Chapter 18 #2
“Or don’t behave,” Charlie calls. “Remember, sometimes being naughty is way more fun than being nice. Santa’s list is overrated!”
The four of us make a circuit of the rink together, Charlie occasionally zipping past with commentary or to spray ice at Finn, who threatens elaborate revenge.
“I want to skate with Everett now,” Finn announces suddenly, releasing Gabe’s hand and reaching for Everett’s.
In the days I’ve known them, I’ve never seen Finn voluntarily separate from Gabe. They’re always touching—Gabe’s arm around Finn’s shoulders, Finn’s hand on Gabe’s knee, their bodies naturally gravitating toward each other.
“You do?” I ask, I’m reluctant to leave Everett’s warmth; everything about him feels safe and steady, but then Gabe smiles down at me, and I’m a puddle right there on the ice.
“Absolutely,” Finn says with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Everett here was the team captain. Maybe he can teach me that fancy stop thing you do.”
That’s how I find myself skating with Gabe, his large hands dwarfing mine as he guides me with gentle confidence.
“You’re getting better,” he observes.
“Low bar,” I laugh. “I started at ‘complete disaster,’ just trying not to embarrass myself too badly.”
“Impossible,” he says, and there’s something in his tone that makes me look up. His eyes are fixed on mine, intense and warm. “You’re perfect.”
I nearly trip over my own skates. “I’m really not.”
“Agree to disagree.”
Unlike Everett, who skated backward to pull me along, Gabe skates beside me, one arm around my waist to steady me. The solid warmth of him against my side makes it hard to concentrate on keeping my feet under me.
“Don’t look at your feet. Trust your body to find the rhythm. Like walking in slow motion.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” I mutter. “You’re literally built to do this.”
His mouth quirks at the edge. “You’d be surprised. I was the clumsiest kid on the team until about age ten. Used to fall so much my mom wrapped me in extra padding.”
That startles a laugh out of me. “You had a hockey mom?”
“For sure,” he says, the arm at my waist tightening for a second as he guides me around a curve. “Single mom, actually. Worked nights at the hospital so she could take me to practice after school. She was…” He trails off, just for a beat, eyes distant.
“She was awesome,” he finishes, softer now.
I hesitate. “Does she still live here?”
He shakes his head. “Passed away—right before I left for the city.” There’s a faint tremor in his voice. “That’s part of why I left. Too many memories in a small place.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. It’s the first time I’ve seen Gabe look vulnerable.
He shrugs, but not unkindly. “Thanks. Took me a while to stop feeling like I was letting her down by leaving. But then I met Finn, and—” He pauses, glances over at the other side of the rink, where Finn is currently trying to impress Charlie with a wild, windmilling move that nearly takes them both out.
“—I realized she’d want me to be happy, even if that meant starting over somewhere else. ”
“I’m sure she would,” I say, squeezing his arm. “Is that how you became friends with Everett?”
He nods. “Everett and I played on the same team.”
I try to picture teenage Gabe and Everett, already tall and strong, racing across the ice. The image makes me smile.
“What?” he asks, catching my expression.
“Just trying to imagine you as a gangly teenager with hockey pads.”
“Who says I was gangly?”
I look up at him, ready with a retort, but the words die in my throat.
His face is so close to mine, eyes reflecting the Christmas lights strung around the rink, and for a heartbeat, it seems like every sound drops out.
The only thing in the world is the possibility of his lips on mine.
I feel the warmth of him everywhere we’re touching.
Gabe’s gaze flickers to my mouth, while my heart hammers.
My brain screams, abort, abort! But my body is traitorously leaning in. For a moment, I think he might kiss me, right here in the middle of the town square with everyone watching.
“Get it, Melody!” Charlie calls out from where she’s doing backward figure eights.
It breaks the spell.
I jerk back so fast I nearly topple again. Heat spikes up my neck and floods my face, and I want to melt into the ice and never be seen again.
