Eva’s smile turned sharp and delighted. “Oh.”
I pretended not to understand what she meant.
Kitty glanced up, her gaze sweeping the rink, and her eyes landed on me. The shift in her face was immediate. She knew. She had looked me up. She had found the old versions of me online.
She turned slightly, and for a moment it looked like she might change direction.
Then Abby, of course, chose that exact moment to wobble with confidence and veer straight toward Kitty like a tiny missile in bright skates.
“Abby,” I called.
I was too late.
Abby collided gently into Kitty’s side. Kitty stumbled, caught herself, then reached out instinctively and steadied Abby by the shoulders before either of them fell.
Abby looked up, horrified. “I’m sorry.”
Kitty blinked, then smiled, the reflexive kind that softened quickly into something real. “It’s okay. You did a good job not falling.”
Abby’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Really,” Kitty replied.
“Abby, you menace. Are you all right?” Eva asked Kitty, though the question sounded far too amused to be sincere.
“I’m fine,” Kitty said, brushing hair back beneath her hat. Her gaze flicked to me again, cautious now.
I moved closer, heart doing something inconvenient. “Hey.”
“Hi,” she replied.
For a moment, it felt like the ice beneath us had become thinner.
Eva extended a hand without hesitation. “I’m Eva, Caleb’s sister. And this is my daughter Abby.”
Abby waved, then looked back at Kitty. “I didn’t mean to crash into you.”
“I’m Kitty Bennet and this is my sister Meri.” Kitty smiled again. “I know. You’re just learning. It happens.”
The words were gentle, but they landed hard in my chest anyway, because they sounded like my own.
I was suddenly very aware that I still hadn’t said what I should have said after the guitar lesson. I should have explained things better.
And I might not get a better chance than this.
Eva didn’t miss the tension. She took one look at the way Kitty and I were standing a fraction too far apart and smiled like she had just been handed front-row seats to something entertaining.
“Well,” she said brightly, “this is perfect timing.”
Abby clutched Kitty’s sleeve. “Can you show me how to do the turn without my feet going everywhere? Just like you were doing before I skated into you?”
Kitty glanced at me first, as if checking whether it was all right for her to answer. That small instinctive pause did something sharp and uncomfortable to my chest.
“Sure,” she said to Abby. “Do you want to try it together?”
Abby nodded vigorously.
Kitty skated a short distance ahead, then slowed so Abby could follow. She bent her knees slightly, demonstrating the movement with an ease that made it look effortless. Her instructions were clear but gentle, offering suggestions rather than corrections.
