma Bay, an old Hollywood actress. It was pretty much the coolest place in Gulf City. Hadley had introduced her to the wonders of their food years ago.

What did you get me? Charlotte took the bag.

Hollywood sliders with cheese. He grinned like that made him father of the year. In her book, it did. Oh, and zucchini fries with that aioli stuff you love so much.

An uncharacteristic squeal left her mouth. Thanks, Dad. She took the bag to the kitchen and retrieved two plates. What are you doing home early?

There's a birthday party at the rink tonight, so we're closed for anything else. It's not like I can get any work done with kids yelling everywhere.

Charlotte suppressed a grin. Her dad wasn't a kid person, yet he owned a rink catering to them. How was practice? She might not like the guys on his team, but she always enjoyed talking about the game with him. Small moments alone like this were the only time her mom didn't steer the conversation toward figure skating topics.

She'd never admit it to her mom, but she found hockey much more exciting.

I don't know what to do with these boys. He led her into the living room and flipped on the TV, turning it to a Lightning game before settling into his recliner. It's like most of them have never taken skating lessons in their lives.

She laughed but covered it up by biting into her juicy slider. It tasted like heaven, much better than the dry chicken and asparagus her mom told her to eat tonight. Can't you teach them to skate?

He lifted a brow. I was never the best skater in my career, but I made up for it with other talents.

You can say it. She grinned. Fighting. They ignored your skating because you were good at pummeling people.

Hey now. He feigned affront. This is your father you're speaking to.

She laughed. Have you ever thought of giving up?

What do you mean?

Why do you keep coaching a team that isn't getting any better? They kind of suck, Dad.

Kiddo, you can't just give up because you face adversity. Not everyone was blessed with your God-given talent.

I've worked for this talent.

I never said you didn't. But my guys... they love the game. They have fun playing together, and I have fun coaching them. I wouldn't give that up just because of a few losses.

His guys. Sometimes, she wondered if her dad loved his team more than he loved her. He certainly spent more time with them. Not that she blamed him. He loved hockey. Heck, she did too. But only one of them was stuck in this rut where they had to choose one or the other.

Hockey or figure skating.

Her mom or her dad.

Only her parents knew she'd trained in both sports, not making her decision until she hit competition age for figure skating. She loved her sport, she really did. But she didn't know when it had become her entire life.

The TV announcer started talking as the teams skated off the ice for intermission. Charlotte finished eating in silence, soaking in the talk of strategy and technique of a sport that revolved around teams, not individual accomplishments.

She once asked her mom if she could try pairs skating—just to have a partner, someone to go through the highs and lows with. Her mom's response? Why would you share the spotlight?

Charlotte never wanted the attention. She cared little for the flowers thrown at her or the medals looped around her neck. All she'd ever wanted to do was skate.

Hey, Charlie? Her dad's voice was tentative.

She met his gaze. Yeah?

I was thinking of heading downstairs to do some shooting. Do you... want to join me?

He hadn't asked her to shoot around with him since she was a kid. I should go for a run before Mom gets home.

Aw, come on. Give your old man a break. You can slack off for a night. He gestured to the empty cardboard box in her lap. You've already killed your diet.

You're a bad influence on me, Dad. She couldn't help but smile.

He winked. What are dads for?

Um, I don't know. Protection, making sure I follow the rules, giving me your credit card for a shopping spree.

Nice try. He pulled on her braid. We can tell your mom it was my fault.

Charlie stood. "Well, it is your fault."

He draped an arm over her shoulders and squeezed her to his side. You're trouble.

She snorted. They both knew she was anything but trouble. Leaving their trash in the living room, they headed for the stairs. Her mom would silently seethe at the mess they left behind. That was her style.

Sometimes, Charlotte wondered how her parents worked. They were so different. But they got each other, loved each other.

Down in the basement, her dad's sheet of Glice spread before them with a net at one end. Padded walls surrounded the surface, reaching to Charlotte's chest.

On the back wall, a rack of skates beckoned to her. She ran a finger over the row belonging to her. Three old pairs of figure skates and one barely-used pair of hockey skates.

She pulled out her favorite pair of worn figure skates. She'd kept the blades sharpened for the rare moments she could come down here by herself and just enjoy being on the synthetic ice. The laces were stained from too much use, therefore making them unsuitable for competition—according to her mother.

Slipping into them was like seeing an old friend after a long time away. No pair of skates since had been so comfortable or brought back so many good memories.

