Chapter 32
I woke up to pale winter light filtering through my curtains and the ache of exhaustion in my bones, but for the first time in a long time, I didn’t wake up heavy.
The night at Adam’s had blurred into laughter and clinking glasses and the warmth of new friends and family crowded into one room.But somewhere between midnight and morning, the quiet crept in, the nerves, the second-guessing.
I almost texted Brody to cancel, which felt like the theme of my life lately.
Then a knock sounded at the door.
When I opened it, he was standing there, bundled in a dark jacket, with a dark beanie on his head and his hair curling around the edges.He had a perfectly scruffy beard, and his hazel eyes had a twinkle of mischief in them.
“Morning,” he said, his breath curling in little clouds.“You ready?”
I hesitated, leaning against the doorframe.“Depends.Ready for what exactly?”
His grin was soft, easy.“You’ll see.Dress warm.Trust me.”
The pond was half-hidden at the edge of the woods, a glassy stretch of frozen water rimmed by trees dressed in frost.The air bit at my cheeks, and the silence out here felt like a different world, no whispers, no stares, no noise except for the crunch of our boots on packed snow.
“You found this?”I asked, balancing on the edge of the bank as Brody set down a worn canvas bag with skates inside.
“We skated here as kids,” he said, sitting in the snow while navigating, taking off his boots and lacing his skates with practiced ease.“Adam broke his wrist right there.”He nodded to a crooked birch by the far edge, his voice warm with old mischief.
I smiled faintly.“Good pep talk.”
He stood and motioned for me to sit where he had just been.I huffed dramatically and flopped down.Brody chuckled and pulled out a pair of skates that were somehow the perfect size.
With his gloves in his pocket, his warm palm cradled my calf, sending a feeling through me that I wasn't ready to name.I shivered, and he grinned with a soft pink touching the tops of his cheeks.
Was Brody Palmer blushing?
He worked in silence, the wind kissing my cheeks, rustling the whisps of hair that had escaped my toque.I closed my eyes for a moment, letting my surroundings settle me, letting Brody's strong, warm hands ground me.
Brody stood, pulling my eyes to him.
"You are ready to go."
He started to slowly skate backwards in that way that Canadian boys who grew up playing hockey could do without even thinking.
I sighed and covered my face with my mittened hands, "I am going to look like Bambi out there.I haven't been on skates for years."
He laughed and held out his hand.“Come on, Morgan.Don’t make me skate alone.”
At first, it was awkward, my legs unsteady, his hand steadying me when I wobbled.But as the minutes passed, my body remembered how to move, how to glide, and soon we were circling the pond, the cold air burning in my lungs, our laughter echoing off the trees.
For a while, it was light.
Then Brody’s voice softened.“Cass…”
I slowed instinctively, meeting his gaze as we drifted to a stop near the far edge.
“Why him?”he asked quietly.“Why, Andrew?”
The question cut deeper than I expected, not because it was cruel but because it wasn’t.I knew Brody, and he truly wanted to understand, wanted to know me.
I stared down at the ice, my breath clouding in front of me.“Because he made me believe,” I said finally.“He saw me when I felt invisible.Or I thought he did.”
Brody didn’t interrupt, didn’t push.
