Page 39 of Worth the Shot

I tilt my head up, just slightly, to look at him from beneath my winter hat, catching his light brown eyes behind those unfairly dark lashes. I feel my cheeks warm even though it’s freezing.

We stay like that for far longer than necessary and when he realizes it, he releases me, gently, but his eyes stay glued to mine.

“So, that ice you were talking about? ” I say, cutting the tension with a knife.

“Skating. Right. Let’s do that.” He swallows hard, and I can almost hear his heart beating, or maybe it’s mine. Or both.

He reaches for my hand, and I take it. The feeling of it in mine does something crazy and borderline dangerous to my pulse but I remind myself it’s for safety purposes only. That’s all. I follow his lead onto the frozen pond, taking his other hand as he skates backwards and pulls me slowly.

Suddenly I’m hyper aware of gravity.

I’m wobbly, terrified, and seconds away from going into full on panic mode when he says,

“Hey,” it’s almost a whisper, barely there like it’s just for me, “you’re doing great, Laney. Just trust me. I won’t let you fall.” His face softens, as his eyes scan my face and my heart flutters in my chest.

“Okay,” I nod, “I trust you.” And I do. Somewhere along the way in these last few months, I’ve slowly learned to.

He picks up speed, just slightly, as we glide around the ice, my hands still in his as I test one foot out. It goes three inches further than I planned and my stomach drops. He feels me falter and his grip tightens, face reassuring like he believes in me more than I’ve ever believed in myself.

“Don’t walk, just glide,” he says, and so I do just that.

I’m still shaky and convinced that I’m seconds away from falling to my death, but I glide, a little at a time, until I’m actually moving myself. The cold air stings my face as I slide toward Brennan and he drifts backwards, following my motion, matching me perfectly, guiding instead of dragging. My weight settles over one foot and I glide longer than expected. My free foot just…follows. No scrambling or flailing, and suddenly I realize I’m doing it. I let out an uncharacteristic squeal, this time from excitement.

“I knew you could do it,” Brennan says, a grin spreading across his face.

I squeeze his hands before letting go, gliding toward him but on my own this time. He’s watching me, like he’s proud, letting me have my moment. I take baby strides, picking up a little more each time as we skate around the pond. Once I’m confident, or something that feels awfully close to it, he skates with me. He’s beside me now, and I feel his fingers brush mine. I open my hand, letting him take it and smile so hard my cheeks hurt. I’m skating, carefully, around the ice with Brennan’s hand in mine and I’m not sure if it’s the way the sun glitters off the ice, but suddenly the world feels brighter.

I look down, just for a moment, at the ice that probably feels like home for Brennan. I quickly study the pale gray veins, tiny trapped bubbles and a long crack somewhere under the snow that blankets parts of the pond. Then my feet slip out from under me and I scramble, panic hitting me that doesn’t have time to settle. Not a chance, because before it can, Brennan’s arms find me and I fall into him instead. This time, though, our faces land mere inches apart.

I can feel the warmth of his breath on my face, my heart pounding, and I can’t tell if it’s from nearly falling or from his mouth so close to mine. The air between us turns thin, charged enough to send a shiver down my spine. I try to remember why I’ve spent so much time running from this feeling, but in this moment, I come up empty.

Something low inside me settles and stirs all at once, like butterflies finally finding a place to land. The kind of feeling that makes you want to fall and trust someone might actually catch you before you hit bottom. A feeling worth chasing. Or maybe worth standing still long enough to let it finally catch me.

“It’ll get easier,” he says, like he can hear my thoughts.

Still draped over his arms I look up at him, and whisper, “What will?”

I’m not sure what I expect him to say but when he says “Skating” with a confused look on his face, I remember that we are, in fact, on a pond in skates.

“Right. Yeah, I guess I just need to keep practicing.”

He’s still holding me as his hand reaches up, pulling my hat down around my ear where it slipped it. He adjusts it and his thumb slides across my jaw so softly it’s almost not there, but it sends chills down my body and suddenly everything is tingling. “It’s really cold, are you okay? Your cheeks are red.”

I don’t tell him it’s probably not from the cold. Instead I just nod as he releases me, his eyes never leaving mine as he takes both my hands and pulls me across the ice toward land, thankfully, where a fire pit sits under a pile of snow. He pulls the cover off, the mountain of snow landing next to it as I watch him. I sit on the bench as he pulls wood, piece by piece, out of the bag he brought. When he’s finished, he grabs papers from the bag, lights them, and the fire catches the twigs underneath that were already laying in the pit.

I watch them burn, mesmerized by the fire, and I don’t even realize Brennan is kneeling in front of me. And holy hell, there’s something about a six foot three man on his knees that could make a nun drop her pants faster than you can say Jesus Christ.

He grabs one foot, starting to unlace my skates but I interrupt by pulling back, just enough to make a point, and hopefully stop my heart from pounding.

“I can do that,” I insist, but he pulls my foot back to him and continues.

“I know you can,” he says, “but let me anyway.”

His gaze locks on mine as he unlaces both skates, slowly, deliberately, without ever breaking eye contact. I can feel the rise and fall of my chest heavier than usual, and I shudder as he slips off the skates, his hand caressing the back of my leg as it slides down.

“You okay?” His voice is hoarse, laced with the same desire that’s also, coincidentally, completely fucking overwhelming me right now.

“Yeah,” I say, voice elevated and way too chipper, “I’m great.” A lie I tell myself and him as I silently panic. He laughs, shaking his head, as if I somehow still amuse him with my antics.