Page 20

T he ice has always been the one place where I can clear my head.

Even before I started coaching, even before my entire life became a juggling act of schedules, contracts, and custody battles—this was my reset button.

Just me, my skates, and the kind of quiet that doesn’t ask for anything.

I skate the length of the rink, pushing off hard, feeling the burn in my legs, the sharp bite of cold air against my face.

But it doesn’t work tonight.

Not when my brain is still replaying the way Kenzie looked at me before she walked out.

Not when my gut is telling me that I might have just lost her for good.

I exhale hard, slowing my pace, dragging a hand through my hair.

It’s fine.

I knew what this was from the start.

I knew she wasn’t built for permanence, that the second things got complicated, she’d run.

I knew—

Then, the door opens.

And somehow, I already know it’s her.

I don’t turn around right away. I could. But I make her wait.

Because if she’s here to end this, to tell me she made a mistake, that we were never meant to be anything more than a one-night distraction—I’m not going to make it easy for her.

I won’t chase her.

Not anymore.

So I keep my back to her, skating one more slow lap around the rink.

Testing her patience.

Testing myself.

Then I stop.

Turn.

And our eyes meet.

She’s standing just inside the rink, arms wrapped around herself, like she’s still deciding whether she belongs here.

The answer should be obvious.

But I don’t say that. I don’t say anything. I just watch her, waiting for her to make the first move.

She takes a step forward. Then stops.

Her arms tighten around herself, hands clenched in her sleeves like she’s holding herself together. Like she’s still deciding if she belongs here.

I should move.

Should close the distance, make this easier.

But I don’t.

I’ve spent too much time giving her space, waiting for her to be ready, letting her run when things got too real.

Not anymore.

So I stay where I am, my skates planted firm on the ice, letting the silence stretch between us.

She exhales, slow, measured. “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

My jaw ticks.

Then why are you? The words sit on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t say them.

Instead, I just watch her.

Wait.

Let her feel the weight of this.

Let her be the one to fill the silence for once.

Her throat bobs with a swallow. Her fingers flex at her sides.

Still hesitant. Still fighting herself.

Then, finally, she lifts her chin.

“I just…” She swallows again, her voice lower this time. “I needed to see you.”

Something in my chest tightens. Because there it is. Not a confession. Not an apology. But a crack in her armor.

I see the fear in her eyes. Not fear of me. Not fear of Olivia. Or my past. Fear of what this means.

I rake a hand through my hair, exhaling hard. “Kenzie—”

“I don’t know how to do this,” she blurts, cutting me off.

Her voice wavers, but her eyes hold steady on mine. And fuck if that doesn’t hit me somewhere deep.

Because she means it.

She’s not playing games, not trying to push me away. She’s fighting herself.

Fighting this.

And for once? She’s staying.

I drag in a slow breath, my hands flexing at my sides.

“Neither do I.”

Her words hang in the cold air between us.

“I don’t know how to do this.”

For a second, neither of us moves.

The ice beneath my skates feels too solid, too permanent, too much like a damn metaphor.

Because I could move toward her. I could reach for her. I could pull her into me and let her figure this out after she’s already in my arms.

But that’s not what she needs.

Not this time.

She needs to decide.

So I stay still.

Watching. Waiting. Giving her space to figure out what the hell she’s doing here.

She shifts on her feet. Just slightly.

Not exactly stepping closer.

Not exactly stepping away.

Just... lingering.

Her gaze flicks to my mouth.

And that’s when I feel it.

The shift.

The tightening pull between us, the slow, deliberate gravity that’s been there since the night we met.

She wants to close the distance. I can see it. Hell, I can feel it.

The way her breath is just a little shallower now.

The way her pulse flutters at her throat.

The way her fingers flex at her sides, like she’s fighting the urge to reach for me.

I hold my ground.

And then—she steps forward.

Just one step.

Just enough.

The smell of her perfume wraps around me. Warm, familiar, impossible to ignore.

Her gaze flicks up, locking on mine.

And I think she’s going to kiss me.

I can see the decision forming behind those sharp green eyes.

She draws a breath, like she’s gearing up for something.

But before she can make a move—

I step back.

Her brows pull together. “Grant—”

I exhale, forcing my voice to stay even.

“Go home, Kenzie.”

She stills.

The air between us is thick, charged, pulsing with everything we haven’t said yet.

She licks her lips. “What?”

I don’t repeat myself.

I just wait.

Let her process. Let her realize exactly what this means.

Because I’m not playing this game anymore.

If she wants me—she has to choose me. All the way.

And until she does?

I’m not making this easy for her.