Our eyes met, and for a second, everything else—the laughter, the noise, the smell of burgers—faded into the background.
“Thanks,” I said softly.
“Anytime,” he said, setting my foot back on the ground. “You’re kind of my favorite patient already.”
I rolled my eyes. “You say that to everyone.”
“Only the ones who fall with style.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “That wasn’t style. That was gravity bullying me.”
“Still,” he said, smiling. “You got back up.”
And somehow, that felt like the most important thing anyone had said to me all day.
9
ALEX
The picnic was in full swing, all sunshine and organized chaos. Kids darted between tables, music pulsed from a Bluetooth speaker, and the air smelled like grilled pork chops.
Leo was vibrating beside me, tutu glittering in the light. “Can I go skate?”
“Go for it, buddy,” I said, adjusting my volunteer badge. “Stay near the path, and remember—slow around the little ones.”
He nodded solemnly, then sprinted off at a speed that was the opposite of “slow.”
I chuckled, shaking my head.
Volunteering at the first aid tent wasn’t exactly thrilling, but I liked being useful. It kept me grounded.
“Hey, Prince,” Becca called, passing by with a tray of water bottles. “We’ve got a kid down by the relay cones—scraped elbow, mild tears.”
“On it,” I said, grabbing the first aid kit and jogging over.
The kid was fine, more startled than hurt. I knelt, wiped the scrape gently, applied a bright-blue bandage with cartoonpenguins on it, and told him he was nowofficially invincible.He smiled through his sniffles and ran off to rejoin the game.
As I straightened, my gaze drifted across the park, and that’s when I saw her.
Eleanor Tremaine.
I’d only met her once, outside the community center, but she’d stuck with me. There was something about her, the quiet steadiness, the way her eyes held entire stories even when she said almost nothing.
And now she was here.
Her hair was loose today, catching the sunlight like a golden thread. She wore jean shorts and a soft blue shirt that hugged her curves in ways that made it very difficult to focus on first aid procedures. She wasn’t flashy or loud, but she didn’t have to be. She carried a kind of gentle gravity that drew your eyes without asking.
Ava was with her, standing a little behind, clutching her skates. Belle appeared beside them, all confidence and chaos, and before long, Eleanor was laughing, shaking her head, and sitting down to lace up a pair herself.
I caught myself smiling.
She looked nervous at first, cautious in that way people do when they’ve forgotten how to play. Then she pushed off, wobbled, and steadied. A flash of determination crossed her face.
God, she was beautiful.
The kind of beauty that made you want to root for her.
I turned away to help a teenager wrap an ankle, but my eyes kept drifting back toward the skating path. Every time I saw her, that same pull hit me.
