Page 80 of Finding Denver

“I’ll stay right here, okay?” he says, facing me, skating backwards slowly. “Don’t let go of me.”

“You might regret that when I fall.” I eye the other skaters. “This is so dangerous. We’re all running around on knives.” He laughs, and I keep my attention firmly on the ice as I move slowly.

“I’m gonna switch positions.”

“No!” I squeak, looking at him, my eyes wide. “You’re doing what my dad did!Don’t worry, Deedee, I won’t let go of the bike, and before you know it, I’m faceplanting the neighbors’ Sedan!”

He laughs loudly. “Del, I promise you won’t fall.” He shifts to my side, wrapping an arm around my waist, holding us side to side.

I breathe quickly, and at least I’ve forgotten the cold. I’m sweating underneath all my layers and cursing the day I met Colt Harland. But I’m also not falling.

“Want to go faster?” he asks, grinning.

I bite my lip and nod. He stops us and pulls off his gloves and mine, then slides his hand into mine, interlocking our fingers. His palm is warm, gripstrong.

“Ready?”

Not even close, but I nod again.

And together, we move forward.

My hands and nose are close to frozen, but with the lights, and the music, and city all around us—I forget.

I focus on the adrenaline, on Colt’s encouraging words, and let him guide me across the ice. I’m laughing through my fear, probably close to breaking his fingers, I’m holding on so tightly. We move faster, and I don’t realize he’s let go until he faces me, his smile bright.

We talk like we usually do. About work, our days, Holly, places we’ve been and places we want to go. He tells me that Glendale was a bust and Spider wasn’t there, and we vow to keep trying to find him. He tells me that every Christmas, Holly loves to come and see the tree and ice-skate, and we should all go together. It’s like it always is with him—easy. Simple. We may be pretending we’re not who we really are, and that can only last as long as life will allow, but I enjoy it, anyway.

With fresh air in my lungs and a smile on my face, for the first time in what feels like forever, I’m unburdened. I’m light.

I’m happy.

Until I lose my footing and slam into his chest, and he only just manages to keep us on our feet.

I laugh into his coat, clinging to him. “You let go!”

“Because you were ready. Or so I thought.” I lift my head to look up at him. “Let’s slow it down.”

“Good idea.”

He takes my hand again and we stay close as we continue our night.

“How was Holly after last night?”

“She was okay. She slept, which is good. She had a fewquestions, mostly about why you weren’t at the house.” My heart warms at the thought of her asking after me. “I know what you said last night is right. I can’t cancel everything and keep her inside forever. But how am I supposed to accept that this is her life because I made a life-changing choice when I was fourteen? Her life is my fault.”

“Colt,” I say softly. “You can’t take that on. You never know who will end up in our lives. You can’t make yourself responsible for everything that happens to them just because they’re close to us. You do what you can to protect them, but that’s all you can do.”

My wedding night flashes back to me. To my hands soaked in Ethan’s blood, to the final smile he gave me, to a guitar pick that I keep in my purse alongside the letter from my dad. A life lost because he was in my orbit, because he made the foolish decision to love me, and I let him.

“It’s the question that fucking haunts us, right?” Colt says. “Is it safer to send them away, or keep them close? Holly’s best shield is also her biggest target.”

The words are like a fist to my heart, and I don’t speak for a few minutes. I guess the only way to really keep people safe is to never let them close to us in the first place. But what a lonely, empty existence.

“Holly doesn’t mention friends,” I say. “Does she not have any?”

“Some. Homeschooling was the better option after … last year,” he says carefully, clearly not wanting to mention Wilder’s actions. “She speaks to some of them, but you know kids. They move on quick.”

“That’s sad,” I say. “She should have a best friend.”