Chapter 27 Alex
ALEX
Aweek.
It had been a whole week since our date, the picnic, the kisses, the couch . . . all of it, and I was still thinking about her every time I closed my eyes.
We hadn’t had another night alone since. Her mom was back. Tech week for The Penguin Project was starting. School was winding down, and the kids were vibrating with end-of-year energy.
Life had gotten busy.
But I hadn’t let go of the hope that tonight would make up for all of it.
Eleanor was meeting me at the rink for another practice session.
This time with backup. Belle and Mel had practically insisted on helping her get ready for tryouts next month.
“No friend of ours is showing up to Reapers tryouts half-cocked,” Mel had said in her kitchen, pointing a hot dog at me like it was a sword.
“We’re building her from the wheels up.”
So now I stood in the parking lot of the rink, waiting for Eleanor, feeling more giddy than I should admit for a grown man, before finally heading inside.
I pushed through the glass doors. Music pulsed from the speakers, something poppy and bright, and I spotted them immediately.
I was the last one there.
And the three of them were already out on the wooden skate floor.
My feet stopped moving entirely.
Belle was a force of nature, all curves and muscle, gear strapped tight, laughing as she gave instructions I was too far away to hear. Mel was a blur, the smallest of the three but an absolute menace on wheels, dipping low and weaving like she was born on the rink.
And then there was Eleanor.
My breath caught.
Hair in two loose braids sticking out from her helmet. Knee pads slightly askew. A determined little furrow in her brow. A deep purple tank top that hugged every soft line of her body.
She was cute. And hot. And strong. And trying so damn hard.
I don’t even know which part hit me first, the braids, the fierce concentration, the fact that she was laughing, not polite or nervous, but laughing as Mel challenged her to do something with her weight shifted back.
Her backward skating . . . damn. It had come so far.
She pushed off carefully, wobbling only once before finding her center. Her arms lifted awkwardly, but she kept moving, slow but steady, each step smoother than the last.
Belle whooped loudly. “THAT’S IT, BABY!”
Eleanor giggled, actually giggled, and nearly lost her balance before catching herself.
I felt something in my chest pull tight.
She was fighting for herself, full of joy, taking control of her life. And I loved watching it.
Mel saw me first and grinned, rolling backward in that unnatural, show-offy way of hers. “Hey, Prince Charming! Took you long enough!”
Belle turned next. “Alex! Get out here before El shows you up!”
Eleanor looked over her shoulder then, cheeks flushed, braids swinging, and the smile she gave me was so bright it knocked the air right out of me.
“Hi!” she called, breathless.
I swallowed around the stupid lump in my throat. “Hey.”
I sat down and got my skates on as fast as I could.
I skated toward them, heart hammering, and for a moment . . . It hit me. This little circle of light. These women with Eleanor in the middle of them.
She wasn’t just someone I cared about.
She was someone I was falling for.
And watching her find her power like this?
Yeah. I was already halfway there.
After an hour of skating, wobbling, celebrating tiny victories, and laughing until Eleanor nearly fell over again, Mel clapped her hands sharply.
“Hydrate or die-drate, bitches!” she announced. “Come on, food break.”
She skated off like she had rockets in her skates and returned a moment later pushing a rolling cart loaded with pretzels, fruit, some protein bars, a plate of nachos, and three Gatorades.
“Feast, peasants,” Mel declared.
Belle snorted and grabbed a nacho. “You are so dramatic.”
“That’s some pot and kettle nonsense coming from you,” Mel replied.
We all settled near the benches. Eleanor plopped down beside me, cheeks flushed pink, braids frizzy in the cutest possible way. I passed her a bottle of water.
“Thank you,” she murmured, brushing her fingers over mine as she took it.
The touch was small. Innocent. And it still sent a warm pulse through me.
We dug into the snacks, and Eleanor turned to Mel with a curious tilt of her head.
“So . . . does Becca still skate?” she asked.
Mel snorted, very unladylike. “Oh, she skates. But the violence of derby wasn’t really her thing.”
Belle waggled her eyebrows. “Becca prefers her chaos without body checks.”
Eleanor grinned. “That makes sense.”
Then Belle leaned forward, eyes narrowing playfully. “How’s it been having your mom back?”
Eleanor groaned so loudly that the entire rink echoed with it.
“So bad,” she said dramatically, falling back against the bench. “She’s already commented on how ‘roller skating is unbecoming,’ she left me a brochure for a cooking class she thinks I ‘should really consider,’ and she told Ava that her hair looked messy this morning.”
A collective hiss rose from the three of us.
“Oh no, she didn’t,” Mel said.
“She DID,” Eleanor said, exasperated. “I swear, she treats me like I’m seventeen again. I can’t breathe.”
