“That was years ago. And I wasn’t any good then, either.”
I gape at him, completely incredulous. Then, laughter bubbles in my chest, bursting out before I can stop it. Ethan joins me, his body shaking with laughter beneath me.
Couples skate by with looks of concern, and one pair seems like they’re about to stop and help—which, considering their kindness would cost them the competition—is quite sacrificial. But when they realize we’re not only fine, but in near hysterics, they speed past us.
“I can’t believe you lied to me.” I wipe a tear of laughter from my eye, still propped up on his chest.
“I didn’t lie, per se. I was overly confident in my ability to ice-skate on the fly.”
“You could’ve told me you didn’t know how.”
“But would you have still wanted me to be your partner?”
I’m suddenly at a loss for words. Is Ethan implying that he risked life and limb so he could be my skating partner? And if so, why? He could’ve done any number of things tonight, but he chose to be here with me and was now possibly paralyzed.
I’m about to do something really foolish and ask him, but I glimpse Brynn and Oliver skating toward us.
“Are you all right?” Brynn calls out.
Before they can stop to help, I say quickly, “We’re fine. Keep skating or you’ll be disqualified.” Regretfully, I push myself off Ethan, and clumsily struggle to my feet.
He does the same, and we both look like newborn foals learning to stand for the first time, all bumbling limbs and zero sense of balance.
“Are you sure?” Oliver asks, slowing his gait without stopping.
“Positive.” I hobble toward the rail, then fling myself against it like a drowning victim clutching a lifeline.
Ethan joins me, then waves them on. “You guys go. Brynn needs to restore some dignity to the Delaney name.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” she teases as they swish across the ice, leaving us in their wake.
“What now?” I shuffle toward the exit, eager to escape the mob of skaters zipping past us.
“Get some hot chocolate and cheer them on?”
“Sounds perfect.”
A few minutes later, we’re cradling warm paper cups brimming with rich, creamy chocolate, watching Brynn and Oliver circle the rink. Brynn’s cheeks are flushed from the cold, her eyes bright, and she hasn’t stopped smiling in half an hour. I’ve never seen her look so happy.
“How come Brynn is such a great skater and you’re…” I trail off, smiling as I recall our epic tumble.
“So good at falling?” His eyes are twinkling again, to an almost dizzying effect.
I direct my attention back to the ice. “Sure,” I say, smiling behind the brim of my cup, “let’s go with that.”
“Brynn and Harper come here every year. I never made the time before.”
My heartbeat does a funny little skip when he saysbefore, and I can’t help reading into it. Does he mean beforeme?
“And what about hockey?”
“It was short-lived. When my parents saw I wasn’t enjoying it anymore, they pulled me from the team.”
“I’ve always envied that about your parents. They never had any expectations. They simply wanted you to enjoy life.”
He’s quiet for a moment, as though he’s mulling over my words. When he finally speaks, his voice is soft, almost sorrowful. “There’s a downside to only sticking with something until the shine wears off.”
Although he’s speaking in generalities, I instantly read the subtext.