Chapter 14 #2
I nod, pursing my lips to one side. Words sit in my throat, all the things I could say—should say, maybe. But I don’t know how to start that conversation, and it doesn’t seem like my father does either.
Stepping forward, I reach down to pet Murphy one more time. The cat purrs and moves his head so that I get the spot behind his ear, never opening his eyes.
“I’ll come by again in a couple days,” I say. “Check on things. Make sure the radiator’s still working right, and that you’re taking your meds.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know.”
I turn to leave, letting myself out so that he won’t have to get up again. As I head to my car, there’s a lot churning in my head, and I run a hand through my hair, scraping my nails lightly over my scalp as if that will help clear my mind.
I pull out my phone once I’m in the car and text Kat to find out where she is now. She responds almost immediately with the address of a bookstore, so I guide the car in that direction.
The drive doesn’t take too long, but when I pull up outside the bookstore, she’s already waiting on the sidewalk with several shopping bags clustered around her feet.
She waves as I pull up, pointing to the trunk, and I nod and press the button to pop it open.
Her cheeks are flushed a pretty pink from the cold, and I watch in the rearview as she loads her bags into the car.
The second she gets into the passenger seat in a whoosh of cold air, I feel myself grinning over at her.
“Successful shopping trip?” I ask as she buckles her seatbelt.
“Very successful. I got almost everyone on my Christmas list checked off.” She rubs her hands together, blowing on them. “I found some great stuff at that bookstore. They have this whole local authors section that’s really impressive for such a small store.”
“What’d you get?”
“A cookbook for my mom, a history book about Virginia for my dad, and an art book to give Sam whenever she gets back from Antarctica.” She lists them off, clearly pleased with her finds. “Plus, I may have bought a few things for myself. But that’s beside the point.”
I chuckle. “Of course. So, are you excited for this?”
“To break my coccyx?” She shoots me a blinding smile. “Oh, definitely. I’ve been looking forward to it all day.”
She says it so matter-of-factly that I burst out laughing. “You’re not going to break your coccyx. I promise your ass will be safe with me.”
The flush on her cheeks deepens immediately, turning an even darker shade.
I can feel my own face heating a little, and I clear my throat.
I didn’t mean that the way it sounded, or at least, I didn’t mean to say it out loud like that.
But now that the words are hanging between us, I can’t take them back.
“Good to know,” she says, her voice slightly higher than normal. She taps her fingers against her full thighs, looking out the windshield. “So, the rink is in a park on the other side of town. I can give you directions.”
“Sounds good.”
She guides me through the winding streets, pointing out turns as we go. Christmas decorations are everywhere, making it clear that the residents of Maplewood take the holidays seriously. There are lights strung along rooflines, inflatable snowmen in yards, and massive wreaths hung on doors.
“Turn left here,” she says after a while, and we pull into a parking lot next to a sprawling park.
The rink is bigger than I expected, and it looks like a temporary structure that probably gets set up every winter season.
It’s surrounded by trees that have white lights strung up in their branches, and there’s a small warming hut at one end where people can rent skates and buy hot chocolate, from the looks of it.
When we arrive, there are maybe a dozen people skating—families with young kids wobbling around the edges, a couple of teenagers showing off in the center, and an older couple holding hands as they move slowly but confidently.
“I haven’t been here in years,” Kat admits as we head toward the warming hut. “This is actually really cute.”
“See? Skating is fun. Just wait, you’ll see.”
We rent skates from the teenager working the counter, and I help Kat find a pair that fits her well. Then we head to one of the benches scattered around the edge of the rink to lace up.
I can see her getting more nervous as she tightens her laces, her movements becoming slower and more deliberate. She keeps glancing at the ice, worrying her lower lip between her teeth.
“You okay?” I ask as I finish with my own skates.
“Just remembering the last time I did this,” she says, pulling her laces a bit tighter than necessary. “I was seven, and I’m pretty sure I spent the whole time falling down. My butt was bruised for a week.”
“That’s not going to happen this time.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“I can promise that I’ve got you. I’m a professional at this, remember? I’ve taught kids how to skate. I’ve helped teammates work on their technique. I can definitely keep one person upright on the ice.”
She scrunches up her nose, still looking a bit apprehensive, but she stands up once her skates are on.
We make our way to the edge of the ice, and I step on first. That familiar feeling settles over me the second my blades hit the surface, like something clicking into place in my chest. This is where I belong, where everything makes sense.
I turn to offer Kat my hand, and she takes it with a grip that comes close to cutting off my circulation.
“You’ve got it,” I assure her, trying not to wince. “Don’t think about it too much. Just step on.”
