My steps echo down the tunnel, hard and fast. I hit the corner and see her through the glass.
Jessica Brooks really is on the ice—alone and unsteady, clinging to the boards like a baby deer that’s never seen its legs before. Something in my chest punches tight.
I push through the door onto the bench, jaw locked.
“What the hell are you doing?”
She turns, bright-eyed, breathless, and proud of herself. “Hi!”
Her skate wobbles and she nearly eats ice. I’m already stepping onto the rink.
Her hair is slightly messy, cheeks flushed, breath fogging. I curse under my breath as I walk up to her, cutting across the sheet with heavy strides.
“I asked you a question?” It comes out in a snap.
“Tiny told me to come talk to her,” she explains, trying to let go of the boards.
“It’s Tinnie.” My voice is flat.
“That’s what I said,” she huffs, gripping the boards tighter as one skate slips. “Anyway, she told me to wait, so I’m waiting.”
“Here?” I gesture at the ice beneath her blades.
“I got bored.” She shrugs.
She got bored.
There are three floors in this facility. A lounge. Two cafés. A restaurant. A rehab pool. A literal spa. And she chose the ice.
“You know,” I grind out, stepping closer, “there are cafés downstairs. A bakery. A restaurant. An entirelobby. You couldn’t check any of those before deciding to break your neck?”
“She didn’t tell me I wasn’t allowed on the ice.” Her chin lifts.
“Guess she overestimated your common sense,” I bark.
She snorts. “You really think I’m going to sit in a café for half an hour?”
“Yes,” I snap.
She rolls her eyes dramatically, skates wobbling again. “Well, lower your expectations, Captain.”
I step closer, my shadow swallowing hers against the boards.
Her fingers twitch on the barrier and her pupils dilate immediately.
Got you.
I lean in, close enough for her breath to fog against my chest. “You’re starting to piss me off,” I mutter.
“Oh no,” she whispers dramatically. “Accept my deepest—”
She lets go of the board to place a hand on her chest and immediately loses her balance, lunging forward. Igrab her waist before her face meets the ice, my hands locking around her hips.
She gasps, wide-eyed, fingers clutching my shirt. “Oh,” she says softly, breath catching, “Hi.”
“Hello.” I glare down at her.
“Anyway, accept my deepest apologies, Captain Asshole,” she says, but she’s leaning into my hold, her fingers curling in the cotton over my chest.
