Childish shrieks split the air along with the recorded music playing for the ice skaters, and Reed hummed a tune under his breath as he and Carter walked to the ice skate rental concession and waited in line. After they collected their skates, they sat side by side, sliding their feet into the skates, tying them tightly. Arms linked, they laughed together as they wobbled to the entrance of the ice-skating rink and waited in line to enter the ice, and for the first time in forever Reed forgot about being anxious and inadequate and concentrated on the moment.
Hand in hand they swept onto the ice recently smoothed over by the Zamboni, and Reed’s mouth dropped open in wonder.
“You skate beautifully.”
Carter let go of his hand and skated in a circle around him, arms tucked behind him in the small of his back, his eyes never leaving Reed’s.
“I taught myself years ago.” He held out his hand; Reed took it automatically, and they flew together, weaving in and around the others on the rink, past little children slipping and sliding, and others practicing spins, loops, and toe flips.
From his first time on the rink Reed had loved skating; the crunch of ice beneath his skates and the wind rushing against his cheeks breathed magic inside him. He felt happy, normal, and in control over his body. Having Carter with him made it even more pleasurable; each moment clicking by like the shutter from a photographer’s camera and Reed only hoped it managed to capture the brilliance of the day.
He sneaked a glance at Carter’s face and at the pure, exhilaration of his smile, and a swell of something indefinable rose up inside him. Elated over his ridiculous, unexpected happiness, Reed forgot the piercing cold and Carter’s earlier moody, secretive behavior.
“Come on.” Once again he grabbed hold of Carter’s hand, and together they sailed across the rink. For far too long, he’d succumbed to pain and uncertainty; they made for sad companions. Now Reed learned joy was what you made of it, and holding Carter’s hand tight in his, Reed realized he was happy; for the first time he lived life as part of a crowd instead of always standing alone.
After executing some impressive spins, Carter pointed to the café at the edge of the ice rink. “Let’s get something hot to drink. My toes and face are freezing.”
“You look cute with a red nose. I should call you Rudolph,” Reed teased Carter as they headed toward the exit.
“Don’t even think of it,” he warned. “Whenever we watch…” Looking stricken, Carter furtively glanced over at him, possibly to gauge his reaction, then started to babble about childhood holiday shows as if to fill up the silence blooming in the air between them.
With a frozen smile, Reed dropped Carter’s hand once they reached the walkway out of the rink. Without speaking, they returned their skates, put their sneakers back on, then walked to the café they’d spotted earlier from the rink. A few paces in front of him, Carter reached the café first, pulled open the door, and held it for Reed to pass through. When they were inside, Reed planted himself in front of Carter, challenging him to listen to what he had to say.
“You know, I’m not stupid. I’m aware you have a life outside the two days a month we spend together. You don’t have to hide it from me; I’m not a crazy person who’ll begin stalking you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Reed didn’t expect an answer and was shocked when Carter bit his lip and spoke, more openly and honestly than he had before. “I’m trying; I really am. But there are things I can’t and won’t share; not with you, not with anyone. I never pretended with you; from the very beginning I was upfront about what I was willing to talk about.”
Gone was the carefree, happy man who’d held his hand on the ice, skating circles around him. Those ever-present shadows that had faded over the course of the afternoon reappeared, shuttering his eyes, making Reed want nothing more than to wrap his arms around Carter and burrow close into his warm flesh. He wanted to see that light in his silvery eyes and his joyful, relaxed smile.
Even with Carter’s variable moods and prickly behavior, Reed thrilled to his touch whenever they were close. It drove him crazy not understanding why Carter refused to open up to him, considering how hot and bright their attraction burned between them. There were times he caught Carter watching him with a mixture of confusion and tenderness, and Reed knew Carter felt the pull between them as well.
Before he could answer, the hostess approached, holding menus in her hand.
“Table for two?”
Carter cocked a brow and posed the question to him. “Sure; right, Reed? We’re staying, aren’t we?”
He forced a smile. “Yeah.” He had no right to complain if Carter refused to tell him about his life; Reed had secrets of his own. Secrets he’d make certain to never reveal, aware of how Carter valued strength.
Following the young woman into the warm and fragrant restaurant, the voices in Reed’s head clamored, taunting him, shouting out his inadequacies as if he could ever forget. They let him know when Carter eventually would choose someone, it would be a man he’d be proud to introduce people to, not a trembling mess of a man, such as him, who needed medication to make it through the day without feeling as if he were being pulled in eight different directions.
But Reed wanted to defeat those voices. Dr. Childs told him he was so much more than his illness and not to give in to the temptation of striking off on his own without his meds. Doing so would only feed the beast of his anxiety, enabling it to break free and consume him. For years he’d chosen to disregard her warnings and play by his own rules, contributing to his problems by failing to take his medication properly. He resented the drugs—hated that they were a necessity, like breathing, air and water.
They sat at the small café table and Carter tapped his hand. “Hey are you with me? You look a hundred miles away.”
“Yeah.” Reed blinked and smiled faintly.
“So, are we good?”
Reed studied Carter’s face, his features fast becoming indelibly inscribed in his mind. The slight crooked smile, that sardonic tilt of a dark brow and those eyes the color of moonlight. One night last week Reed attempted to draw Carter from memory and failed miserably. He didn’t want a flat, one-dimensional picture of Carter, he wanted the real man, alive and warm next to him.
But if Carter knew the real Reed, would he still want him with the same intensity?
Chapter Eight
‡
“Ithink itwould be wonderful for you to take Jackson to school today. It would give me a chance to work up something more challenging for his therapy.” Papers in hand, Helen peered at him over her glasses. “He’s made incredible strides in the past few months; surely you’ve seen it.”
