I frown. “About ice skating?”
Braxton doesn’t look at me, still dragging himself steadily along the edge of the rink. “It was when we first started dating,” he says steadily. “We didn’t know each other well, so we were swapping stories. Memories.” He looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “You know, small snippets of our lives that tell us everything and nothing at once?”
“I guess.” A couple is standing in our path, clutching each other as they slowly shuffle forward. I go around them, turning around and gliding backward to face Braxton, finding him leveling a scowl on me.
“Show off.”
I lift my brows. “You gonna finish telling me why we’rehere or not?” I demand playfully. “Because right now, you look like you’re being tortured.”
“It’s fine,” he insists. “I just need a little more time to get used to the skates.”
I roll my eyes. “Braxton,” I prompt impatiently.
“Okay, well, you told me about the first time you ever went ice skating,” he says, blowing out a heavy breath as he comes to a halt. His face is shining with sweat, even though he’s been moving as slow as a molasses. I shake my head as I close the distance between us, resting my hip against the railing.
“You mean when I went with Elyse and her family.”
“Yeah. You told me…” Braxton hesitates, looking unsure. “You said that day was the first time you realized what a real family looked like, and that going with them was the reason you love ice skating.”
My chest pinches tightly like my ribs are digging through muscle and flesh. It sounds like something I would say, even if it was a little more vulnerable than I would usually be with someone I didn’t know well.
“Her dad kept taking our hands,” I remember quietly. “He’d spin us around and around until we were shrieking with laughter, too dizzy to stand up straight. I’ve never fallen over as much as I did that day. I was covered in bruises for about a week after…” I sigh. “Never regretted it, though.”
Braxton nods, his green eyes solemn. “You wanted to keep ice skating, but your parents didn’t approve,” he remembers. “They wouldn’t buy you the skates or take you to the rink.”
I blink rapidly, my face feeling too hot. “I was lucky my school had a program that meant I could ice skate through winter.”
I glance around the rink, my eyes flitting from stranger to stranger before finding the little girl from earlier. She’sskating next to her mother, their gloved hands clasped together and bright grins carved across their faces.
Braxton’s freezing fingers touch my cheek, pressing my face back to his. “I wanted to give you that feeling again,” he confesses. “I know it wasn’t about ice skating, but I thought that we could make new memories. Give you all the experiences you missed out on. And not just us, but Mom, Dad, and Annie, too.”
I suck in a shuddery breath, pushing closer until my body is pressed up against Braxton’s. He wobbles, eyes flaring, one hand clamping onto the railing and the other onto my arm. I let out a wet chuckle, reaching up to press my hands to his face.
“I’d like that,” I whisper.
His eyes bounce between mine, a tiny smile peeking out. “I know we’re not on solid ground yet”—he rolls his eyes when I giggle at the word choice—“but you were right when you said we couldn’t keep holding onto the past. I can’t promise not to screw up again, Rumpel, but I’ll never hurt you like this again. I’ll never turn to anyone else. You’re it for me.”
I blink several times, trying to clear my vision. “I can promise that too,” I say hoarsely. “But right now, you need to let go of the railing.”
Panic flashes through his eyes as he looks at where he’s still gripping the side of the rink with a desperate hand. “I don’t think?—”
I take his other hand in both of mine and skate backwards, tugging at him. “Come on, let’s skate.”
“Gracie…” Braxton trails off warningly, but he doesn’t try to pull away from me.
“You march into burning buildings,” I exclaim. “How hard canthisbe?”
His brows lower, shadowing his eyes. “Fire is a lot different from ice,” he mutters, but he slowly unclencheshis hand, releasing the railing. I grin as I pull him slowly away from the side, closer to the middle of the rink. He lets me drag him along, not moving his feet at all, and his eyes never leaving my face.
“You’re so stiff,” I tell him as we come to a slow stop, his skates bumping against mine. “You need to loosen up.”
Braxton narrows his eyes. “Is that so it doesn’t hurt as much when I hit the ice?” he asks dryly. “Because I’m more worried about my dignity than anything else.”
I laugh. “And yet, you chose this as our first date venue,” I remind him. “You could have made memories somewhere else.”
Something serious crosses his expression. “I know,” he agrees. “But there was another thought process behind coming here.”
Curiosity beats at me. “Oh?”
