Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Scout
"I'm so glad you moved back to Seattle," I say while video chatting with my sister. "Living in Vancouver is cool, but living where I can actually hug you whenever I want is way better."
Sable has her phone propped on her desk so I can see her whole face. She's dressed for work in a cream sweater and tweed pencil skirt because she's a sports psychologist who actually has her life together.
Unlike some of us.
My big sister laughs. "The two Nash girls, back at it. We should plan a night out soon. Paint the whole town vermillion."
"As long as we stick to wine. Last time there were a lot of tequila shots. If I remember correctly, you puked behind a dumpster."
She feigns shock. "Would you rather I puked in the Uber? I was being responsible."
"Yeah, sure." I grin. "The last two rounds were your idea, Miss Thing. You were so busy flirting with those guys at the next table that I had to drag you home. You were a mess."
Sable snorts. "I was gorgeous."
I can't argue with that. Of the two of us, Sable has always been the homecoming queen. She's insanely pretty. Where my curls frizz at the first sign of humidity, hers fall in perfect spirals. Her blue eyes are sharp and intense. Even when she's not trying, she looks like magazine cover material.
I'm sunshine. Sable is firelight. Controlled, smoldering, impossible to ignore.
She's just back from Venice with her latest this is definitely the one boyfriend. I've been through this about fifteen times in ten years, so I just nod while she describes the trip. The city, the canals, the food, the architecture.
I listen while pinning my curls back and debating earrings.
"How's Josh?" I ask, leaning closer to apply mascara without stabbing myself in the eye.
"Oh." Sable sighs dramatically. "He dumped me. Apparently I’m too intense." She waves it off. "His loss. I love love, you know? Someday I'll find my Prince Charming. There's actually this cute guy at my coffee shop I'm going to ask out next week."
I make sympathetic sounds while changing into a soft dress. Nothing fancy, but nicer than my usual yoga pants and staff polo. The fabric actually shows that I have a shape under all the errands and coffee runs.
Sable notices mid-sentence. Her eyes widen. "Wait. Are you dressed up? What's going on?"
Heat climbs my cheeks. "Community skating event. It’s just for work."
Sable leans closer, practically vibrating. "Just work? Scout, you're blushing. Is there something happening with the hockey player you're living with?"
I shut it down fast. "No. God, no. It's complicated. We're just roommates. Temporarily."
Her shoulders drop. "Sorry. I get so excited about relationship prospects, even if they're not mine." She looks wistful, vulnerable in a way Sable rarely shows. "I just want someone to stick around, you know?"
The admission makes my chest ache. We're not so different. Both chasing something we can't name. Both terrified of ending up alone. Growing up watching our father shatter after Mom's death really did a number on us.
"I know, Sabe." I glance at the time and panic. "Oh, shit. I have to go. But let's hang out soon, okay? I miss you."
"Miss you too, Girl Scout." Sable blows a kiss and the screen goes dark.
I check myself in the mirror. The dress is simple and modest, but it makes me feel pretty. Like maybe I'm more than just the smoothie-making, data-tracking girl who disappears into the background.
I grab my coat and head downstairs.
Silas is waiting by his truck in the parking deck, scowling at his phone.
He's in dark jeans and a Havoc quarter-zip that shows off every muscle.
His dirty blond hair is loose tonight, falling to his shoulders.
Those blue-gray eyes flick up and I legit forget how to breathe for a second. Even scowling, he's unfairly handsome.
When he sees me, his jaw ticks. His eyes drag over my legs. His throat works.
I stop, glancing down at myself. "Do you think this will be okay?"
"You look... nice." His voice comes out rough. "Are you ready to go?"
"Yeah." I climb into the truck, cheeks warm.
The drive is silent except for the engine and the turn signal. His scent is stronger here. Sandalwood, cedar, woodsmoke. Whoever makes his cologne deserves a Nobel Prize. I pretend I don't notice his white knuckles on the steering wheel or the way my heart hammers just from sitting next to him.
I'm a mess around this man.
The rink is trying way too hard when we arrive. There are banners everywhere, sponsor logos on every surface, and folding tables loaded with hot cocoa. There are even crafts for kids who'd rather be making snowflakes than skating.
I smooth my dress, suddenly feeling overdressed compared to all the staff polos. I might've overthought this.
