Chapter 24 - Maren
Maren
“Are we close? Are we close? Are we close?”
Emma had asked this six times already and we’d been here for—what—thirty whole seconds?
“Em, shut up,” Will groaned, and tugged her hood over her eyes like he was doing the world a service.
She shrieked, batting him away while Sadie egged him on to do it again.
The Common in December felt like someone had taken every holiday collage on Pinterest and smashed them together.
Twinkle lights draped from tree to tree, vendors huddled behind steam-fogged carts, the whole place buzzing in that very specific “it’s freezing but we’re committing to this” way.
A brass band worked overtime under a canopy, half of them wearing Santa hats and the other half looking like they regretted volunteering.
I was smack dab in the middle of it all, two halves of my life pulling at me like a wishbone.
Liv’s apartment still lingered in my head.
Her wreath that kept shedding glitter, the smell of cinnamon tea, the dent in the couch pillow my head had practically claimed squatters’ rights over.
A part of me missed sinking back into that world.
But there was this magnetism I couldn’t fully shake, the gravitational pull of these kids… and the men orbiting them. Orbiting me.
“Hey.” Adrian bumped into me sideways, with the skates slung over his shoulder. “Ready to get your ass whipped out there?”
“Considering I’ll be corralling the kids,” I said with a jab to his ribs, “I don’t think it’ll be a fair race.”
“Excuses, excuses.”
We laughed, letting the kids’ excitement cloak over us as we headed for the rink. I was grateful. Out of all the men, Adrian had been the most… normal since I’d gotten back.
Ethan kneeled to tighten Sadie’s skates, jaw set in that way that always made him look like he was negotiating a hostage situation at the best of times. Miles stood behind him, holding everyone’s scarves like the world’s most underpaid haberdasher.
He caught me watching him, and smiled just enough for one of his dimples to show. If my feet weren’t planted firmly, I would’ve fallen over.
I looked away first, obviously, because I possessed the emotional resilience of a toasted marshmallow.
The minute our blades hit the ice, the kids launched like tiny rockets. Sadie clung to the rail, tiny knees wobbling, her jacket puffed out like a marshmallow trying to cosplay an astronaut. Adrian swooped her up under the arms and zipped her forward a few feet before she protested.
“Put me down,” she yelled, but she was giggling.
I pushed off to follow, knees stiff until muscle memory caught up. The rink was crowded with college kids taking selfies, couples gliding hand-in-hand, and other children laughing and talking above the noise.
Emma skated past, hair flying behind her. “Maren, watch this!” right before she attempted a spin that ended with her sliding into the side barrier like a curling stone.
“She’s fine,” Adrian said, skating by. “Probably.”
He looped back, spinning around to face me as he skated backward. Show-off.
“So,” he said casually, “you quit.”
I stumbled immediately, wheels turning in my brain, as my eyes snapped to his. “I— okay… Wow. Subtle.”
He brushed it off and continued, “You leaving really messed them up. Not gonna lie.”
It messed me up too. But I couldn’t say it. “Sorry. I know.”
“Us, too,” he added, a little quieter. The sincerity shone in his eyes.
His breath puffed in the cold, hair sticking out from under a beanie that didn’t match anything he was wearing. Adrian didn’t hide. Ever. And it made something inside me unclench, just a little.
“I didn’t think anyone would care,” I admitted.
His skate wobbled slightly, just enough to make me reach out without thinking, fingertips grazing his elbow. We both slowed at the touch, drifting along with momentum, not really giving any more push.
“We cared. Or at least I did,” he said, voice low enough that it wasn’t for the rink to hear. Then he pulled his scarf from around his neck and snapped it loudly at someone skating past. “Can’t speak for Mr. Centerfold over here.”
It was Miles, who jerked back in time to avoid the attack. Adrian burst out laughing and zipped off in a hurry. When I stopped watching his easy, confident skating on the ice, I became achingly aware that Miles had slowed to skate with me.
There was a rhythm to it—the scrape of blades on ice, the faint pop of skates hitting small patches of rough surface, the occasional squeal of kids weaving past us.
Cold air bit my cheeks, but everywhere else I was warm.
Or maybe just alert to the space he occupied next to me, a heat I hadn’t felt in a while.
