I won’t let you fall #2
The Maplewood Police Department team is warming up on the far side of the rink, their navy jerseys cutting sharp lines against the white. The Fire Department boys skate out a minute later to a ridiculous cheer from a cluster of off-duty crew in the back row.
I spot Evan immediately. He moves differently on ice, almost as though he feels completely at ease. Which is ridiculous, because gliding on hard ice in sharp blades is not my idea of easy.
But the restraint he carries everywhere else seems to shed just enough to let something competitive and bright through. He laughs at something Mason says, shoulder-checking him lightly before cutting across center.
“Daddy!” Elle shouts, waving both arms wildly.
He glances up and finds us in seconds, lifting his stick in acknowledgment and winking with a grin.
My stomach does something very inconvenient, because where the hell did this man get the audacity to look so attractive in an FD hockey uniform, and when, exactly, did he start having a dimple on one cheek when he winked?
I clear my throat and smile back with a short nod before he turns back to the guys. Max and Elle start some chant they claim Mason taught them, and between Remi, me, and Frankie, we manage to keep them from causing too much disruption before puck drop.
The first period is fast and messy in a way I can barely keep up with.
Bodies fly across the ice, while the puck disappears every time I try to follow it, but Evan never seems rushed.
He moves like he already knows where everything’s going, sliding into position as though he’s done it a thousand times before.
Tucker is different. Faster, maybe. More confident and definitely flashier than Evan. He scores first and skates past our section afterward with a cocky grin that immediately earns boos from Frankie and every kid in a five-seat radius.
“Rude!” Tucker yells back.
Evan answers ten minutes later with a goal of his own.
One second, he’s near the boards, the next he’s weaving through two defenders so smoothly it’s effortless.
The puck slams into the back of the net, and the bleachers around us erupt in cheers.
I don’t realize I’m on my feet shouting along with everyone until Remi bumps her hip against mine.
“He’s good, eh?”
By the third period, the game’s tied. The air in the rink sharpens, and the game shifts from friendly to something closer to rivalry. Every hit gets bigger reactions, and every near-miss draws a groan from the crowd.
Mason sends the puck across the ice to Evan, and the second it reaches him, he shifts his weight, shoots the puck at the goal, and the net ripples. We’re on our feet again, and the firefighter fans surrounding us explode so loudly the bleachers shake beneath our feet. Maplewood FD are up by one.
When the final buzzer sounds, it’s to a wave of cheers and groans, and Elle launches herself into my side.
“We won! We won!”
“We did,” I laugh.
The teams tap gloves at center ice, chirping the entire time. And when they start dispersing, Tucker peels away from his teammates and glides toward the boards where we’re standing.
He tugs his helmet off and shakes out his damp hair, smile far too confident for someone currently drenched in sweat.
“Still owe you that lake tour,” he says, bracing one forearm against the rail in front of me. “Tonight’s a good night for it.”
I feel Frankie perk up beside me, her eyes darting quickly between Tucker and me.
“I’m technically working,” I reply lightly, nodding toward Elle, who is now attempting to climb the bleachers with Max. “Got responsibilities.”
“Babysitters exist,” he says with a shrug. “Maplewood’s got a great sky of stars if you know where to look.”
Before I can answer, the gate at the end of the boards clatters open.
Evan steps through still in full gear, helmet dangling from one hand, his hair damp and his cheeks flushed from the game. Elle immediately launches herself at him, and he catches her with one arm like he was expecting it, his eyes flicking briefly from Tucker to me over the top of her head.
He murmurs something to her, then sets her back down beside Max and moves to stand at my side, close enough that I can feel the residual heat coming off him.
“Game’s over, Tucker,” he says evenly. “You boys need help finding the locker room after that loss?”
Tucker huffs a laugh. “You got lucky.”
Evan’s mouth curves faintly. “Score says otherwise.”
There’s a beat, then Evan’s eyes shift to mine.
“You can go with him,” he says evenly. “If you want to.”
He doesn’t look at or acknowledge Tucker when he says it, though. He just keeps his eyes on me. Frankie and Remi suddenly become very interested in their hushed conversation, pretending to wrangle the kids. I look over at them, down at Elle, then back to Evan.
My chest tightens just a fraction as I hold his gaze. “I’m good. I like where I am.”
Tucker’s grin doesn’t fully fade, but it changes shape into something flatter.
“Suit yourself,” he replies, pushing back from the boards. “Offer still stands.”
He skates off without another word, leaving a quiet pocket of space behind. Evan doesn’t look at me again immediately, instead working the tape loose around one wrist.
“You didn’t need to do that,” I say quietly.
“Do what?”
“Mark your territory?”
His eyes flick to mine sharply at that. “I wasn’t.”
I scoff. “You looked about two seconds away from punching him.”
“Mm,” he hums, looking back down at his wrist. “Would’ve ruined family skate, though.”
I laugh at that, and his eyes move back to mine at the sound. “Just making sure you knew you had a choice is all.”
“Well.” I tilt my head slightly. “The choice was easy.”
There’s a pause where his eyes hold mine, and we’re only interrupted when Mason suddenly slaps a hand on Evan’s shoulder from behind him.
“Family skate in ten!”
Elle whips around toward us so fast her pom-pom hat nearly flies off. “Can we? Please? Pleeease?”
I glance at the ice, then back at her. “I don’t skate, but I’ll give it a go.”
Frankie bumps my shoulder. “Perfect, neither do I.”
“That is not perfect,” Remi says dryly from behind us. “I’ve seen how you skate, Franks.”
Evan exhales through his nose, almost a laugh.
“You got skates?” he asks me.
“Evan. Do I look like someone who packed a spare pair of skates?”
His eyes drag down once, taking in my boots, then lift back to mine. “No.”
“Then there’s your answer.”
His mouth twitches, but he’s already turning. “Stay there.”
He disappears with the rest of the boys to change, and while they're gone, the rink turns into happy chaos. Kids clamber off the bleachers, parents start collecting mittens and discarded hats, and Frankie gives me a look so pointed I pretend not to see it.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.” Her smile stretches. “Just enjoying the show.”
“I’m not a show.”
“No,” Remi says with a grin, bouncing Zela on her hip. “You’re definitely part of one, though.”
Before I can argue, Evan comes back through the gate in a black hoodie and track pants, with a pair of skates dangling from one hand.
“These’ll be close enough,” he says as he reaches the boards.
I hesitate only half a second before sitting down on the low seat and reaching out my hand to take them. But instead, he drops to one knee in front of me, and the rink noise fades a notch in my ears.
“Foot,” he says simply, patting his thigh.
I lift it, watching as he tugs it firmly to rest on his knee, then pulls my boot off.
His fingers brush the bare skin above my sock once, then twice as he drags the edge of my leggings down to overlap my socks.
Warm hands wrap around my ankle as he slides the skate on gently.
He tightens the laces with firm, practiced pulls, working from the bottom up, and my whole body jolts each time he tugs the laces tight.
“You don’t have—”
“I want to.”
He says it without looking up, instead concentrating on finishing the first boot and moving to the second.
“I won’t let you fall,” he says a moment later, almost absent-mindedly.
I ignore the butterflies swarming my stomach. “That’s a bold promise.”
“I don’t make ones I can’t keep.”
That makes two of us.
He ties the final knot and leans back on his heels for a second, assessing his work. Then he holds out his hand, and I look from him to his fingers, and slowly place my palm in his.
“Stand up slow.”