“Syd, don’t do that.” Her voice lowers. “Sometimes the universe throws you something so ridiculously obvious to make sure you’re paying attention to what you actually need.” She lets it hang there before her grin returns, and she loops her arm through mine.
“God, I love you.”
“Obviously,” Jules says. “Now let’s go humiliate some men on skates.”
With the thump of Kesha still in my bones, I decide to let it all go, at least for now. When I’m on the ice, everything else fades. It’s always been that way. The ice was my first refuge, the one joy I didn’t have to ration or question. The only thing from childhood that felt unapologetically mine.
James steps onto the rink, a man at war with gravity. Arms flailing, he grips the wall with both hands, his face twisted in fierce concentration.
“Okay,” he mutters. “I’ve got this. It’s walking. On knives. With no friction. No big deal.”
“You good there, Bambi?” I skate backward in front of him, biting back a smile.
“If I fall and die, call my mom and tell her I went out bravely.”
“Bravely?” I laugh. “You’re clinging to that wall like it’s a life raft.”
He wobbles dramatically, nearly taking out Leo, who zips by with the finesse of a miniature Olympian. “Okay, wow. That kid is fast. Shouldn’t there be speed limits out here?”
I move closer. “Want me to get you a skating cart?”
James eyes me with mock horror. “I couldn’t live down that level of humiliation.”
“You know the thing about bikes? Same deal. You’ll fall on your ass a time or two. Start with small steps. Get a feel for the skates.”
He cautiously pushes off the wall. His legs wobble, but he stays upright. “Okay, okay. This is going well. My dignity’s still intact.”
“For now,” I smirk. “We’ll see how you do with turning.”
“Nope. Straight lines only. I’m a one-way train. No curves, no brakes, and no style.”
I laugh, and he looks at me. That seeing-you gaze he has. The one that slips past my walls and makes me feel unmoored.
“At least you’re smiling,” he says, a flush creeping up his cheeks. “My humiliation makes it worth it. Not a snort, but I’ll take it.”
Can he ever say the wrong thing?
I stay beside him, feeling protective of this gangly, uncertain version of him. I’ll skate off once he’s steadier.
“Aunt Syd, show me a spin!” Leo does a dramatic hockey stop at our feet.
“Not right now, I’m trying to keep James vertical.”
“No, no. I want to see this,” James says, edging back toward the wall. “Come on, Sydney. Show off a little.”
“She’s so good,” Beck jumps in. “She can do a bunch of tricks on the ice.”
“Okay, okay.” Heat blooms in my cheeks. But instead of downplaying it, I remember Jules’s words. “Let me warm up first.”
I skate off, building speed. With each glide, I push harder, falling into the rhythm. The sharp scrape of blades. The wind against my face. The way my body remembers what to do. I lean into a turn, gather speed, center myself, and spin. Arms lifted, one reaching behind me, the other forward. I twist into shapes my body hasn’t made in years until I’m breathless and shaking.
My hair is a tangled mess under my hat. My cheeks are flushed. My lungs are burning. A smile is wide and unfiltered.
Behind me, Beck and Leo erupt in cheers, their little fists pumping the air.
James exhales, the sound caught somewhere between his throat and stomach. “Wow. That was amazing.”
“Ah, it’s nothing a few thousand hours of skating lessons won’t teach you.”