“So…” Miles’ smooth voice cut through my hyper-awareness, like he’d tossed a pebble into the pond and was waiting for ripples. “Get up to anything exciting while you were away?”
I blinked into the painfully obvious attempt at small talk, then snorted a laugh. “Nothing much. A few high-profile parties, climbed Mount Everest, solved the global economic crisis.”
“You couldn’t find time to deal with climate change?” he asked, aghast. Then shook his head slowly. “Women.”
“It was on my list,” I said, glancing sideways, “but I had to break for lunch, so…”
He laughed, just a little, and it hit somewhere under my ribs and some of the tension I’d been holding onto began to seep away. The space between us grew soft.
My elbow brushed his accidentally, but he didn’t pull away.
He dipped his shoulder closer, the cold wind off the Charles whipping strands of my hair across my forehead, and it felt less like the city and more like a bubble we’d carved out of it.
Without thinking, I let him guide my hand to his.
We skated together like that, quiet but aware, until he slowed, eyes locking with mine in that way that made the air thrum with something unspoken.
So much was going on in that one look, that I found myself bracing against what he was about to say next.
“Fore!” Adrian’s voice split the bubble.
We both turned, just in time to see Sadie careening toward us, arms flailing, terror and joy competing on her tiny face. Miles threw his hands up, spinning backward a half-step to avoid a collision.
“Not mine,” he yelled. “I can barely keep myself upright over here.”
I didn’t have the luxury of hesitation. A little squeak of “Help” whimpered out as she slammed into me, knocking the air out of my lungs in a burst of small, chaotic weight.
My skates wobbled, knees threatening rebellion, and I tried to steady Sadie at the same time, but it was hopeless. I was going down. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for impact.
But it never came.
Eyes snapping open, I found myself staring straight into Ethan’s, his strong arm wrapped tight around my waist.
“Someone call for help?” A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
My cheeks warmed. Whether from the cold or mortification, I couldn’t decide. “I— I’m okay,” I stammered, still holding onto Sadie.
“You sure?” he asked, not letting go just yet, eyes scanning mine as if he could measure the honesty in my breath.
Adrian swooped in at that exact moment, finally catching up to wrest Sadie from my grip before she tripped again. “Gotcha, you little firecracker!”
Then he tilted his head at Miles, who had conveniently parked himself a few feet back. “Way to run away from danger, Not-Superman.”
“No way I’m hitting the ice and risking all of this,” he said, motioning to his face. “Need I remind you, this face is our moneymaker.”
Ethan rolled his eyes, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “Of course. Our success has nothing to do with combined talent and solid business sense.”
My laugh was light and untethered, like some of the tension had leaked out of my chest in the cold air.
We lingered there, a small cluster of motion and laughter, skating in shallow circles so none of us had to let go of the other’s energy.
The kids had temporarily scattered, leaving the three of them orbiting me in that easy way that felt familiar again, the teasing and banter binding us tighter than any apology ever could.
I shoved a strand of hair from my face and let myself sink into the movement of it all. Maybe things were… almost back to normal. Almost.
“Can we get some hot cocoa?”
I turned just in time to see Emma and Will skating toward us, cheeks pink, all enthusiasm and zero chill.
We peeled ourselves off the ice with varying degrees of grace.
Emma and Will bolted ahead like it was a race against frostbite, their skates bouncing up and down in a rapid staccato.
I trailed behind, hands tucked into the pockets of my coat, catching my breath.
The steam from a nearby roasted chestnut cart curled upward, twisting around my thoughts as I considered how easily we’d found our rhythm from before.
“Are you guys having any?” Will called over his shoulder when we got to the stall.
“Hell yeah,” Adrian said, voice pitched like this was a matter of national importance. He snagged Sadie’s hand and tugged her forward.
Miles stayed with me, his glove brushing mine as we navigated around the scattered crowd. Everything he did, every subtle angle of his stance, seemed like it was designed to nudge me awake to his presence without saying a word.
Steam wrapped around the mugs, a rich chocolate scent drifting into the cold air.
I cradled mine in both hands, letting the heat seep through the fabric of my gloves and into my fingers.
Miles held his close, eyes tracking the kids as they danced between people and kiosks, grabbing candy canes and tossing them into the air like confetti.
“They’re doing it!” Will suddenly yelled, pointing toward the giant tree at the center of the Common.