Chapter 13 #2
My thoughts get derailed, and I can’t help but huff out a laugh. It’s official—I think I’m jealous of a seven-year-old as I watch Parker help Erin lace up her skates.
I wish it was me.
I shake the thoughts away because I know I can’t do that—despite every part of me craving to go out there.
I want to skate with Erin. Hold her hand.
Show her what I can do, rather than have her watch it from her screen, but I can’t.
Not only because I haven’t been cleared, but because I’m not sure I can.
I’ve made it this far without seeing the memories from that day, but I don’t know what will happen if I attempt to step out there.
That’s why I can’t have ice evaluations.
Even if I somehow manage to get on the ice for one, I’m worried the ice will trigger me and I’ll see Jack. And my lies of being injured will unravel right before me.
For the first time, the lie I thought would protect me, traps me. I’m stuck in a maze I no longer want to be in with no way out.
With her skates laced up, Erin makes her way out onto the ice. The moment she lets go of the wall, her skates slide out from under her and she falls. My legs jerk in reaction to go save her, but Coach Mikey is by her side instantly. I relax, remaining behind the boards as I watch.
She doesn’t seem hurt or scared, but stays close to the wall, holding on to it with one hand while snapping pictures with the other.
I’m watching her record Angelo showing off when there’s a tug on my jacket.
Parker.
I bend down to his level.
“Hey, buddy. You’re skating really well out there.”
“Compliments later, Harper. We need to talk. Step into my office.”
“Shoot,” I say, trying to hold in my laughter as I shuffle to the bench he’s claimed as his workspace.
“Do you not like your girlfriend?” he asks without missing a beat.
I blink. “What?”
“She’s clearly never skated before. You’re a hockey player. Why haven’t you taught her how to skate?” he asks.
“She’s not my girlfriend, Parker,” I grumble.
“Well, do you like her?” he pushes.
I pin him with a pointed brow.
“My advice?” he says casually, as if he’s some dating expert guru. “Teach her how to skate before she breaks a leg and can’t walk. Angelo says girls love going for long walks.”
“We’re just friends, Parker,” I say, even though every part of me wants us to be more.
“Then teach your friend how to skate. Like you taught me.”
When I look up, Erin is on her stomach being helped up by Rufus. He holds on to her as he helps her off the ice. Her tiny hand reaches out for me when she’s at the boards, and the way her eyes lock onto mine sends a shock wave straight through me.
Only one word occupies my mind right now.
Mine.
Erin leans forward in her seat, and her eyes cut to the house that’s in her view. Gravel crunches underneath Byrdie as I pump the brakes.
“Where are we?” Erin asks, her brows pulling together. “I thought we were getting coffee?”
I unbuckle myself from the seat, twist, and throw my arm over her headrest.
“Was today the first time you’ve been on ice?”
She grimaces and a whisper falls out of her mouth. “Yeah.”
“Why’d you get on a rink full of hockey players if you’ve never skated before?”
She blows out a raspberry and shrugs.
“I thought it would be fun to try, and I thought if I told you I couldn’t skate… with your injuries, I didn’t want you to risk hurting yourself for some silly little project.”
Shame and guilt slam into me at full force. She wants to protect me from injuries I’m pretending to still have.
We get closer every time we see each other, and each day, I lean in the direction of telling her the truth a little more. I don’t want to keep this charade up any longer, but I’m afraid the minute I tell her, things between us will change because of my lack of honesty. I don’t want to lose her.
“Erin…” I start, unsure of how I’m going to word my apology.
“Are you mad?” Her voice is barely audible as she lowers her head.
I use my index finger to tilt her chin up.
“No, Bookworm. I’m not mad. But I need you to listen to me.
It’s important. I don’t want you to ever feel like you can’t talk to me because you’re worried about what I might say or how I’ll react, okay?
I’ll never be mad at you for wanting to communicate with me,” I say, trying to steer my mind away from the hypocrisy of my words.
I’m asking her to be honest and communicate with me, and yet, I can’t bring myself to do the same.
An ache swirls inside of me.
I take one step forward and three backward every time I think about telling her the truth.
“I was a horrible skater, too.”
“No, you weren’t. Nothing about you is horrible. You’re perfect.”
Her eyes widen and she back pedals real fast.
“I’m talking about your skating. I bet everything hockey related you do is perfect.”
Nice save, Bookworm, but I see you blushing.
