Chapter Seventeen #2
He nods, eyes roving over my face like he’s studying me.
I want to move, but I feel like I might ruin the picture.
His gaze takes me in like he’s an artist painting this very moment in time, and it would be a shame to mess it up now.
When his eyes linger on my mouth, my face heats.
I swallow, a reaction to his intensity, wondering if he’s also thinking about how much I remember the chemistry in our kiss.
There was an absolute magnetism in our connection that long ago altered any chance of truly fitting with another person.
I’m a book whose spine has been creased, coffee beans that have been ground.
Jace changed the structure of who I am. What’s done has been done, and there’s no way to undo it.
Scared to move, I reach out with my still-gloveless hand.
Without looking at it, his hand finds mine.
The touch is gentle, but I feel the strength behind it.
It’s not a promise, but it’s an acknowledgment.
To my delight, his mouth lifts enough to flash a hint of his dimple.
I smile in response as he pulls me to skate again, our bodies warming with the movement of skating across the ice.
A few more people have stepped onto the rink, and I’ve missed all of them until now.
They spin or practice their glides, and we skate, hand in hand, sometimes picking up speed.
Mostly, we find a rhythm in which his much longer legs move in sync with mine.
We don’t speak but only skate, the evening passing into night in the comfort of his presence.
It’s only during the fifteenth or the fiftieth lap that I think I hear him humming the song “Collide.”
∞∞∞
“So, what are you going to do about your scholarships?” Jace is sitting next to me at the bar at Aesop’s Tavern, holding a bottle of handcrafted root beer and looking much too good in his classic, long-sleeved black t-shirt that must be made of some sort of wonder fabric that hugs his muscles impeccably.
He’s one of the rarest of men who can make athletic wear look like high-end fashion.
Jace told me he doesn’t drink anymore, but Aesop’s is more than a tavern; it’s a place to connect, an increasingly rare anomaly in our modern society.
And everyone in town loves Clark, the owner, who happens to be working tonight.
Tinsel hangs around the bar and through the rafters, the Christmas lights looking like hanging stars over our heads.
I sigh a bit, trying to rein in my train of thought.
“I’m going to pray that the committee will see how valuable they are and allocate some of the funds that would have been used to upgrade our already functional recycling bins to be utilized for my students instead.
I know that everything in this town is important, so I’m not trying to say one thing is more beneficial than the others, but I can’t say no to children who want to dance.
But I also can’t keep saying yes. Studio rent in this town is expensive.
I consider it worth it, though, if I can get more students to find the outlet of dance that I had. ”
Jace furrows his brow.
“Don’t get me wrong,” I continue in his silence, “like I told you so long ago, everyone here is so wonderful. My parents, my brother . . . they’ve all made it so that I feel their support without ever having to ask for it.”
Jace stiffens slightly at the mention of my brother, and the movement gives me pause.
“But?” Jace asks, lightly tapping my shoulder with his own.
Shaking my head, I offer him a crooked smile, meeting his gaze.
Pulling my shoulders back, something about the way Jace rubs his thumb over the logo, back and forth as if he could be granted three wishes if it were a lamp, makes me resolute in my decision to open up to him more—or, in this case, again.
I begin again. “But I’ve always had this feeling of loneliness hovering around me.
Never fully consuming but at the edges. The feeling of a void that I’ve never quite found a way to fill.
There was hope once—” My voice almost gives out, my meaning rich and hovering throughout the air.
As always, his proximity pulls on the threads of my emotions in a unique way.
Jace nods, head tilted. “For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you for working so hard. You don’t have to, yet you do.”
“I want to. This is my life, Jace. If Grey taught me anything about her love of books, it’s that you get to write the story that you want. Be the character that you want to be in your own tale of life.”
He hums in acknowledgement. “And what if you don’t like the story you’re writing?” His eyes are heavy as he looks at the amber bottle of root beer in his hand, nearly a match to the color of his eyes when they hit the light. Then his eyes close completely, a pained expression on his face.
I don’t answer his question, sensing that it was more rhetorical than seeking an answer.
His arms flex beneath his shirt as he grips and then releases the bottle over and over, again and again. “I don’t know how you’re still single, Ivy,” he says to the counter instead of me. “And I’m sorry that you’ve been lonely.”
Genuinely, his eyes lift to mine, and I nearly fall off the stool. He’s serious.
“I know what it’s like to fall asleep alone and question everything.” He clears his throat, and I know he’s hit a limit on this topic. But the fact that he’s been questioning and wondering about my life is clear.
I decide to give him an out. “What about you? I know I asked if you’re planning to still be here for the New Year, but are there any changes to your plans?
” The once-hot tea I’ve been cradling in my hands has grown lukewarm, but I cling to the mug, relying on it as a comfortable way to keep my hands from reaching for him.
“I have Emmy to think about.” Jace shifts, peeking down at me from the corner of his eye. “She’s been my whole world.”
“I know.”
“And she’ll always need me, especially since I’m the only parent she’s had for years—has, actually,” he corrects.
“I know that too.” At this, I put the cup back on the saucer.
It’s not Sparrow’s Beret, but Clark still has a knack for curating cozy things.
Though, I’m convinced there’s not an establishment in this town that wouldn’t make you feel like you’re a part of its family.
Centering myself with the comfort of the familiar setting, I try to gather my thoughts, my mind racing with the idea that if Christmas magic were real, there’s a future in which I could be graced with the gift of a duo that is Jace and Emmy.
“Starlight . . . this . . . with you”—I hold my breath at his words—“I don’t want to lose it. But I also don’t know how to move forward. Not sure I’m even good at understanding how to embrace the future.” His gaze drops to the bottle, and his jaw clenches. “You know you deserve everything, right?”
At the confidence in his tone, I take a chance and lean my head against his shoulder. I feel the aftermath of the vibration of his breath throughout his chest.
His voice is a murmur. “Sometimes, I feel like my limbs are getting colder. Like my heart just can’t keep me from shutting down, preventing warmth from reaching the rest of me.
That feeling comes and goes in phases. And I’m scared of never fully feeling again.
And I’m scared not to be able to give you what you’re worth. ”
Lifting to my full height on the stool, I wrap an arm around his neck, gently pulling him toward me.
I don’t typically give this much affection to people who aren’t my family or Grey, but Jace unlocks something in me that wants to pour out my tenderness while somehow knowing it wouldn’t be wasted.
When his face is near mine, I whisper the words that have reverberated through my heart since I saw him again.
“I’m scared too. But can’t we be scared together?
” Forcing myself to be brave, I ask him what I’ve been wanting to ask all night. “Jace, can I kiss you?”
His eyes widen. “Ivy, I’m not sure that’s a good . . . it’s just that . . .” He sighs, the tension in his frame enough to break the stool he’s sitting on.
“Not on the lips,” I clarify. “Just . . .” I reach forward and hover a finger near the place his dimple loves to play hide-and-seek on his cheek.
Jace’s shoulders relax. “Yes, please.” His voice has become a fragile thing.
He inhales as I tilt my head up and place a gentle kiss on the side of his face. The heat and smoothness of his skin send a rush of warmth through my heart as the clock behind the bar chimes. Jace hums, and a peace moves through my limbs as he leans his head against the top of my own.
“For the record, Starlight,” he murmurs, his tone satisfyingly clear, “if I kiss you, I won’t want to stop. Just thought you should know.”