She does, and immediately her legs start doing that thing where they want to go in opposite directions. I steady her with both hands on her waist, and she grabs my forearms tightly.
“I’ve got you,” I remind her in a low voice. “Just breathe.”
“Breathe.” She inhales sharply. “Right. I can do that.”
I skate backward slowly, guiding her forward with small movements. She’s stiff and tense, every muscle locked up.
“Showoff,” she mutters, watching as I navigate backward without a second thought.
“Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet, bright eyes.” I shoot her a wink. “I’m just getting warmed up. “
To prove my point, I let go of her hands and rest one of them on the rink’s wall to make sure she’s steady on her legs before I push off.
The wind hits my face and the blades of my skates slide smoothly across the ice, my body knowing exactly how to move without my brain having to consciously tell it.
I pick up speed, looping around the rink a few times before doing crossovers in the corners, tight and controlled.
By the time I circle back to Kat, she’s stopped trying to move. She’s just standing there, one hand on the wall, staring at me with her mouth slightly open.
“What?” I ask, skating up to her and coming to a quick stop with a small spray of ice.
“That.” She gestures vaguely in my direction. “I mean, I knew in theory that you were a professional hockey player, but seeing it is completely different. You move like you were born doing this. Like the ice is where you belong, and walking on land is just something you do to be polite.”
The awe in her voice makes my chest feel tight. Over the years—before my injury and the terrible season that followed—I’ve heard praise from coaches, commentators, and plenty of fans. But somehow, her reaction means more than any of that.
“Come on,” I say, offering my hands again. “Your turn to try.”
She takes them, and I start guiding her forward again with slow and steady movements that let her get used to the feeling of gliding instead of walking. She fights against the ease of it at first, trying to control every micro-movement instead of just letting the ice carry her.
“Relax,” I tell her with a reassuring smile. “Stop overthinking it. Feel the ice under your blades. It’s like butter, right? Work with it instead of against it.”
“Easy for you to say,” she protests, wobbling as she tries to push off with one foot. “You’re not the one about to fall on your face in front of half the town.”
“You’re not going to fall. I’ve got you.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it keeps being true.”
She looks up at me, her green eyes wide, her dark lashes fluttering slightly. Her throat works as she swallows, and then she gives a little nod.
“Okay,” she says quietly. “I trust you.”
The honesty in her tone makes my heart do something complicated in my chest, and I nod, giving her hands a little squeeze.
We make a slow, careful lap around the rink, and gradually I feel her body relax into the movements a bit more. She’s still wobbly, still struggling to keep her balance with every push, but she’s starting to get the rhythm of it.
“Better,” I murmur, and she rewards me with a quick grin.
“This is actually kind of fun,” she admits. “When I’m not panicking.”
“See? I told you.”
We keep skating, and with each lap, her confidence grows.
It’ll be a while before she can go pro, but she’s getting the hang of the basics.
How to push off, how to glide, how to turn without losing her balance.
At one point, she reaches up and tugs the elastic band out of her hair, letting it fall out of the ponytail so that the dark strands tumble loose around her shoulders.
“What are you doing?” I ask, steadying her as she wobbles from the movement.
“I want to feel the wind in my hair.” She shrugs, looking a little sheepish. “Isn’t that the whole point of going fast?”
“Damn straight.” I chuckle, holding out my hand. “Here, I’ll take it.”
She drops the hair tie into my palm, and I slip it into my jacket pocket. And honestly, having her hair loose, streaming behind her as we pick up speed slightly, definitely seems to give her a boost. She moves more fluidly, leaning into each stroke of her skates.
Her laugh echoes across the ice as we round a corner, bright and unguarded. A little kid skating nearby looks over and grins at the sound.
I can’t help looking sideways at her, only half paying attention to the ice as she steals my focus. Watching her have this much fun, seeing her lose herself in the moment, makes me remember why I fell in love with skating in the first place.
It’s a nice reminder.
“Thank you,” she says breathlessly when we finally come to a stop after skating for close to an hour.
“For what?”
“For sharing this with me. For teaching me.” She tilts her face up to meet my gaze, bright spots of pink sitting high on her cheeks pink from the cold and exertion. “You look different when you’re skating, you know.”
“Different how?”
She hesitates as if considering the answer. “I don’t know. Lighter, I guess. Like you’ve let everything else go. Like you’re not thinking about the future, just enjoying the present moment.”
Damn. She sees too much, this woman. Straight through all my carefully constructed defenses to things I barely admit to myself in private moments.
I let the pull of gravity move me a few inches closer to her, my skates gliding easily over the ice. “Well, I am enjoying the present moment.”
Her chest rises as she draws in a breath, her lips curving up on one side. “Yeah. Me too.”