He loosens my laces, taking my shoes off and placing them to the side. He nods for me to stick my foot in the first skate that he’s placed on the ground in front of me. I shove it in.
He lifts my foot, placing the skate between his knees, then tightens the laces just right. He repeats the same process for my other skate. There’s something comforting about the routine andthe care he takes. With him kneeling in front of me, I notice his hair and smile. It’s still messy from the car, from my hands.
I hadn’t wanted to stop, but things were getting out of control fast. I wouldn’t have minded, if we weren’t in a random parking lot where anyone could see us.
“There,” he says, the light catching his eyes.
Watching him lace my skates has me thinking about how he came for me today, how scared he was, and how he didn’t try to hide it. For a grumpy asshole, he lets me see all kinds of sides to him. I should do the same. Georgia told me this morning I should think about why I’m pushing him away and if it’s the right direction for me. It’s not. I’m not one to hide away, but with Luke I am.
“My dad never did this,” I say quietly. “Never checked where I was. Never worried like that.”
Luke looks up, hands still on my skates.
“After my mom died, he just stopped caring about a lot of things. He went through the motions. My sister tried to help, but she had her own life.” I never let her know how things really were at home after she left for college.
“I made our meals, did my homework even when I didn’t understand it, and learned not to depend on anyone.” I swallow. “I decided I’d never let someone matter that much. To depend on a person so deeply. Never fall in love. What if I lost them? What if I ended up like him, just existing instead of living?”
Luke cups the back of my neck, his grip firm and calming. Without saying a word, he lets me know he won’t let me run from him. While Luke and I were raised worlds apart, there are some strong similarities about our childhood.
“I can see that. You’ve got a tough shell, Buttercup, but you’re all sweetness underneath. You care deeply about the people you love.” He really sees me. “Are you going to let that fear control you?”
“Or I could let you control me,” I tease, but Luke doesn’t smile. He knows I’m not trying to run from this conversation.
Luke stands and pulls me up too. His hands rest on my waist.
“What are you feeling right now?” he asks.
I look at him, this boy who tracked me down, who left practice for me, who laces my skates like they’re the most important thing in the world.
“Now, I’m terrified,” I admit. “Because I’m all in, Luke. I don’t know how to do things halfway. And if something happens to you?—”
“It won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
He pulls me closer until our foreheads touch, his breath warm against my skin.
“Then we’ll be terrified together,” he says. “But I’m not going anywhere. And neither are you.” I love hearing him say that.
We step onto the ice and glide to the center of the empty rink. For this moment, I let myself believe him. I turn myself over to him, trusting he’ll take care of my heart the same way he has everything else when it comes to me.
“All right, Buttercup. Why don’t you show me something?” Luke says as he pushes off backward, facing me. “Impress me.”
I laugh, my voice echoing in the empty rink. “You hockey boys! Everything turns into a competition with you.”
“It’s hard not to when you’re always winning.” He gives me a cocky but playful grin. But he has reason to be cocky. He kills it on the ice and often almost kills others on it too.
I do what I know these giant-ass athletes can’t. I take off, picking up speed, feel the familiar glide, and then launch into a simple spin. It’s not fancy, but it’s clean. When I stop, he’s watching, eyebrows raised.
“All right,” he says. “My turn.”
He takes off, trying to copy, arms outstretched, blades scratching loudly. He makes it halfway around before his edges betray him, his arms windmilling. I slide over and catch his elbow, steadying him, both of us laughing.
“Smooth,” I say.
“All right, brat.”
He retaliates by challenging me to a race, laps around the rink. I already know I’m not going to win this even with my long-ass legs to help: his power against my control, him winning on the turns, and me almost catching him on the straightaways. I think he let me. Next time I’ll bring my hockey skates. Give him a real run for his money. We’re breathless, cheeks flushed, all the shit from today sliding off us with every push.
