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I lean forward and brush my lips across June’s cheekbone. When I retreat, her gaze is intense on my face. Her lips part slightly, and I can see her pupils have flared, but I hope no one else notices. With as much nonchalance as I can manage, I shift away from her and wave. Then I snag Tabby’s hand and cup June’s elbow, leading them both away from Huck’s stand.
As we walk away, I can sense June’s eyes still on me, and I’m sure she’s curious about what just happened. I’m torn between worrying I went too far and being irritated I couldn’t go further. But I can’t rush things with her. Too much is at stake with Tabby in the mix.
Tabby chatters away as we make our way through the various attractions at the fair. We stop at the carousel, and I buy Tabby a ticket. She insists she doesn’t need help to get up on her horse, so June and I watch from the makeshift fence around the ride.
As it turns, the animals bobbing up and down, I say, “I’m sorry if that made you awkward back there.”
June’s expression softens. “It’s okay,” she says. “I just wasn’t expecting it.” She pauses, her gaze flickering down to her hands. “But I didn’t hate it.”
I grin, my shoulder bumping hers. “You didn’t?”
June shakes her head, a smile quirking at the corner of her lips and her dimple on display. “Not at all.”
I lean closer. “Do you want me to do it again?”
“Yes,” she says without hesitation. “But not here.” Her eyes drift to where Tabby is waiting for us to wave at her on this pass.
I nod, forcing down the conflicting emotions again. When Tabby is done, we make our way inside the rink. I’m scheduled to do some pictures, and I suggest June and Tabby go and public skate until I’m done.
June’s eyes flare. “Oh, I don’t know how to skate.” She lifts her hands, shaking her head.
Tabby grabs her hand. “Come on, June. You can do it.”
“Tab, you’ve seen me dance. Do you think skating’s a good idea?” Genuine anxiety is on her face. “I barely balance when I’m on dry land. I’m pretty sure I’m not going to be very good on skates.”
Tabby gives her a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, June. You can only get good at something by being bad at it first.”
Those are words I’ve said to Tabby more than once, but I can tell by June’s expression she’s not buying it. The trepidation on her face is a punch to my stomach. No way is my girl feeling like that when I can help it. Heading over to the photo both, I ask if I can take the shift after this one instead, and Rocco Barnett is there, so he agrees to take my spot.
“Come on,” I say, taking June’s hand. “I’ll help you.”
“Oh, Duke,” she sighs out. “You have no idea what you’re getting into.”
“Oh, June, I think I do,” I reassure her, chuckling. “I have seen you dance. And play basketball. I have my suspicions about how this will go.”
“And you still want to skate with me?” She looks skeptical, but it’s more than that. It’s something vulnerable.
“Yes.” I don’t understand what’s going through her head right now, but I don’t like it.
Tabby pipes in. “We’ll both help you. Dad’s a great skater, and I’m not too bad either.” I want to laugh at the understatement of the seven-year-old. I’m a professional hockey player. Skating is my job. But June looks pained, like she’s bracing herself. My laughter dies in my throat.
June and Tabby rent skates, and I run into the locker room for mine before I help them lace up. When we get to the edge of the ice, Tabby takes June’s hand. “Just take it slow, June. Keep your feet pointed straight ahead and don’t lean too far to either side. You’ll get the hang of it.”
I feel a burst of pride, watching my daughter encourage someone she cares about. But I suspect it’ll be harder for June than just trying not to lean too far.
I hop onto the ice, feeling that familiar zing. There’s nowhere in the world better than a sheet of ice. I skate backward and hold my hands out to June. “Here,” I tell her. “Lean on me.”
June looks at me like I’m crazy. “Don’t you need to see where you’re going?”
I roll my eyes, then I take off, zigzagging and weaving around in the crowd while skating backward. When I return to her, she scowls at me. “You could have just told me you’d be fine skating backward, you show-off.”
I laugh, reaching for her hands and giving them a squeeze. “Tabby, you good?”
My daughter nods, jumping the marble threshold to the ice, and taking off. Tabby’s been on skates since she could walk, the same as me.
June? I think she’s going to be a bit more complicated.
“You ready to give this a try?” I ask.
