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"Come on, Avery. Trust me," he says, and there’s an earnestness there that makes me want to believe. So I nod, focusing on the rhythm of his steps, and together we inch our way toward the frozen expanse, where the ice waits like a blank canvas under dim lights.
The rink sprawls before me, vast and intimidating, the surface gleaming dully under the half-lit bulbs. My fingers clamp onto the boards as if they’re my lifeline,knuckles ghostly white against the aged wood. Victor’s chuckle—a warm, rich sound—bubbles up beside me.
"Come on, Avery. You’ll never get anywhere hugging the wall like that," he teases, gliding backward with an ease that’s downright enviable.
"Easy for you to say," I grumble, but there’s no real heat in it. How can there be when he’s looking at me with eyes so blue and full of promise?
"Here, lean on me." His hand extends, palm up, waiting. I hesitate just a moment before placing mine in his. It feels like trusting him with more than just my balance.
As we push off from the wall, my heart hammers against my ribs. But there he is, right beside me, a steady presence as I wobble and jerk forward in a graceless dance. I’m not sure how, but we’re moving, actually moving, and I catch myself laughing, the sound crisp in the chill air.
"Victor, I’m doing it!" I squeal, disbelief coloring every syllable.
"Of course, you are," he says, pride lacing his voice. "I knew you could."
I shake my head, but even as I downplay it, I’m basking in the glow of this tiny victory. There’s something about the glide of steel on ice that thrills, the cool air kissing my cheeks, the sense of floating.
"Alright, Avery, I think you’re ready to try on your own," he announces, and the security in his tone almost makes me believe it.
"Wait, what? No, Victor, don’t you dare let go—" My plea comes out breathy, panicked, but he’s already releasing me, a mischievous spark in his gaze.
"Trust yourself," he calls out, but the words swirl away, lost as I careen toward the far wall, arms windmilling. Ice rushes up to meet me, and I just know I’m going to eat it, hard.
"Victor!" I yell, my voice tinged with betrayal and fear all mixed into one.
He’s a blur of motion, skates cutting a sharp path next to me. Just as the inevitable looms, strong arms envelop me, halting my wild flight. His chest is a firm wall against my back, and my breath catches in my throat, pulse racing for entirely different reasons now.
The world steadies as Victor’s arms secure me, and I’m suddenly very aware of the strength in his grip. He turns me around in his arms, and our breaths mingle, visible puffs in the chilly air. For a moment, we’re suspended in a bubble of warmth on the frigid rink.
"Are you okay?" His voice is low, laced with concern.
I nod, my own voice shaky. "Yeah, I think so."
"Sorry, I shouldn’t have let go." The blue in his eyes deepens, regret flickering across his face like a shadow.
"It’s fine," I manage to say, forcing a laugh that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. "I guess I need a bit more practice before going solo."
"More than a bit," he teases gently, but his smile doesn’t quite mask the apology still lingering there.
"Okay, maybe a lot more." I can’t help but smile back, even though my legs are still trembling. Or maybe that’s just the effect Victor has on me.
"Let’s get you back to solid ground." He keeps one arm around my waist, his other hand finding mine, warm and reassuring.
"Sounds good," I murmur, but we don’t move. Instead, we stand there, locked in an orbit of our own making, the empty rink stretching out around us.
Victor’s gaze holds mine, and I’m caught, unable to look away. There’s an intensity there, something raw and unspoken that makes my heart race. It’s the same look he gets when he talks about the ice—about hockey and those fleeting moments from his childhood that he clings to.
"Victor..." I start, but the words tangle up in my throat.
"Shh," he whispers, his thumb brushing against my palm. "I’ve got you."
And then he’s leaning in, closing the space between us. His lips are soft against mine, a gentle pressure that sends sparks through my entire body. It’s tentative at first, questioning, but when I don’t pull away, he deepens the kiss, and I melt into him, all my fears momentarily forgotten.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Victor
The warmthof her lips is intoxicating, and I'm drowning in the scent of vanilla and something wild that must be uniquely Avery. Chestnut curls brush against my cheek, a sensation as soft and inviting as the woman herself. She's an enigma—a blend of strength and vulnerability that speaks to a part of me I didn't know was listening.