“Let me teach you.”
“You want to teach me?” she asks, clearly taken aback by my words as she scans my face.
I’m not entirely sure what she’s looking for.
Hesitancy, maybe? Any part of me that is forcing myself to take a step I’m not ready for.
“Are you sure?” she asks. “I’ll never forgive myself if you get hurt because of me. ”
“I’m not gonna get hurt, Erin,” I say. “Come on.”
I exit my truck that I’ve parked just beside the brick wall that borders the pond I grew up skating on. It always felt like it took so long to freeze solid back then. I hated when the spring came and the ice would melt.
When my paternal grandfather passed away, he left a ton of money to my dad, and one of the greatest things he ever did was install a refrigerating system beneath the pond to keep it frozen year-round.
It meant that I could be out here practicing when I had to leave the rink. I sobbed like a baby, grateful and overwhelmed.
I round the truck, pull open the back door, and grab two bags before walking closer to the wall.
Erin pulls the hair tie from her ponytail and secures it around her wrist before pulling on a dark green hat that makes her eyes shine and her skin glow.
“This is where you grew up?” Erin asks as she looks at the house not far from where we’re standing.
“Yeah. Up until the accident, my parents lived there. My brothers left Huxley Bay to start up their businesses years ago but always came back for get-togethers. After the accident, Mom found it too painful to stay. She left Huxley Bay and moved closer to my brothers.”
“I’m so sorry, Chase,” she says. “Who owns the house now?”
“I do. I had paperwork drawn up for it to be purchased through a trust. My lawyer handled the details. I know it probably wasn’t an easy choice for my mom to make the decision to sell, but I couldn’t bear the thought of the house I grew up in being owned by strangers,” I say openly.
“And this way if she ever comes back, it’ll still be in the family. ”
“You have a really kind heart, Chase Harper,” Erin says, placing her hand on my arm, a touch that centers me and makes the world around us fade away.
I hope I’m lucky enough to see yours too, baby. The question is, when the time comes, will you let me or will you run?
“Hop up,” I say, pointing to the brick wall behind her as I drop the bags I’m holding in front of her.
She perches herself on the end and bends to remove her shoes. When I drop down beside her and kick off my own, her gaze burns into my flesh. She watches me pull on skates I borrowed from Henderson Rink.
Surprise consumes me as I get my skates situated. They’re not as unfamiliar as I thought they would be after all this time.
Erin reaches into her bag and lifts the skates she was in earlier, sliding them onto her feet. I kneel and tie her into the boots, making sure her foot is snug and her ankle is secure. She watches, taking it all in.
Learning.
“Alright. Let’s talk blades. Two edges on a skate. An inside and an outside.” I demonstrate, tilting her foot side to side. “We skate on the edges. If you skate on flats, you’ll move slower and it’s harder to turn. Always have relaxed knees. Core engaged. Eyes up. Got it?”
A look of determination crosses her features. “Got it.”
“Now, on the ice, Callahan.”
Her head shoots up. “That’s it?”
“I’ll tell you more as you’re skating. Swing your legs over the wall.”
She swivels around. I stand behind her, keeping an eye on her balance. The only thing separating me from the ice is the wall.
Baby steps, Harper.
The first step was putting on the skates.
“Start with marching on the spot. Feet slightly apart. One knee up and then the other.”
“This isn’t so bad,” she calls out.
“Glad you think so. Now, let’s try swizzles. Square your feet central to your hips. Make sure you have loose knees. Angle your skates into a V shape and try to bring your skates back together.”
She looks down at her feet.
Lost.
I chuckle. “Like this.” I demonstrate the motion with my hands.
She takes a deep breath, bites her bottom lip to help her focus and pushes on her skates until she glides forward.
“You did it, Bookworm,” I cheer, fist punching the air. She squeals, does a little jump, and crashes to the ice, landing on her ass.
Laughter bubbles out of me before I can stop it.
She shoots me a death stare, gorgeous eyes squint at me in warning.
She pushes off the ice. One hand on her knee, the other flat on the ground. Pride bursts through me as she stands and nails two perfect swizzles in a row.
We move onto glides next. They’re small, at first. She learns fast, pushing off with one foot and then the other.
Clean lines.
“Am I doing it right?”
“You’re doing great!” I shout back.
Step by step, push by push, glide by glide, she begins to get the hang of it. Her pushes and glides get longer and more controlled each time.