Chapter 3 — An Unconventional Proposal

Blake

The sound of his skates cutting through the ice usually calmed him. The rhythmic glide, the cool air nipping at his cheeks, the steady drumbeat of his heart—out here, under the fluorescent lights of the rink, he could let it all melt away. Out here, he wasn’t Blake Carter, disgraced tabloid headline. He wasn’t the guy whose trust had been shattered in front of the entire world. He was just Blake, the guy who loved the game.

But not tonight.

He skated another lap, his stick tapping against the boards, the hollow echo bouncing back at him like the thoughts that wouldn’t quiet. Katherine Alvarez. She’d been circling his mind since their conversation at the Harborfront the night before—her quiet strength, the way her laugh had surprised him, and the weight of her words about her health. Dialysis, waiting lists, and the uphill fight she faced every single day. She’d said it all so matter-of-factly, like it wasn’t crushing her, but he’d seen the exhaustion in her eyes.

Blake came to a stop at center ice, leaning on his stick and letting out a slow, foggy breath. The idea had crept into his mind on the drive home, half-formed and ridiculous, but now it refused to leave. It gnawed at him, tugging at the parts of him he usually kept hidden—the parts that wanted to help, to fix things, to make someone else’s life even a little easier.

It was crazy. Reckless. It might not even work. But it was the first time in weeks he’d felt like he could make something—even a small thing—right. And maybe… maybe it wasn’t just about her. Maybe helping her would bring a little clarity to the chaotic mess his own life had become.

The thought alone sent a jolt of nerves through him. This wasn’t just some spur-of-the-moment good deed. This was a decision that could blow up his life in ways he couldn’t fully predict. The media fallout. His family’s reaction. Katherine herself—her fierce independence might mean she’d laugh in his face. What if she said no? What if she said yes?

“Carter! You coming, or are you planning to freeze out here all night?” Ryan’s voice cut through his thoughts. His best friend was leaning casually against the boards, flicking a puck back and forth with the blade of his stick.

Blake pushed himself toward the edge of the rink, coasting effortlessly until he came to a stop in front of Ryan. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

Ryan smirked. “Dangerous territory for you. What’s going on?”

Blake hesitated, his hand tightening around his hockey stick. This was a bad idea. But Ryan was the one person he trusted to be honest, even if it meant a verbal slap to the face. “It’s about Katherine.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “The girl from The Icebox? You’ve been seeing her?”

Blake shook his head. “Not like that. I ran into her again last night, at the promenade.”

“And now she’s living rent-free in your head?” Ryan teased, but his tone softened when Blake didn’t immediately fire back. “What’s up with her?”

Blake leaned his stick against the boards and ran a hand through his hair. “She’s waiting for a kidney transplant. She has dialysis multiple times a week, but the transplant list… it’s stacked against her. She doesn’t have the money or the insurance to get better care, to move up the list faster.”

Ryan’s playful expression sobered, his stick stilling. “Damn. That’s rough.”

“And I’ve been thinking,” Blake continued, his voice quieter now. “If she were my wife, she’d be on my insurance. She’d have access to better doctors, better treatments… better odds.”

Ryan blinked at him, stunned. Then he let out a low whistle. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m serious,” Blake said, surprising himself with the conviction in his tone. “It wouldn’t be real—just an arrangement. Something to get her through this.”

Ryan straightened, his stick forgotten. “Carter, this isn’t one of Ruby’s rom-coms. You’re talking about a fake marriage. That’s not exactly a casual favor.”

Blake crossed his arms, his jaw tightening. “I know it’s not. But what’s the alternative? Sit back and watch her drown when I could throw her a lifeline?” His voice softened. “She’s tough, Ry. You’d see it if you met her. But no one should have to fight something like this alone.”

Ryan tilted his head, studying him. “And you’d be okay with that? Just playing house for a while, knowing you’re taking on all her baggage?”

