"It is when you started at zero."
A reluctant smile appeared. There it was. The moment he stopped thinking about falling long enough to smile.
I shifted in front of him and held out both hands. "Come here."
His eyes dropped to my hands. Then back to my face. "You're awfully confident for somebody standing on knives."
"They're blades."
"We've already established that doesn't help."
I curled my fingers around his. "Trust me."
For a moment, he simply looked at me. Then he stepped forward. The movement was awkward and cautious, but he stayed upright.
"See?" I said.
"I moved three feet."
"Three more than five minutes ago."
His mouth twitched. "You're going to keep saying things like that, aren't you?"
"Probably."
He rolled his eyes but took another step. Then another. I moved backward slowly, matching his pace while keeping hold of both his hands. Kieran nearly lost his balance. I tightened my grip immediately.
His gaze snapped back to mine. "You got me," he said.
The words were simple. Matter-of-fact. But something about hearing them landed squarely in my chest. "Always," I said before I could think better of it.
Then Kieran pushed off again. This time, he made it several yards before wobbling. Progress.
Ten minutes later, he wasn't clinging to me anymore. Twenty minutes later, one of his hands had slipped from mine. Thirty minutes later, he was moving on his own. Not gracefully or fast… but he was moving.
The grin that spread across his face when he completed an entire stretch of the rink without grabbing me was worth every minute we'd spent getting there.
"Did you see that?"
"I did."
"I actually skated."
"You did."
"I think I might be amazing at this."
I barked out a laugh. "Let's not get carried away."
His laughter joined mine as he pushed off again, a little more confident this time. The longer we stayed on the ice, the more he relaxed. Not completely. Every now and then, his arms pinwheeled unexpectedly, and he'd shoot me an accusing look as though the ice had personally betrayed him. But the death grip he'd started the evening with had disappeared, replaced by cautious confidence.
We made another slow lap around the rink.
A young kid wobbled alarmingly near the boards before recovering at the last second with the help of the older man skating beside him. A group of teenagers occupied one corner of the rink, spending more time taking photos than actually skating. Everywhere I looked, people seemed determined to squeeze every last drop out of Christmas Day before it ended.
After another lap, Kieran slowed near the gate leading off the ice. "My legs are starting to file complaints."
I laughed. "Already?"
