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His words were soft, filled with quiet strength, determination radiating from his touch. My gaze locked onto his, desperation tangling with trust as I struggled to steady my breathing.

“You don’t understand,” I whispered, shame coloring my words. “I can’t skate anymore. I’m scared, Patrick. Really fucking scared.”

He smiled then, softly, kindly, his thumb tracing a gentle, reassuring circle on my shoulder. “I do understand,” he whispered back. “Maybe not about the skating, but about being afraid. About feeling like you’re losing control, about thinking you’ll fall and never get back up again.”

My breathing slowed, the knot in my chest loosening slightly. He held my gaze, unwavering.

“Shane, I’m here,” he continued earnestly. “I’m right here, and I promise you, no matter what, I won’t let anything happen to you. I’ll hold you, skate right beside you, catch you if you stumble. And if you really can’t, that’s okay, too. But let’s just try, together.”

I hesitated, my heart pounding against my ribs, my gaze flickering uncertainly between Patrick’s steady eyes and the skates in his hand. His assurance wrapped gently around me, his unwavering belief thawing the ice-cold fear gripping my chest.

Slowly, I reached out and took the skates from him. My fingers brushed against his, the contact sending a pulse of warmth through me, chasing away some of the lingering dread.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” I admitted softly.

Patrick’s smile widened, full of gentle understanding. “You don’t have to know. That’s the point, Shane. You don’t have to do this perfectly. You just have to trust me.”

The way he said it, the openness in his voice, the gentle confidence, it shattered something inside me, some last wall I’d stubbornly held on to. I found myself nodding slowly, heart racing with an entirely new kind of anticipation.

“Okay,” I whispered. “I trust you.”

He smiled again, brightening the dim arena, and moved a step closer. “Good. Then let’s get these on.”

I sat down on the player bench and slipped off my shoes, my hands shaking only slightly as I laced up the skates.

Patrick watched quietly, patiently, his eyes warm with encouragement.

When I stood, wobbling uncertainly, he stepped immediately to my side, his strong arm sliding protectively around my waist.

“I’ve got you,” he promised, his voice steady, unshakable. “Just hold on to me.”

As we moved cautiously toward the ice, his warmth pressed close against my side, my heart filled with something I hadn’t felt in far too long. Hope, courage, and the terrifying, exhilarating sensation of finally letting someone catch me.

“In case you’re wondering, and I know you are, Easton has the keys. He and Jace are drinking at Lumière, so we have all the time in the world,” Patrick said softly, holding my hand firmly as we carefully eased onto the ice.

Oddly enough, something lifted off my chest, and I relaxed into it a little more. We had time. There was no rush at all. We could take all the time we needed.

My breath quickened as the skates glided unsteadily beneath me. Patrick’s grip tightened reassuringly around my fingers, his thumb brushing gently over my knuckles. My legs shook slightly, but he was right there, a steady, calming presence.

“Easy,” he murmured, close enough that his breath ghosted warmly over my cheek. “I won’t let you fall, Shane.”

I nodded, my heart fluttering wildly. Trusting him wasn’t the hard part. It was trusting myself. But his quiet assurance soothed the worst of my fear. Carefully, slowly, we began to move together, my body instinctively leaning into his warmth.

We found our rhythm, skating cautiously along the perimeter, our strides short and uncertain at first. Gradually, as minutes passed and nothing terrible happened, my fear started to ebb away, replaced by something softer and gentler.

Patrick’s presence, patient and unwavering, grounded me.

For the first time in years, skating felt like breathing. It felt natural.

He smiled encouragingly, blue eyes bright and gentle beneath the faint glow of the rink lights. “Better?”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, nodding slightly. “Surprisingly, yes.”

He laughed softly, warmth radiating from him and spreading into me. “Good. Let’s keep going.”

With every careful glide, my confidence grew, my body relaxing into the easy rhythm we created together.

Patrick moved close, never leaving my side, our shoulders brushing occasionally as our pace grew steadier.

Slowly, the ice transformed beneath my feet, no longer something dangerous or terrifying but something beautiful and inviting.

It felt like rediscovering a part of myself that I’d lost long ago.

After several laps, Patrick gently slowed our pace, guiding us back to the side of the rink.

He reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out his phone, the glow illuminating his face softly.

I watched curiously as he selected a song, the first gentle notes floating around us, sweet and comforting, filling the empty rink with music.

He pocketed the phone, reaching out to me again with a shy smile. “Dance with me?”

I felt myself blushing, a warmth rushing up my neck. But I nodded immediately, moving willingly into his open arms. Patrick held me close, one hand resting gently on my waist, the other cradling my fingers as we swayed carefully together on the ice.

My heartbeat slowed into something steady and strong, matching the rhythm of the music, our skates gliding softly in small, slow circles. Patrick’s breath brushed warm against my ear, making my pulse stutter pleasantly.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about us,” he began quietly, voice tender but serious. “About how we got here. About how badly I screwed things up.”

My throat tightened, but I waited, letting him speak.

“I know I’m too much,” he continued gently, his thumb brushing soothingly along my back. “I’ve always been that way. I’m too much like fire for anyone’s good. I run fast, and I love hard. And I’ve got a short fuse that’ll probably cost me my head someday.”

He paused, breathing deeply, as though gathering courage. I raised my head slightly, searching his eyes. They were open, raw with honesty, reflecting everything he felt.

“But that’s the point, Shane,” Patrick said firmly, quietly. “I love hard. I don’t hold back when I care about something…or someone. And it’s you I love.”

My heart stumbled, breath catching painfully in my chest. For a moment, the words felt unreal, as fragile as the ice beneath us. I clutched Patrick tighter, desperate to believe that this moment, this declaration, could be mine to keep.

“You’re sure?” I whispered finally, vulnerable, hopeful, terrified.

Patrick smiled softly, eyes warm and clear. “Yeah. I’ve never been more sure about anything. I know it’s scary, and I know we’ll probably mess things up again. But that’s okay because I’ll keep fighting for you, Shane. For us.”

Tears burned the edges of my vision. His honesty, his quiet, unshakable resolve, unraveled every last piece of doubt lingering inside me. I pressed myself closer, resting my head gently against his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear.

“I love you, too,” I said quietly, words slightly muffled but unmistakable. “I’m sorry for being stubborn. It was a stupid idea, Patrick. I never should have continued with the paper once I knew I was in love with you.”

“You knew,” Patrick said, his lips curling into a pleased smile.

“God, I did,” I said, words flying away from me after I’d spent so much energy to keep them back.

“I knew I loved you before I ever knew you could love me back, Patrick.” I pressed my hands against his chest. Right now, I needed all his physical support.

The rink was spinning around me even though we weren’t moving.

“I was scared and stupid. I was terrified.”

Patrick gently squeezed me tighter, lips brushing softly against my hair. “I get it. But I promise, Shane—I’ll always be right here. You can lean on me.”

We swayed together, letting the music wrap warmly around us, his steady breathing and solid presence anchoring me completely. It felt safe, like finally being home.

After a long moment, I lifted my head, meeting his eyes again. “Thank you,” I murmured softly. “For not letting me give up.”

He smiled, leaning down to press his lips gently to mine. The kiss was soft, careful, and perfect, exactly like him.

“Never,” he whispered when we parted, eyes shining brightly with quiet certainty. “We don’t give up on things worth fighting for.”

And as I skated with Patrick in quiet, easy circles beneath the dim glow of the rink lights, wrapped safely in his arms, I knew he was right. This was worth every fall, every bruise, every stumble we would ever face. Because together, we’d always find our way back up.