At the entrance, I spot Enzo lurking near the boards in his usual sharp suit and smug smile. My stomach drops. Without a word, Silas drapes an arm around my shoulders. His hand curls over my arm like he's claiming me. He shoots Enzo a territorial glare.
Thank god. Silas doesn't know I told Enzo we were together, so now I don't have to awkwardly engineer this moment.
Not the best feeling in the world, but I've known worse.
"Stick close to me." Silas watches Enzo like he's plotting murder. "Fuck your ex."
I raise my eyebrows. "Enzo's going to think we're together."
No need to fill in the part where Enzo thinks that because I told him so.
Silas shrugs, voice low and rough. "So what? Like I said, fuck him."
My heart kicks hard against my ribs, pulse stumbling over itself.
Silas usually moves through the world like the darkest thundercloud, all tension and thunder building behind his eyes.
Tonight, that same storm has stepped in front of me, bracing itself between me and the man who once made me feel small. Relief's so sharp it's almost dizzying.
Dismissing Enzo, Silas keeps his arm around me and walks me down to the benches where kids are already skating clumsy circles on the ice.
I grab rental skates and lace them up quickly.
Years of being married to a hockey player means I learned to skate well enough.
Enzo dragged me to enough team events that I had to get comfortable on the ice.
When I step onto the rink, muscle memory takes over. I'm not doing any fancy footwork but I can glide smoothly enough to help wrangle the kids.
Silas watches me from the boards, something unreadable crossing his face. Surprise, maybe. Or appreciation. His eyes track my movements as I skate backward to demonstrate proper form for a group of giggling kids.
Jessa glides up next to me, cheeks pink from the cold. "Look at you go. I didn't know you could skate like that."
"Enzo made sure I learned." I shrug, helping a little boy in a blue helmet find his balance. "He hated showing up to events with a wife who couldn't stay upright on the ice."
"Of course he did." Jessa rolls her eyes. "Well, at least you got something useful out of that disaster of a marriage."
I laugh despite myself and we split up to help different groups of kids.
I spend the next hour teaching basic stops and starts, catching wobbly beginners before they face-plant, and racing a few of the more confident kids around the rink.
It's fun. Easy. One of the few things I can do without second-guessing myself.
When I circle back toward the boards, Silas is still there, arms crossed, watching. His expression's softer than usual. Almost... impressed?
"You're good at this," he says when I skate up to him.
"Thanks." I'm breathless, cheeks flushed from exertion and cold. "I had a lot of practice."
His jaw tightens at the mention of Enzo, but he doesn't say anything. Just keeps looking at me like he's seeing something new. Something he hadn't noticed before.
Hunter appears at Silas's elbow, grinning. "You gonna get out there and help, Ice Man? Or just stand around looking pretty?"
Silas growls something under his breath, but he grabs skates and laces them up. When he steps onto the ice, he's all power and grace. Completely different from the careful, measured way he moves off the ice with his injured shoulder. Out here, he's in his element.
Confident, commanding, and beautiful.
I try not to stare, but I fail miserably.
We work opposite sides of the rink for a while. Him with the older kids who want to learn slap shots, me with the younger ones still mastering forward momentum. Every so often, our eyes meet across the ice. Every time, my stomach does a little flip.
It's Jessa who eventually skates up with that knowing look on her face. "So," she says, drawing out the word. "Roommate, huh?"
My face burns hotter than the rink lights. "He's just... he's very nice."
"Nice." Jessa repeats the word flat and skeptical. "That's not exactly the word I'd use for Silas Huxley. More... hmm. Gruff and thorny?"
I try to defend him, breathless and fumbling. "He is nice, though. When you get past all the growling and scowling, he's actually really sweet."
"Oh!" Understanding dawns on her face. "Oh my god, you've got a crush on him."
"What? No." My face heats and I shake my head emphatically. "We're just friends. Not even that. Friendly, at times. It's really noth—"
A kid crashes into my legs and I stumble, catching myself on the boards. Jessa doesn't look swayed by my argument, but she rushes to check on the kid. When she gets him upright and skating again, she lets the subject drop.
Phew. I need her questioning me like I need a hole in the head.
I spend the rest of the event helping kids, occasionally glancing at Silas across the ice. He's good with them, patient in a way I didn't expect. Stoic, sure, but gentle when it counts.
By the end of the night, my legs ache in that good way that comes from real exercise. My cheeks hurt from smiling at kids and their parents. Despite spending two hours on my feet, I feel energized instead of drained.