not yet, but you will when you get back and i make you skate drills for an hour on lock.sweet dreams, princess
Nate huffed something akin to a laugh through his nose, flopping back onto the bed and throwing one tattooed bicep over his eyes as though it would help him avoid rehearsal that day.
Spoiler alert: Nate Eriksson? Not a coward. But not smart, either.
24
ON THIN ICE IN DANCE SHOES
Nate
“He cornered her. So I un-cornered him. What!? I wastryingto be helpful.”
Rehearsals were hell. Not the sweaty, muscle-barking, foot-blistering brand of hell he’d come to expect. This was quieter and slower, the kind of emotional purgatory where one wrong move might make everything fall apart. Holly was ice-edged and unemotional, her mouth set in a line so sharp it could slice glass. She barked counts like orders and corrected his foot placement with clinical detachment, her hands never lingering on him any more than necessary.
Every time he tried to be gentle by softening his grip or letting his gaze stay with her a second too long, she pulled away harder. Every beat of care he offered was met with avoidance. Rehearsals had always been physical between them, even when she hated him. But this was hollow now, with her spinning out of reach as though she was a vengeful dandelion puff on a wind of self-preservation, always dancing just beyond his reach.
Nate couldn’t figure out what version of himself she was trying so hard not to see. He wasn’t used to walking on eggshells, or caring this much about what other people thought of him. It burned him right down to his core to think that he could have fucked all his chances with her before he’d even been able to take one.
He fumbled a turn and she clicked her tongue with a curt shake of her head. “Again.” There was no warmth there. She might as well have been a mannequin. At least then he could have orchestrated some kind of eye contact.Fucking hell.He needed five.
“I’m gonna grab a Gatorade,” he muttered, pushing back from her touch, breathless and boiling. “You want anything?”
She didn’t even glance at him. Didn’t scold him for stepping out of their lesson. Hell, at this point she was probably hoping that he didn’t come back.
“No thanks.”
He hesitated in the doorway for half a second, hoping she’d crack and give him something. A glance, a nod, anything that meant she still saw him. But she’d already dug her phone out of the side pocket of her leggings, so he left, shoulders tight and chest buzzing with things he couldn’t name.
The small cast break area was cooler, but it didn’t help. He pressed the Gatorade bottle to the side of his neck and tried to breathe.
This is just to burn off tension. I know.
He couldn’t say he hadn’t realized what he was getting in for. She’d never told him she was a white-picket-fence girl. He’d agreed, determined to have what she was willing to give. Now,in the aftermath of the things they’d left unsaid, he had to hold the line. Respect her decision, whatever the hellthatwas. And Nate was terrified that even though he would face off against any man in the NHL, he couldn’t win this one battle with her.
His jaw was so tight it was practically wired shut with tension. He rolled out his shoulders and headed back, rounding the corner and heading down the hallway before his gaze lifted to the open door of the rehearsal studio. He wanted to see her in the mirrors. Just needed one moment of being able to let his heart rest with her, while she was unguarded.
Instead, he got Lars. Dressed like a catalog ad and wearing that fucking smirk of his. Every hair on Nate’s arms stood up and his temper immediately prickled along his spine. Nate barely registered the tailored shirt or the watch that probably cost more than his truck. All he saw was the way Lars had cornered her again. One hand resting on the barre behind her, the other gesturing mid-sentence, too close, too familiar. His whole body slanted inward, pinning her without touching.
Holly wasn’t meeting his eyes. Her shoulders were stiff, her arms crossed low and tight. Her weight was back on one heel, like she wanted to disappear into the floor. She wasn’t scared. Holly Martinez didn’tdoscared. But she wasn’t okay, either. And Lars knew it.That’s why he was smiling.
“Hey,” Nate said, his voice low and sharp, slicing clean through the air like a switchblade.
Lars turned with mock surprise. “Oh,” he said, smiling like they were old friends caught mid-lie. “You’re back.”
Nate stepped further into the room, each stride deliberate. His fists weren’t clenched, not yet, but they wanted to be. Holly finally looked up at him then, just for a second, like she wasmeasuring the temperature in the room. Not asking for help, just checking if the building was about to explode.
Lars didn’t move. “Saw the door open. Figured I’d say hello,” he added, turning back to Holly with an expression so smug Nate nearly laughed. “Catch up.”
“You’re done catching up,” Nate said. His voice stayed level, but the threat behind it was unmistakable. “She’s busy.”
Lars arched a brow, throwing a sidelong glance at Holly. “Mmm.She always is.”
And then just like that, the strained rubber band inside Nate’s carefully reined-in control snapped. He took one hard step forward, and that was all it took. Lars didn’t flinch, but he shifted on instinct as though his body understood on a basic level it had overstayed its welcome, even if his brain was too fucking stupid to get the memo.
“You’ve got five seconds to leave,” Nate said, voice like ground glass. “Or I forget there are cameras hanging around here like a bad smell and put your face through the floor.”
For a second, no one moved.
