Chapter 24 Bill
twenty-four
Bill
Place D’Youville is buzzing with skaters. It honestly resembles something out of a Disney movie, and I feel a thrill I haven’t felt in years as I lace up my skates next to Ruth.
“It’s perfect,” I say, tugging at my laces. “Are you going to be able to make it without having a snack first? Want me to grab you a cocoa before we start?”
She lifts her brows at me and lets out a laugh. “I seriously just ate. I should be fine. It’s nice to know you think I’m a pig.” She bumps her elbow against my arm with a playful shove.
I chuckle, standing as she does. “I don’t think that at all. I just noticed you are happiest when you have lots of random food breaks. I don’t want to have to rescue you when you faint halfway around.”
“Funny,” she says, but she’s smiling, her cheeks already pink from the cold.
We step onto the ice at the same time, no words needed, our strides falling in sync almost immediately. My arm finds its place around her waist like it was always meant to be there, though she doesn’t need the assistance.
We settle into a rhythm of leaning and brushing against each other every few seconds in ways that don’t feel accidental anymore.
Her hip grazes mine, and my hand steadies her as other skaters rush by.
Every time I touch her side, I feel the heat of her through her coat, and it sends a charge through me.
After a few laps, I catch her gaze. “What are you thinking about?” I ask.
“Just sort of watching you skate. You hockey players make it look so easy.”
“You know,” I say, voice dropping lower, “my dad taught me how to skate, and yes, he also played hockey, but not professionally. He had this way of making me think falling was the fun part. As soon as I would fall, he’d smile and act like that was just part of the journey, and after that, I saw it more as an adrenaline rush than something to be feared. ”
Her expression softens. “He sounds wonderful.”
“He was.” I swallow, glancing across the rink. “I miss him every day. He worked at the lumbermill outside Mapleton his whole life. He was a humble man, but he taught me how to work hard, and he was my best friend. He passed a couple years ago of natural causes but, man, do I miss him...”
There’s a beat of silence where she tilts her head closer. “I’m sorry, Bill. That must’ve been hard.”
I try to smile. “Hard but normal, right? I’m getting older, and it’s normal to start losing people. Comes with the territory, right?” I mean it as a joke, but the words land heavier than I intended.
Her eyes hold mine steady. “You’re right. Life is short.”
Something in her tone makes me wonder where her mind has gone, but I don’t push. She glances away. I don’t know what memory she’s living in, but I can tell it’s one that shaped her.
We let the conversation fade and just skate, her gliding backward now with me holding her waist, guiding her.
She tilts her head back, eyes finding mine.
At the edge of the rink, we slow to a stop, flushed and winded.
I keep my hand at her back a little longer than necessary.
Then I lift my hand to her cheek, brushing her skin with my thumb.
She leans into the touch, and my chest tightens at the trust in the gesture.
I can’t hold back another second. I lower my head and kiss her slowly—savoring the warmth of her lips in the winter chill. She presses into me, and I swear she wants to kiss just as much as I do.
When I finally pull back, we’re both breathing hard, not just from skating anymore.
“This was the best day of my life,” I murmur, my forehead resting against hers.
Her lips curve faintly, hovering near mine. “Was? Feels to me like we’re just getting started...”
“That means you need a snack, right?” I give her a suspicious side-eye.
“No.” She rolls her eyes as a chuckle leaks out.
“Are you sure about that?” I press the issue again. “I saw they have donuts with mountains of frosting on them.”
“Did you see chocolate ones?” Her gaze snaps to the side of the rink where the concessions are, and I immediately laugh, taking that as a yes.
“Let’s go.” I push off my skate, pulling her forward, and we glide together off the ice.