Yet the thought refused to disappear.
My jaw tightened.
For the last time, focus.
I pushed into another pass across centre ice and forced my attention back toward the work in front of me.
A skater cut abruptly into my path, and instinct took over.
I twisted hard onto the opposite edge and redirected at the last possible moment. My blade carved sharply across the ice as momentum dragged me sideways.
Too close.
The correction came late enough that I felt it through my entire body. My heart slammed against my ribs as the edge caught, skidded, then threatened to give way beneath me.
A firm hand closed around my arm a heartbeat later.
The fall vanished before it could happen. Momentum bled away beneath my blades while steady pressure remained wrapped around my forearm.
Then my brain caught up.
Dean.
Of course it was Dean.
His grip remained fixed around my sleeve, warm even through the layers of fabric.
I should have stepped back.
I looked up into hazel eyes threaded with green.
“You okay?”
My pulse jumped. Every instinct in my body demanded distance.
I remained exactly where I was.
“Yes,” I managed. “I am fine.”
Fix this.
Dean
That was way too close.
One second Luka had a clean line across the ice, and the next another skater cut directly into his path with barely enough space left to avoid a collision. The adjustment happened fast: a sharp edge, a violent correction, and blades scraping hard enough across the ice that I winced.
I moved before I thought about it.
By the time my brain caught up, I’d already crossed half the rink.
Then my hand closed around Luka’s arm.
“I am fine.”
The words came too quickly, because he wasnotfine. I could see it in the sudden widening of his eyes, in the way composure snapped back into place a fraction too fast.
And I was still holding onto him.
