Chapter 17 Julian
SEVENTEEN
JULIAN
Four years ago I was a dog walker who'd tangled a grumpy goalie in a knot of leashes and thought about him for three days afterward.
Now I was lacing up ice skates in an empty arena while our almost four-year-old daughter demonstrated her backward crossovers on the ice and Renard watched her with the expression he reserved for things he loved most.
In all the years we’d been mated, Renard had never gotten me on the ice but now that our daughter was taking lessons and had been begging me to learn, I’d finally agreed.
"Ready?" My mate crouched to check my laces, tugging them snug with the efficiency of someone who'd been doing this since childhood.
"As ready as I'll ever be." I tested my weight on the blades.
"They feel very wrong."
"They'll feel right once you're on the ice. Trust me." He kissed my temple. "But I've got you."
Darcy had been asking me to learn. Every week she came home from her skating lesson with new things to show us, and every week she'd look at me with those gray eyes and say, "Papa, come on," and every week I'd found a new excuse until I ran out of them.
Renard had arranged the arena for the three of us. It was a full hour with no audience. It was just us, the ice and the overhead lights. It was the kind of thing he did without making a production of it.
"Daddy, come on!" Darcy called from the ice, skating in wobbly, enthusiastic circles. "Papa's taking forever!"
"Papa is being careful," I called back.
"Papa is stalling," Renard said under his breath, and helped me to my feet.
The first steps onto the ice were as bad as I'd expected. My ankles immediately had opinions and none of them were good.
"Bend your knees," Renard told me as he put an arm around my waist. "Don't lock them."
I did and things improved marginally.
"How is she doing that?" I watched Darcy glide forward with her arms out, completely unbothered by the fact that she was moving fast on thin blades.
"Natural talent." His voice was full of quiet pride. "She's been practicing between lessons. Slides around the kitchen in her socks pretending the tiles are ice."
"She definitely has your skating genes."
"But she gets her stubbornness from you."
Darcy appeared at my other side and grabbed my free hand. "I'll help you, Papa. You just have to feel the glide."
She'd clearly been listening to her father.
Together they walked me across the ice. With Renard's arm around my waist and Darcy’s small hand in mine, the two of them were so patient with me.
They loved me and wanted me to succeed. I shuffled.
Then I pushed a little. The blades caught and moved and for one moment I understood what my daughter meant.
There was the glide, the small effortless carry between each stroke.
"There," Renard said. "Feel that?"
"Yes."
"Told you."
We made it halfway across the rink before my feet disagreed about the direction and I wobbled. My mate’s arm tightened and held me.
"I've got you."
He'd been catching me since that first day in the park. I'd come to rely on it and sometimes forgot it hadn't always been there.
Darcy attempted a spin ahead of us. She turned a full circle and sat down hard on the ice. But she was back up and grinning before I'd had time to worry. "I'm okay! The ice is slippery!"
"It is," I agreed. "And you’re so brave, sweetheart."
We went around again and this time I pushed with more intention, actually skating rather than just surviving.
Darcy took my other hand when we passed her and the three of us moved across the ice together.
Renard set the pace I could manage while Darcy chattered about what she'd learned and what she was going to learn next.
"This is actually fun," And meant it. I’d been missing out all these years.
Renard’s proud expression had me tearing up but I blinked the tears away, not wanting to explain to Darcy why I was crying.
After twenty minutes we took a break. I needed it but our daughter had boundless energy. She skated circles while Renard and I sat on the bench. Our thighs were pressed together and my legs were burning from muscles I'd been unaware of until today.
Renard laced his fingers through mine. "You did really well out there."
"I didn't fall so that’s a huge plus.”
We watched Darcy work on her backwards skating. She was completely absorbed in what she was doing and not paying us any attention.
I rested my head on his shoulder. "I’m so lucky to have someone who looks at me like you do."
He kissed my temple. "You and Darcy are my everything."
"Daddy! Papa!" Our daughter appeared in front of us. She was breathless, and her cheeks were tinged with red. "Can we do the circle thing with all three of us holding hands?"
"Papa's tired, sweetheart."
"No. I took a deep breath and prepared to get up because I refused to disappoint her. "One more."
Her face lit up and her smile mimicked my mate’s. Darcy looked so much like Renard. No one could ever mistake them for anything other than father and daughter.
Darcy grabbed my hand and pulled and Renard got me upright with his hands on my waist.
"But this is the last time and then we go home."
The three of us formed a circle and linked our hands. Renard set a slow steady pace but Darcy demanded we go faster .
"This is Papa’s pace and we’re doing it together as a family," Renard told her.
We skated in slow circles as our daughter giggled. I thought about the morning in the woods four years ago when I first saw my mate’s wolf and how terrified I was. My mind jumped to how we’d gone to the arcade and had fun. All of that had led here.
Our hour ended. We changed out of our skates and Darcy talked without stopping about everything she was going to teach me next week, and the week after, and apparently for the foreseeable future.
"Every week!" she announced in the car. "Right, Daddy?"
"If Papa wants to."
I looked at the hope in her face and didn't think twice. "Every week."
If you enjoy my books, I’m hoping to get another one out soon. I’m thinking of putting it at curios.