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.
