“Eighty-Seven?” Erin’s soothing presence pulls me back.
“Sorry, just taking a moment,” I say as I climb out of the truck and round the vehicle to open her door.
When she steps out, she steals the air from my lungs by wrapping her tiny arms around my waist and pressing her cheek right into my center.
My hands instantly fall to her back. Her heart drums against me, climbing louder the longer she stands in my arms.
And I don’t want to let go.
“Not that I’m complaining, but what’s this for?”
She steps back, eyes looking off into the distance.
“I can tell this place is bringing stuff up for you. I’m still trying to figure out this whole friendship thing, but I want to be there for you.”
I stare down at her. She wrapped her tiny arms and hands around me because she felt it was what I needed.
Pride rips through me.
“You have no idea how much I needed that.”
“We don’t have to be here if you’re not ready to be. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable just to help me. We can go,” she says, tilting her head slightly, letting her concern show.
“I haven’t been back here since before the accident,” I say, looking around. “This place is full of memories, but they’re happy ones. I didn’t want to come here because I’ve been afraid that I’ll bring negative energy. This place has always been apositive and fun space. And being here with you, it’s freeing. So, thank you, Erin, for being here.”
“You’re welcome,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear.
We move in the direction of the temperature-controlled rink, the building topped with a large steel roof. As soon as my feet start to move across the pavement, a tightness coils around me. I force myself to keep moving.
The glass and boards come into view, and my feet begin to slow down. It’s then that her hand links with mine. It settles the anxiousness inside of me.
“You can do this,” she whispers.
We fall into step and continue forward. The ice comes into view and that’s when I think the pain will hit, but it doesn’t. What’s there instead are teenagers happily skating, chasing after the puck and each other as they laugh and hoot.
Once we approach the boards and have a clear view of the ice up close, joy seeps into my bones as I stand behind Erin, wishing Jack was still here and could see this.
For the first time, I realize that being with Erin—having her here—doesn’t make the ice a threat.
I can breathe.
I can focus.
Erin lets go of my hand and giggles beside me as two players pretend to fight on the ice. They circle each other with their fists raised, throwing jabs but never making contact.
“Alright, excellent work today, boys!” Coach Mikey yells out. He glances up and spots us. “Looks like we have a visitor.”
A dozen heads turn to face Erin and me.
She gasps when they cheer and speed in our direction, crashing into the boards. They rattle on impact, and Erin lets out a tiny yelp, falling straight into me. My hands catch her by the hips.
“Steady, Bookworm,” I murmur into the shell of her ear. The height difference gives me the advantage of seeing goosebumps crawl up her neck. She side steps me, avoiding my gaze.
“Mr. Harper! Where have you been, man?” Rufus, the oldest of the group, calls, holding out his fist. Jack said he was the one to watch, the one who’d make it to the pros one day.
Before I can answer, Angelo leans on the boards.
“Hey, doll, what’s your name?” he asks, pumping his brows.
