“Good view for it.” He matched her soft smile as he stepped closer until she could see that he was looking at her instead of the spread-out stardust of LA.
They stood shoulder to shoulder, gazing out over the world. After a moment, Nate nudged her.
“My suspension ends in just over a month. If they re-sign me, I’m back in New Haven full-time. If they don’t, I’ve got options.” He reached for her hand. “I’m not scrambling. Hockey isn’t all I’ve got.”
She glanced at him, studying the calm in his voice. “No,” she agreed. “It isn’t.”
He leaned in, pressed a lingering kiss to her temple, and then gave her space again. “I don’t want you rearranging everything for me, Martinez. Not your career. Not your mom. Not where you’re based.”
“I’m not,” she countered, then added with measured emphasis, “but I’m willing toplan.”
He turned toward her more fully, interested. “Define plan.”
“We map schedules in advance. We don’t rely on impulse andvibes.You come out here during off-season. I block time between tour legs. We coordinate around my mom’s appointments instead of pretending they’re flexible. We treat distance as logistics, not a threat.”
He was quiet for a moment, gaze coasting over her face as he seemed to absorb the practicality of it. “That sounds doable.”
“Itisdoable,” she replied. “I don’t do impossible. I just do complicatedreallywell.”
“Yeah, that tracks,” he grinned wolfishly, earning him a playful arm-slap that he pretended hurt more than it had.
The wind shifted, carrying with it dry brush and distant city air. Nate reached up to brush a strand of hair away from her face with a gesture that was gentle and unhurried. He studied her, something like relief flickering briefly in his expression before settling into something softer. “I like this version of you.”
“She’s not new,” Holly said, slipping her hands into the front pocket of his hoodie to steal his warmth. “She’s just had time to think things over properly.”
They stood there a little longer basking in shared awareness, the city below them no longer a challenge but a backdrop. Nate leaned in and kissed her, slow and deliberate, less like a crescendo and more like a seal on an agreement already made. When they parted, Holly rested her forehead briefly against his, not because she was fragile, but because she felt safe enough to lean.
Not long now before they’d perform their finalTake the Floornumber together. They’d worked tirelessly together on the choreography, chose the song over dinner one night in her tiny apartment. Everything about it was so them, and they’d shared the experience of pulling it all together like a love song to their journey up until now. Holly felt something better than the rush of winning.
She felt prepared.
And tucked safely against her skin, she felt the boy in the jersey grin as if he’d always known she would figure it all out in the end.
76
FINAL SHIFT
Nate
“If this is our last dance, I want it to feel like us.”
“Okay, wait. What if instead of settling there, I rotate you through and we hit the corner on the rise instead of the fall?”
Nate was already moving as the idea formed. That was how his brain worked when something clicked; he didn’t workshop it to death, hetestedit. His hand found Holly’s waist with easy familiarity, guiding her across the floor before she’d fully agreed to the experiment, pivoting them toward the far diagonal where the light would hit cleaner and the stage wouldn’t crowd their movement.
She blinked at him as they swept across the floor, half suspicious, half amused. “You’re rewriting the exit?”
“I’mupgradingthe exit,” he grinned, his hold rock-solid. “Trust me.”
She leaned into her frame, her hand flexed in his like she’d already decided he wasn’t about to let her down.
The waltz track floated softly from the speaker, strings swelling in that deliberate three-count rhythm that refused to berushed. He counted them in under his breath, not because she needed it but because he liked the way it grounded him.
One. Two. Three.
They drove through the routine. Instead of settling where they’d drilled it all week he rotated her through the corner, opening his right side just enough to give her more space to extend. The line lengthened immediately, a breath of space that the mirrors reflected back as soft and free. When they hit the rise at the apex of the turn, it felt like stepping into open air instead of finishing a sentence.
Holly laughed mid-rotation, breath warm against his collarbone. “Oh, that’srude.”
