For a second, our shoulders brushed as I shifted closer.
The leather felt slightly loose around the ankle. I tightened the laces, checked the fit, then tied them securely before giving the skate a small tug.
"There."
Kieran looked from the skate to me. "You do realize I'm twenty-one."
I glanced up. "Congratulations."
A laugh escaped him. "I'm serious."
"So am I."
I reached for the other skate. "You don't have to do everything yourself."
Something flickered across his face before he looked down at the floor. The moment lasted less than a second. Long enough for me to notice. Long enough for me to wonder how often he'd had somebody quietly take care of something without being asked.
By the time I finished tying the second skate, he was still watching me.
"What?" I asked.
A small smile tugged at his mouth. "Nothing."
I didn't believe that for a second, but I let it go. I stood and held out a hand. "Ready?"
"Absolutely not."
I chuckled and pulled him to his feet.
The moment we stepped through the gate and onto the ice, Kieran grabbed my arm and his fingers locked around my bicep with surprising strength. "Whoa."
I had spent years getting checked into boards by men built like freight trains. I'd played through broken fingers, bruised ribs, and enough aches and pains to fill a medical textbook. None of that had prepared me for becoming a human handrail.
"Kieran."
"No."
"You have to move eventually."
"I disagree."
I shifted backward carefully, guiding him away from the entrance.
His grip tightened. "Thane."
"Yeah?"
"This was a terrible idea."
A teenager shot past us, spraying a fine mist of ice in his wake. Kieran made a strangled sound and grabbed me even harder.
"You're doing great."
"I've been standing in the same spot for thirty seconds."
"Which is thirty seconds longer than you were standing on ice five minutes ago."
"That doesn't sound impressive."
