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The two of us skated around the rink as I tried to get my wild heartbeat under control.
Skating always felt right to me, like freedom. But skating with him at my side felt even better. Even though Sebastian wasn’t very talkative, there was companionable silence in the swish-swish of our blades moving across the ice. He pushed me to skate faster to keep up with him, but it felt good; it felt more like flying than ever. His towering presence beside me felt warm and solid as we raced across the ice.
I didn’t ever want it to end.
But that was exactly why I needed to know what was going on. Why these men kept watching me.
Why I felt a pull toward them.
I skated ahead, then turned to face him.
He stopped, a plume of ice flying up from his blades as he turned his body. Our bodies were just inches apart.
My heart raced faster than ever. Maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe I should just enjoy these moments of skating together, the burst of reckless joy.
But would he go back to ignoring me tomorrow?
“What is it?” he murmured, looking down into my face.
I couldn’t get my voice to come out as more than a whisper. “Do you know me?”
He jolted back as if I’d just slapped him. “What are you talking about?”
“I have amnesia,” I explained, trying to smooth things over. “I don’t remember anything about who I was.”
“Then…how do you know your name?” he asked me, frowning. “You don’t remember anything else?”
I touched the repaired necklace, which I wore under my sweatshirt. I wore it almost all the time. “I had a name necklace on.”
His face clouded. It had to be because he was shocked I had amnesia…didn’t it? “That was convenient.”
“Yep,” I said, feeling suddenly exasperated. “That’s been the whole story of my amnesia. Super convenient.”
He crossed his arms over his chest.
“And no, I don’t remember anything else,” I said. “But I know that when I come into this rink, it feels like…home.”
The closest I’d come to home so far, at least.
“Maybe you used to skate,” he said.
“I’m sure I used to skate. But…do you remember me? Maybe we saw each other at a rink sometime, or…” I couldn’t go any further with ways we might have known each other, in another world. “You just look at me sometimes like you recognize me.”
He shook his head. “Nope.”
His face was closed off. It was the same stoic, serious expression he wore on the flags, as if he were facing an opponent.
“I’m sorry,” he said, a beat too late, as if he were remembering the lines a normal person would say talking to someone who had lost their memories. “I wish I could tell you something.”
“I wish you would too.” It felt like he was lying to me, and fury pulsed through my gut. Why would he be lying to me? Why would anyone keep the truth about my background away from me?
I started to skate away. I was almost to the open gate to the penalty box where Jack seemed to spend too much time. Then I turned back.
“Was I Greyson’s girlfriend?” I demanded. “Did you know me back then? Before you guys started to hate each other?”
Expressions flickered across his face, too fast for me to read. Anger? Jealousy? Worry? By the time he skated toward me, his face was unreadable.
“Greyson’s girlfriend?” he scoffed, as if that were a ridiculous idea. “You’re too good for him, obviously.”