Beside her, her dad laced up his skates and stood. He grabbed two hockey sticks from where they leaned against the wall and extended one to Charlotte as soon as she joined him.

Her fingers curled around the wooden stick instinctively. Her dad was old school, preferring wood to fiberglass.

They skated to the center of the Glice surface, and her dad dumped a bag of rubber pucks.

No foam balls? She quirked an eyebrow. When she was younger, he only let her shoot with children's toys.

I think you've graduated from that.

She didn't tell him that when he wasn't there, she came to the basement and pretended she was one of his players, that sometimes she wondered what it would be like to streak up the ice during the middle of a hockey game with a puck on her stick.

She never dared show him what she could do, not really believing it herself. It didn't matter how quickly she could go from forehand to backhand, she wouldn't match up to those boys, even losing ones.

Figure skating was her sport. Not hockey.

Shaking those thoughts from her mind, she lined up across from her dad, bending low for the face-off. He grinned as he dropped the puck and won it from her. No one would ever say either of her parents went easy on her.

Charlotte chased him around the small surface. He might be able to stickhandle the puck away from her, but he couldn't out-skate her. Moving backward, she faced him. Every time he tried to get around her, she twisted to the side and blocked him, thankful for the strength in her ankles from years of training.

He laughed. If anyone on my team could skate like you, we might have a fighting chance.

Your prized Jesse can't? The words slipped out before she could stop them.

Her father stopped skating. Charlotte, not paying attention, rammed into the padded wall behind her and fell to the ground.

Has Jesse been giving you trouble?

At her dad's question, she sat back against the wall, her yoga-pant clad legs stretched out in front of her. How could she answer that question? Yes, he was a problem, but it wasn't completely his fault. She'd managed to avoid thinking of Hadley all evening despite her friend's constant texts. They all went unread.

He's fine, Dad. The last thing she needed was him going all cave-dad on one of his own players.

You'd tell me if any of the guys were causing issues, right?

Sure. Not likely. She knew it was the guys from the team that had started her ice princess nickname. They saw her around the rink when she was single-minded about her training and not interested in their chit-chat.

They aren't allowed to touch you.

What? She lifted her eyes to her dad.

It's a team rule. No one dates the coach's daughter. I won't have any of them bothering you.

Her cheeks heated as she imagined the entire Gulf City hockey team sitting in their locker room discussing her as the forbidden fruit. That's not embarrassing at all, thanks Dad.

Her sarcasm wasn't lost on him. I just know you have goals, Charlie. I wouldn't have any of my boys messing those up. You're too good for them.

Too good? she scoffed, rising to her feet. What does that even mean? That's what the kids at school said—that she thought she was too good for them. She wasn't.

I wish people would stop telling me how good I am. It didn't matter, anyway. She wasn't allowed to date. Another one of her mom/coach's rules. Dating only interfered with training. Wouldn't want to let the teenager actually be a teenager.

Char—

I just want to be like them. She set her stick against the wall and yanked at the laces on her skates, toeing them off.

Like who?

She whirled around to face him, angry tears building in her eyes. Everyone else.

Why would you want that?

Because I have chased one dream my entire life. And now it's all I know. Tell me, Dad, does success mean anything if I don't enjoy it? This is all going to end one day in the not too distant future. And then what will I be left with? I want more than memories of training sessions with my mom and afternoon runs alone.

Charlie, what are you saying?

She put her hands on her head and turned toward the stairs. I honestly don't know.

She ran up the steps, away from her dad and the questions in his eyes. Her mom stood in the living room surveying their mess.

Charlotte turned away from her and ran up to her room. Collapsing onto her bed, she wiped at the tears on her face and reached for her phone. It rang twice before a familiar voice answered.

I'm sorry, Hadley said.

No, I'm sorry. I think you were right.

No, I wasn't. It doesn't matter who I like. You're my best friend.

After spilling her guts to her dad, Charlotte took comfort in speaking to the one person who'd ever tried to get her to break out of her ice skating world. You're allowed to like Jesse Carrigan. I might not like him, but that doesn't mean you can't.

I love you, Charlie.

Charlotte smiled. Love you too, Hads. She twisted to lay on her back on the pink bedspread and stare at the tiled ceiling. So, about Friday...

Hadley screamed. You want to do it?

Yeah, I'll have my dad's keys when I come to your house.

You and me, Charlie. Screw anyone else.

She grinned. "Thanks, Hads. I needed