Page 16 of Too Sweet

“You just have to get your bearings. Come on. Once we’re on the ice, it’ll be easier.”

Easier, it is not.

This is ridiculous. Nothing about it is fun. I’m taking choppy little baby steps like the ice has personally offended me while desperately clinging to my husband. My ankles hurt, and my thighs are burning. What about this is supposed to be fun, exactly?

“Okay, let’s try something else,” he finally suggests.

I would side-eye him if I wasn’t so afraid of throwing myself off balance. “Unless that something else is sitting down, I’m not particularly interested.”

He’s come to a full stop in the middle of the rink, meaning I’m not moving anymore either. “Steady on your skates,” he instructs.

With a deep breath, I find my balance. That doesn’t stop me from squirming and digging my gloved hands into Decker’s arms.

“Okay, now loosen your death grip and hold my hands.”

My eyes shoot up to his. Like hell am I going to loosen anything right now.

This time he doesn’t bother holding in his laughter. “You can do this, Siren. You’re making it harder on yourself by clinging to me.”

“I thought you liked it when I’m clingy,” I quip.

He raises both eyebrows and offers a hum of contentment. “You’re not wrong. But I want you to prove to yourself that you can do this.”

With a groan, I blow a few stray hairs out of my eyes.

Decker’s gaze narrows, his mind working overtime. Then he straightens a fraction, like something has clicked.

“Actually, I want you to prove tomethat you can do this. Come on, Josephine. Show me what you’ve got.”

A fire lights inside me.

Ugh.

It’s a natural response. Truly second nature. Leave it to Decker to motivate me with a challenge.

“Okay,” I huff out. “I can do this.”

I gingerly work my hold on him lower, pausing when I have his wrists in my hands, then pushing forward until my hands are resting on top of his upturned palms.

He curls his fingers, and I follow suit so we’re locked together, even if he has almost no grip on me.

“Bend your knees, baby. Eyes on me. Here we go.”

Before I can object, he glides backward. How he can skate backward is absolutely beyond me.

I focus on his face, just like he asked, and try to keep my knees loose as I let his momentum carry me forward.

The urge to squeeze my eyes closed is strong. But Decker holds my gaze, his animated expression dishing out assurances and praise that keep me going.

“Hold on,” he murmurs.

That’s all the warning I get before we’re turning—oh gosh, it’s a sharp turn—whipping along one side of the rink.

“Decker!” I scream. Though I feel like I’m falling, our momentum keeps me upright.

His laughter rings out through the night. “I’ve got you,” he assures me for the dozenth time.

He pulls me all the way across the rink, and this time, it’s not quite so scary.