Belle nudged her knee. “You need your own space, girl.”
“Yeah,” Eleanor sighed. “I really do.”
I swallowed. Hard. Because immediately my mind conjured an image of Eleanor not in her mother’s house but . . . next door.
Literally next door, in the empty half of my duplex. Her own space. Her own rules. A place where she and Ava could breathe and laugh and be loud or quiet or whatever they needed.
A place where I could see her every day.
A place where— I shut it down.
Too soon. Way too soon.
We were not there. But the idea had rooted itself stubbornly in the back of my mind and refused to budge.
I was so wrapped in that thought and in watching her talk animatedly, hands gesturing, eyes bright, that I didn’t notice the entire conversation had stopped.
Until I looked up . . . and all three women were staring directly at me.
Belle smirked. Mel raised an eyebrow. Eleanor blinked. “Alex? You okay?”
Oh god.
I cleared my throat. “Yep. Totally fine. Just—uh—thinking.”
Mel snorted. “We noticed.”
Eleanor tilted her head, cheeks warming in the cutest way. “About what?”
Absolutely not. No way could I tell her the truth. I grabbed a pretzel like it was a lifeline.
“Nachos,” I blurted.
Three sets of eyebrows rose.
“Uh-huh,” Mel said slowly. “Sure.”
Belle whispered loudly behind her hand, “He’s lying.”
Eleanor bit her lip to hide a smile.
I was doomed.
Belle checked her phone and suddenly made a face. “Shoot. I need to get to work.”
Eleanor blinked. “Wait—work? Right now?”
Belle grinned like she’d been caught doing something mischievous. “Yep. Bookstore shift.”
Eleanor’s eyebrows shot up. “Just how many jobs do you have?”
Belle winked. “Enough to keep me from getting bored.”
Mel let out a short laugh, then her expression softened into something more serious. “How’s your dad?”
Belle’s face shifted instantly. The sparkle dimmed. Her shoulders tightened.
A weary sadness washed over her features in a way I’d never seen before.
“He’s . . . settling in,” she said quietly. “He hates it. Tells me every time I visit how much he hates being in there with all those ‘old people.’” She swallowed. “But it’s what’s best for him. He’s safe. They’re good with him.”
Mel reached out and squeezed Belle’s forearm gently.
Belle gave her a watery smile. “Anyway. Enough of that.” She slung her bag over her shoulder and gave me a quick salute. “Try not to let Mel bully you while I’m gone.”
Mel scoffed. “If I bully him, it's because he deserves it.”
Belle rolled her eyes affectionately and headed toward the door. “Bye, babies!” she called, waving dramatically as she disappeared into the sunlight.
The second she was gone, Mel stood with a sigh and headed for the back room. We heard some rustling, then she came out a minute later in street clothes, tight jeans, sneakers, and a T-shirt that said SKATE FAST, EAT TRASH, with a cute raccoon on it.
“Okay,” she said, grabbing her keys. “I’m out. Lock up when you leave.”
“Wait,” I said. “You’re leaving us in charge?”
She shot me a look. “It’s the off hours. You literally only have to not burn the place down.”
Eleanor laughed under her breath.
“We can manage that.”
Mel arched a single eyebrow at me. “Can you?”
“I said we,” I corrected.
She stared a long second . . . then turned and strode toward the door.
And just like the last time, the second she crossed the threshold, the lights shifted, dimming into soft, warm hues.
Then the speakers switched tracks.
Straight into something slow, romantic, and embarrassingly on-the-nose.
I groaned into my hands. “MEL.”
From outside, faintly, we heard, “You’re welcome!”
Eleanor laughed, a bright, musical laugh that hit me right in the chest.
“Oh my god,” she murmured, shaking her head. “She is unbelievable.”
I looked at her as the warm light glowed across her braids, her flushed cheeks, her soft smile.
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “She is.”
But my attention wasn’t on Mel.
Not even close.
We laced back up and rolled onto the smooth wooden floor. Eleanor pushed off with a confidence I hadn’t seen before, steady, sure-footed, even a little playful. She glided forward, slowed, stopped cleanly, then shifted her weight and pushed off backward.
Backward.
My eyebrows shot up. “Look at you!”
She grinned over her shoulder, the tip of her tongue caught between her teeth in concentration. “I’ve been practicing.”
“I can tell,” I said, unable to hide the amazement or the pride in my voice.
She came to a neat stop in front of me and cocked her head. “Wanna race?”
I blinked. “You want to what?”
Her eyes sparkled. “Race. Unless you’re scared.”
I felt my grin spread, slow and wide. “You’re on.”
“Good,” she said, and took off before I could finish laughing.
“Oh, it’s like that?” I shouted, pushing off hard.