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It didn’t help that most people found Lily odd before they ever met her.
Lily nods, her eyes closing tightly before she shakes her body out and refocuses on the papers.
“So, we compromised,” she repeats. “I follow my dad’s rules, I get to go back to school, here at Waterfell.” She’s quiet for a long moment. “I just really need to graduate.”
I shouldn’t. I really fucking shouldn’t. But she’s sad and hurting and alone, and I want to fix it, just like I wanted to fix it at seven, ten, fourteen—every day of my goddamn life for most of it.
Would I rather be haunted by the past version of her, unable to stop the inevitable—or have her here again, like some kind of fucked-up do-over?
“All right,” I say, keeping my voice gruff like armor to her softness. “Scoot over. I’ll help.”
• • •
“Fuck.”
The curse is mostly muttered beneath my breath, so that Lily doesn’t hear me as we pack up to leave after our Learn to Skate session. But she does see what I’m seeing; her shoulder’s hiking as I step past her now-frozen form.
Pushing the door out of the rink open, I hold it open and wait for her.
She’s paler than her usual ivory, almost sick looking at the sight of her dad standing with Max Koteskiy, both with beaming smiles.
“There they are,” Koteskiy says, nodding to us.
LaBlanc turns, mostly ignoring his daughter in favor of a look my way. “Hope you’re not too worn out with the children, Kane. Grab some water and we’ll start warming up.”
My body subconsciously steps backward until my bicep presses to Lily’s shoulder.
“We don’t have practice today.”
“I asked Koteskiy if I could run a private with you after you finished up. And he’s graciously agreed.”
My mouth struggles to form a single coherent sentence, let alone a protest against this.
“I can drive you home if you need a ride, Lily.”
She shifts closer to me.
“Lily can stay and wait. I’ll take care of it. Thanks, Max.”
Koteskiy bids us all a polite goodbye, before starting back to where I assume is his office.
“What about Holden?”
The question comes out before I can stop it, vulnerable in a way I don’t ever want to be in front of LaBlanc.
“Just you and me, Kane. Let’s go.”
• • •
Ten minutes into the drills, after I was given zero warm-up time, I’m soaked with sweat and huffing through my cage. And there’s a lump the size of Canada in my throat. It isn’t until I’m actively skating without Holden that I really realize how deeply I’ve relied on his strength and smile, just next to me.
I feel sick but manage to keep from throwing up as I focus on the cold temperature and the girl swinging her legs back and forth in the stands.
I can feel her eyes on me, like a soothing hand on my back.
LaBlanc knows I’ll keep it together in front of his daughter, dangling her like a carrot before me for fucking years—but she’s a double-edged sword. My protector here, because he’ll never do anything to actually hurt me in her presence. But also, my penance, because I won’t do anything to hurt her by hurting him.
A delicate tightrope we both seem to be hanging tightly to.
