Page 68 of With the Assist

“Not even me?”

I glance down at our skates touching, then back up at her. “Especially not you.”

Her exhale is shaky this time, and not from the race.

“You’re competitive,” I add, softer. “You’d rather lose for real than win because I feel bad.”

At that, her chin tips up. “I don’t need you to take it easy on me.”

“I know.”

That’s the thing. She doesn’t need anything, and for some reason, that makes me want to give her everything.

“Do you do this often?” She slides back from me.

“Sometimes.” I let her glide away. It’s safer with the space between us. “When I was eight, my dad snagged tickets to this open skate event that was hosted here.”

Memories flash back to that day and the way my hands shook as we arrived. She watches me carefully, letting the silence spur me along.

“I’d been playing hockey for years at that point, but to come here? It was a dream. I wore my Boston Blades jersey, which was way too big.”

She laughs. We both start skating slowly, side by side.

“I was the first kid on the ice, and I remember thinking this was it. This ice. This arena. That day, it all became my dream. I like coming out here by myself.”

“I’m sure eight-year-old Nathan would be proud of where you are.” She spins a quick circle, motioning throughout the arena.

“With all of the shit going on with my contract and how I’m playing, he’d probably be disappointed.”

The words are honest, but saying them out loud cuts deep. It’s a confession that I’ve never let myself voice. I’ve gotten used to disappointing everyone around me, but it’s disappointing myself that I’m not sure how to live with.

“Bullshit.” She shoves my shoulder. “You just said it. This ice was your dream. You did that. You’ve done it for ten years. Whatever happens next with your contract, you have to know that eight-year-old Nathan would do it all again if he knew it would get him to where you are right now.”

I swallow hard. She makes it sound so simple. So obvious. Something inside me aches a little less. She watches me while I try to regain my composure.

We take the turn slowly, but with her eyes trained on me, her skate bumps into mine. She wobbles, instinctively grabbing my arm. The sudden movement catches me off guard, and we go tumbling down. I’m careful to catch her so that she doesn’t hit the ice.

Instead, she lands half in my lap, our faces only inches apart. We’re both silent for a second, my hands lingering on her waist. Then, we break out into a fit of laughter.

She bites the inside of her lip as she shifts, an unconscious motion. A nervous tic. I’ve noticed it before. I notice everything about her.

The laughter dies in my throat as my gaze drifts to her mouth and lingers there.

My brain betrays me immediately, replaying our kiss in full color. Her hands in my hair. The way she’d surged forward, not hesitant in the slightest.

Last time we were this close, we were surrounded by a crowd. An entire bar full of people considered us a couple. It was the reason and the excuse. Now, there’s no one here but us. The space between us is charged.

She’s close enough that I can feel the heat from her body pressing against me, close enough that if I leaned in a little…

My entire body comes alive at the thought.

It’s not until she clears her throat sharply and springs to her feet that I realize my mistake. I hadn’t just been thinking of leaning in, but actually doing it.

“Oh,” she says, gliding toward the bench, looking anywhere but at me. The wall between us slams back into place so fast it almost makes my head spin.

Fuck.

I straighten, silently cursing myself. There’s no way to play that off. No way to pretend I wasn’t about to kiss her. I catch the flicker of questions in her eyes.