An ache swirls inside of me.
I take one step forward and three backward every time I think about telling her the truth.
“I was a horrible skater, too.”
“No, you weren’t. Nothing about you is horrible. You’re perfect.”
Her eyes widen and she back pedals real fast.
“I’m talking about your skating. I bet everything hockey related you do is perfect.”
Nice save, Bookworm, but I see you blushing.
“Let me teach you.”
“You want to teach me?” she asks, clearly taken aback by my words as she scans my face. I’m not entirely sure what she’s looking for. Hesitancy, maybe? Any part of me that is forcing myself to take a step I’m not ready for. “Are you sure?” she asks. “I’ll never forgive myself if you get hurt because of me.”
“I’m not gonna get hurt, Erin,” I say. “Come on.”
I exit my truck that I’ve parked just beside the brick wall that borders the pond I grew up skating on. It always felt like it took so long to freeze solid back then. I hated when the spring came and the ice would melt.
When my paternal grandfather passed away, he left a ton of money to my dad, and one of the greatest things he ever did was install a refrigerating system beneath the pond to keep it frozen year-round.
It meant that I could be out here practicing when I had to leave the rink. I sobbed like a baby, grateful and overwhelmed.
I round the truck, pull open the back door, and grab two bags before walking closer to the wall.
Erin pulls the hair tie from her ponytail and secures it around her wrist before pulling on a dark green hat that makes her eyes shine and her skin glow.
“This is where you grew up?” Erin asks as she looks at the house not far from where we’re standing.
“Yeah. Up until the accident, my parents lived there. My brothers left Huxley Bay to start up their businesses years ago but always came back for get-togethers. After the accident, Mom found it too painful to stay. She left Huxley Bay and moved closer to my brothers.”
“I’m so sorry, Chase,” she says. “Who owns the house now?”
“I do. I had paperwork drawn up for it to be purchased through a trust. My lawyer handled the details. I know it probably wasn’t an easy choice for my mom to make the decision to sell, but I couldn’t bear the thought of the house I grew up in being owned by strangers,” I say openly. “And this way if she ever comes back, it’ll still be in the family.”
“You have a really kind heart, Chase Harper,” Erin says, placing her hand on my arm, a touch that centers me and makes the world around us fade away.
I hope I’m lucky enough to see yours too, baby. The question is, when the time comes, will you let me or will you run?
“Hop up,” I say, pointing to the brick wall behind her as I drop the bags I’m holding in front of her.
She perches herself on the end and bends to remove her shoes. When I drop down beside her and kick off my own, her gaze burns into my flesh. She watches me pull on skates I borrowed from Henderson Rink.
Surprise consumes me as I get my skates situated. They’re not as unfamiliar as I thought they would be after all this time.
Erin reaches into her bag and lifts the skates she was in earlier, sliding them onto her feet. I kneel and tie her into the boots, making sure her foot is snug and her ankle is secure. She watches, taking it all in.
Learning.
“Alright. Let’s talk blades. Two edges on a skate. An inside and an outside.” I demonstrate, tilting her foot side to side. “We skate on the edges. If you skate on flats, you’ll move slower and it’s harder to turn. Always have relaxed knees. Core engaged. Eyes up. Got it?”
A look of determination crosses her features. “Got it.”
“Now, on the ice, Callahan.”
Her head shoots up. “That’s it?”