Blake shot him a look. “You think I haven’t thought about that? I know it’s a lot. But if I can help, even a little, why wouldn’t I?”

Ryan gave a slow shake of his head, a faint glimmer of admiration cutting through his skepticism. “You’re out of your damn mind.”

“Probably,” Blake admitted, cracking a small, self-deprecating smile. “But I’m doing it anyway.”

“Does she even know you’re thinking about this?”

Blake hesitated, his hand brushing the tape on his stick. “Not yet.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “Right. Because showing up at someone’s door to propose marriage is totally normal.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Blake muttered, shoving off toward the locker room. But Ryan’s words lingered as he changed and drove to Katherine’s apartment. He rehearsed the conversation in his head, each variation making him feel more ridiculous. What if she laughed at him? Or worse—what if she agreed?

By the time he pulled up outside her building, his nerves were jangling like a loose skate blade. The peeling paint and flickering porch light gave the modest building an air of weariness, but there was something about it—something lived-in, something resilient—that felt distinctly… her.

He glanced at his phone, debating whether he should text her instead. But no, this wasn’t something he could explain through a screen. This had to be face-to-face.

Taking a deep breath, he shoved the phone into his pocket, climbed the steps, and knocked. His knuckles rapped against the worn wood, the sound echoing faintly into the night. A shuffle of footsteps followed, and then the door creaked open.

Katherine stood there, hair pulled into a messy ponytail, a smudge of pencil on her cheek. She looked tired, but there was a spark in her warm brown eyes that hadn’t been there the night before.

“Blake?” she said, a mix of surprise and curiosity in her voice. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey,” he said, his usual confidence faltering. “Sorry to just show up. Can I come in? There’s… something I need to talk to you about.”

Her brows knitted, but after a beat, she stepped aside, holding the door open. The scent of lavender drifted out, mingled with the faint hum of the dialysis machine in the corner. The cluttered room reflected her perfectly—half-finished sketches on the coffee table, stacks of books by the sofa, a pinboard of photos and postcards glowing faintly under a string of fairy lights.

“So,” Katherine said, leaning against the arm of her couch, arms crossed. “What’s so important it couldn’t wait?”

Blake rubbed the back of his neck, searching for the right words. “Look, this is going to sound insane. And I get it if you say no. But I’ve been thinking about what you said last night. About your health. The transplant list. And I… I want to help.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “How?”

He hesitated, feeling the weight of the words before he said them. “By marrying you.”

Her jaw dropped, and then a sharp laugh burst out of her. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m serious,” Blake said, stepping forward. “If we were married, you’d be on my insurance. You’d have access to everything—better doctors, faster treatment. It could change everything.”

She stared at him, her disbelief shifting into something more guarded. “You’re not joking.”

“No,” he said, his voice softening. “I know it’s crazy, but this isn’t a pity thing, Katherine. You’re strong. You’ve been fighting this thing on your own, and I just… I don’t think you should have to anymore.”

Her arms tightened around herself, her gaze flicking to the dialysis machine in the corner. “You barely know me. Why would you do this?”

Blake hesitated, his throat tightening. “Because I can. And because maybe… maybe we both need something to hold onto right now.”

For a long moment, she said nothing, her expression flickering between skepticism, gratitude, and something that looked a lot like fear. “And what happens after? When it falls apart?”

“We figure it out,” Blake said. “Together. No strings, no expectations. Just… until you’re better.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. Finally, she let out a low, humorless laugh. “You’re insane.”

“Probably,” he agreed, his mouth quirking into a soft smile. “But I’m okay with that if you are.”

The silence stretched, thick with unspoken questions. Blake’s heart thudded in his chest, loud enough to drown out the hum of the machine. And then, finally, Katherine nodded, her voice barely audible.

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s do it.”

Blake exhaled, a strange mix of relief and apprehension washing over him. “Okay.”

And just like that, the first step of their insane, unconventional plan was set in motion.