Page 33 of Finding Her

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“Have you ever been skating before?” I asked, looping the laces and pulling them snug.

She tilted her head, her brow furrowing in thought. “Maybe when I was, like, five? There’s this vague memory of a tiny rink at the mall and falling on my butt, but if it actually happened, I’ve blocked it out. Definitely not my thing.”

I smirked. “I find that hard to believe. How could anyone not be into hockey?”

She gave me a look, folding her arms. “Well, not all of us grew up worshipping frozen water.”

“Blasphemy,” I said under my breath, reaching for her other skate. “But don’t worry—I bet you’re gonna be a natural.”

“Doubtful.” She sighed, brushing her hair out of her face. “Even if I have some beginner’s luck, I’m still gonna look like a total idiot next to you. You were practically born on skates.”

I grinned, finishing the laces and standing up. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

She rolled her eyes but took my hand when I held it out, letting me pull her to her feet. The second she stood, her knees wobbled, and she clutched my arm like her life depended on it.

“Okay, first step complete,” I teased. “You’re upright.”

“Barely.” She swayed a little, looking at her feet like she didn’t trust them. “If I fall on my face, you’re carrying me out of here.”

“You’re not gonna fall.”

Her eyes snapped to mine, skeptical. “Oh, really?”

“Well…” I grabbed a helmet from the bin behind the counter and walked back over, sticking it on her head. Her brown hair puffed out under the edges in messy waves, and I couldn’t help laughing.

She scowled, shoving it into place. “What? You think I’m gonna fall that much?”

I rapped my knuckles lightly on the top of the helmet. “Just taking precautions. Safety first.”

“Ugh,” she groaned, but her lips twitched like she was trying not to smile.

“Ready?” I asked, holding out a hand.

She nodded, her grin finally breaking through, so bright it could’ve melted the ice. That was just Poppy—impossible to look at without feeling the warmth. She stepped cautiously toward the rink, holding her arms out like wings, her breath fogging in the chilly air.

“What if I fall?” she asked, glancing nervously at the ice.

“You’re going to fall,” I said. “That’s the point. It’s how you learn.”

“Great pep talk.” She shot me a look but slid one foot onto the ice anyway. It wobbled immediately, and her arms flailed as if she were trying to stay airborne.

I reached out instinctively, grabbing her elbows to steady her. “Relax,” I said softly. “You’re okay.”

Her nails dug into my forearms, and I winced, biting back a laugh. If she pulled any harder, she’d take my skin with her. “Sorry,” she muttered, loosening her grip.

“Hold on as long as you need,” I said, even though I could already tell my arms would be covered in tiny half-moon indentations by the end of this.

When she finally let go, I skated back a few feet, giving her some space. “Okay, bend your knees a little. Keep your weight centered.”

She bent her knees way too much, like she was about to squat.

“Not like that,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. “You’re not sitting in a chair.”

“Oh.” She straightened up, laughing under her breath. “Okay, okay. Got it.”

But the second she shuffled forward, her feet slid out from under her. She barely got out a squeak before I lunged forward, catching her before she hit the ice.

“You’re a disaster,” I muttered, trying not to smile as I set her upright again.

“Thanks, Coach,” she said brightly, looking up at me like she hadn’t just almost wiped out. Her cheeks were flushed, whether from embarrassment or effort, I wasn’t sure, but it was kind of adorable.

“Try again,” I said, stepping back. This time, she grabbed my arm for support, clinging to it like it was a lifeline.

“You’re fine on your own, Poppy, I promise. Stop using me as a crutch and actually try skating.”

“But you are my lifeline,” she said dramatically, batting her lashes. “That’s what love is.”

I snorted, but the word love stuck in my chest, warm and solid, like it had settled there to stay. She let go slowly, testing her balance, and I moved backward, staying close enough to catch her.

Her first push forward was clumsy, but determined. She wobbled, her arms flailing again, but she stayed upright.

“You’re doing fine,” I said.

Her head shot up, eyes wide. “Wait—was that a compliment? From you?”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” I muttered, smirking despite myself.

She stumbled again, and I reached out, steadying her before she could hit the ice. Her laughter echoed across the empty rink, bright and unrestrained, and I couldn’t stop the grin spreading across my face.

“This is fun,” she said breathlessly, her eyes sparkling.

“Speak for yourself,” I said, but the truth was, I didn’t hate it. Not even a little.

She kept moving, and it wasn’t until we’d gone almost half a lap that she looked up and realized. “Wait, we’re all the way across the rink already?” She spun around too fast, almost falling again, but I caught her wrist before she could go down.

Her laugh rang out again, lighting up the space like the sun through a window. “I’m amazing.”

“Yeah, okay, let’s not get carried away,” I said, though I couldn’t stop watching her. There was something magical about seeing her like this—free, happy, and somehow making this whole thing her own.

Even though I’d told her to stop leaning on me, I slipped my hand into hers. The warmth of her fingers against mine made my pulse skip, and when she glanced at me, grinning like I’d just handed her the world, I knew I was done for.

Before I even realized what I was doing, I stopped skating, pulling her gently toward the boards. Her eyes narrowed in confusion as I lifted her effortlessly, setting her down to sit on the edge.

“What?” she squealed, clutching at my arms like she wasn’t sure if she should hold on or let go. “What am I doing up here?”

I stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “I thought it might be easier to kiss you up here,” I said softly.

Her lips parted in surprise, but I didn’t wait. I leaned in, brushing my mouth against hers, her hands curling into the front of my jacket?—

Then someone cleared their throat behind us, and the last voice in the world I wanted to hear said, “Levi Barrett. Just what do you think you’re doing?”