His breath hitches. “Okay.”
“But I love you, too.”
His exhale is a full-body thing. Like he’s been waiting for me to say the words so he can breathe again. I know because I feel the same way.
I turn toward the camera, toward the crowd, toward every person who thought they knew my story and smile.
“Let’s try this again,” I say. “Hi. I’m Luna. And I choose him.”
The cheering is so loud, the rickety old boards are rattling. But that’s not what matters. What matters are the people I care about. My sister is beaming at me, but she points to her eyes andthen at Beau, giving him a warning. I laugh, shaking my head at her. My friends are all beaming. The old ones and the new ones. But it’s him I turn back to.
He pulls me in closer until the warmth of his body seeps past my coat and under my skin, and I lean my head on his chest. The world fades away again. Because we chose each other. And we may have a lot of tough decisions ahead of us. But I know we can get through them.
Together.
We leave the rink hand in hand.
His fingers twine around mine like he’s afraid I’ll slip away if he doesn’t hold on tight. But I don’t protest. In spite of the time apart, it feels easy. Like we never stopped. He doesn’t let me go even when Maisie pulls me into her shoulder for a quick hug.
She gives Beau a gentle punch on the arm. “Don’t mess this up again. You won’t get a third chance.” Her smile is teasing, but there’s a clear warning in her tone.
“I won’t.” He squeezes my hand as if to reassure me too.
The path back to his car is quiet. The wind rustles through the trees, branches dancing in the wind. Fresh green buds are popping up all over the bare branches in the annual promise of warmer weather to come. Now and then, we pass someone still lingering near the outdoor rink. There are parents wrangling kids, a pair of teens taking selfies under the string lights, and the two hockey teams mingling together in a harmony we didn’t share before this year. No one seems to notice us. Or if they do, they keep their distance, like we’re something too delicate to touch.
My boots sink into the muddy path, leaving behind prints.
I’m not saying anything. Neither is he. But the silence has a comfortable quality to it. I’m still catching up on everything that happened over the last few hours. I finally checked my account after the game, and the livestream had more viewers than any of my previous ones, and I’ve had some good ones. It was the dancing. It had to be.
“You think it was JJ’s dancing that kept all those viewers glued to the livestream?”
Beau turns to me, one eyebrow stretching toward his forehead. “Absolutely not. In fact, I’d be surprised if he didn’t scare some of them away. It was you.” He reaches over to cup my cheek. “You’re the one who keeps them mesmerized. I should know. I haven’t stopped thinking of you since the day you lingered into our practice time.”
“Shut up. You make it sound so romantic. You couldn’t stand me that first day. And for a while after.”
He smirks. “I was pretty annoyed that day. But even then, I was captivated by you. You’re stunning.”
“Uh huh.” My stomach flutters at the flattery even though I have my doubts.
Beside me, he exhales.
I glance up and can almost see the thoughts racing through his head. His jaw’s tight, brows drawn. Like he’s still bracing for the fallout.
“I can hear you overthinking from here,” I say.
That earns a half-laugh. “Is it that loud?”
“Only to me.”
We reach his car, and he leans against the shiny surface. He studies me, hesitating for a moment. “I understand if you need space. I didn’t mean to put you in a position where you felt obligated to say yes. It wasn’t even supposed to be about us. When I recruited your friends, I promised I was doing it for thecharity and to salvage the event. So, if you need time. If you’re not ready to jump back in, I get it. I’m willing to wait for you.”
I place my palms on his chest. “You showed up,” I say, fingers curling into the fabric at his chest. “You told the truth. You danced. In public.”
His ears go red. “Technically, Celeste made me.”
Of course she did. I smile. “That makes sense. But it’s about more than that. You’re doing all the right things. You’re seeing a therapist. Reevaluating your priorities. Those are the things that matter. That let me know this thing between us can work.”
“I still owe you a thousand apologies, several cats, and even a free punch if you want it.” He turns his cheek to me.