Oh my God, I almost kissed Gabe, right here in front of his boyfriend? What is wrong with me?
I turn guiltily to Finn, who’s wobbling dangerously, having apparently been abandoned by Everett, who’s now talking to the mayor near the edge of the rink.
“Gabe! Help!” Finn waves at him.
Gabe squeezes my waist once before skating to Finn’s rescue, leaving me suddenly cold where his arm had been.
I manage to make it to the rail on my own, feeling unreasonably proud of this small accomplishment. From there, I watch the three men. These people weren’t even in my life a week ago, and now I can’t imagine my holiday without them.
“Earth to Melody,” Charlie appears beside me, leaning against the rail. “You’re oggling.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. With big, dreamy omega eyes.” She mimics an exaggerated lovesick expression.
“Shut up,” I nudge her playfully with my elbow.
“It’s cute,” she says. “I haven’t seen Everett this happy in ages. Not since before dad got sick.”
Before I can respond, a loud whistle pierces the air, and the crowd begins moving toward the Christmas tree. Mayor Reynolds stands on a small platform beside it, microphone in hand.
“Time for the main event,” Charlie says, hooking her arm through mine. “Let’s get you off the ice before the ceremony.”
We make our way to the edge of the rink, where Everett helps me step off the ice. His hands linger at my waist, and I pretend not to notice the little thrill that runs through me.
Gabe and Finn join us, the latter looking considerably more disheveled than when we started.
“I survived,” Finn announces proudly. “Barely, but I survived.”
“You were very brave,” I assure him.
We return our ice skates and join the crowd gathering around the enormous pine tree. Despite my aversion to Mayor Reynolds after our encounter, I have to admit he runs a good ceremony. His speech is mercifully brief, focusing on community spirit and the season’s beauty.
“And now,” he announces with a flourish, “the moment we’ve all been waiting for. Let the countdown begin!”
The crowd joins in, voices rising in unison. “Ten! Nine! Eight!”
I find myself wedged between Gabe and Everett, with Finn on Gabe’s other side and Charlie beside her brother. The energy of the crowd is infectious, and I’m counting along with everyone else.
“Seven! Six! Five!”
Everett’s hand finds mine in the darkness, his fingers threading through mine.
“Four! Three!”
On my other side, Gabe’s arm presses against mine, solid and warm.
“Two! One!”
The tree erupts in light, thousands of tiny bulbs illuminating all at once. The crowd gasps collectively, then breaks into applause and cheers. The tree is magnificent, towering above us.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper.
“It is,” Everett agrees, but when I look up at him, he’s not looking at the tree. He’s looking at me.
My heart does a little flip in my chest.
Music starts playing, and the crowd begins to disperse, moving toward the various vendor booths or back to the skating rink. But our little group remains, bathed in the glow of the Christmas tree.
“Hot chocolate?” Finn suggests. “I need something to warm my traumatized bones after that skating ordeal.”
“Seconded,” I agree.
We make our way to a booth selling hot drinks, where a cheerful woman with rosy cheeks serves us steaming cups topped with whipped cream and candy cane pieces.
“To surviving ice skating,” Finn raises his cup in a toast.
“To new friends,” I add, my cup meeting his with a gentle tap.
“To Christmas in Snowflake Valley,” Everett chimes in.
“To getting laid,” Charlie cheers. “What? It’s been a while, OK. My vagina is practically in a coma.”
“Charlie!” Everett says, exasperated.
She shrugs. “Just keeping it real. Christmas isn’t all wholesome family fun, you know. Sometimes it’s about finding someone to keep you warm on these cold winter nights.” She winks at me. “Or multiple someones.”
My face flames while Gabe simply raises his cup, his eyes meeting mine over the rim as he takes a sip.
Standing there with them, surrounded by twinkling lights, I feel something I haven’t felt in a long time, maybe ever: like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. And for once, I’m not worried about what happens next, or who I might be disappointing, or what I should be doing instead.
I’m just here, present in this perfect moment.