He told stories of his childhood skating adventures, and the girls hung onto every word, wide-eyed and giggling, peppering him with questions.
“Did you fall?”Morgan asked eagerly.
Creed chuckled, his smirk teasing.“Once.Maybe twice.”
Michelle gasped, scandalized.“No way!Mister, you never fall!”
His gaze flicked to me, knowing, challenging.“Don’t be so sure, Michelle.”
Something in my chest tightened, something uneasy and restless.They adored him.That much was obvious.And I—God help me, so did I.
After Ray’s death, I had never thought another man would step into their lives, that they would bond so easily, but here we were.
At the rink, cold air hit my lungs as the girls tugged us forward.Creed laced skates with steady hands, his focus intent, unhurried.
Creed crouched to Morgan’s level, his long fingers tightening the laces of her skates with ease.“Ready to show me what you’ve got?”
She grinned, nodding eagerly.
“Ready?”he asked again, looking at me this time.Heat flickered through his eyes before restraint reclaimed it.
I hesitated, then took Michelle’s hand.“Ready.”
Together, we stepped onto the ice.
Watching him beside Morgan—protective without hovering—did something dangerous to me.This wasn’t fantasy.This was reality.
Morgan, ever the fearless one, let go almost immediately, wobbling but determined, pushing forward with shaky confidence.
"You're doing great, Morgan!"His voice carried across the rink, strong, steady.Encouraging.
Michelle, still clutching my hand, looked up at me, uncertainty flickering in her dark eyes.
"You think I can do it too, Mommy?"
I squeezed her small fingers.“Shelly, of course.Just take it slow.I’ve got you.”
She hesitated, then nodded, determination settling into her delicate features.
Michelle’s fingers slipped from mine, her small body wobbling before finding balance.Pride and fear tangled tight in my chest as she glided forward on her own.The light in her eyes, the pure joy on her face.It stole the breath from my lungs.
I skated behind her, my chest tightening with something overwhelming.Pride.Grief.Hope.
He let them fall.
And then helped them back up.
When Michelle skated toward him, triumphant, Creed bent slightly, clapping once, controlled but sincere.
“You did that yourself,” he told her.
She beamed at him, and my heart twisted.
I looked at him then.Reallylooked.
This wasn’t permanence.Not yet.But it wasn’t illusion either.
And that terrified me.
