Page 31 of Inferno

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

When he smirks, I know he can see the blush creeping up my neck.

“Well, you already know I survived a fire when I was little.”

“I do.”

“I’m an only child, and my parents were very overprotective after that.”

“I can imagine.”

“What about you?”

He arches a brow. “What about me?”

“I don’t know. I want to know everything,” I say, mimicking his earlier sentiment.

“Only child. Grew up without my dad, but you know that.” He averts his gaze, and guilt settles like a lead weight in my stomach.

“And your mom?” I prod, needing the answer as much as I dread it.

“She died a few years after my dad. The grief was just too much.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Inferno gives himself a shake and smiles. “Hey, it’s in the past. And not your fault.”

“Yeah, but if he hadn’t rushed in to save me…”

He stares at me, giving me time to finish my thought, but I can’t. What more is there to say?

“It’s my understanding that he died after he got another kid out so again, not your fault.”

“Still…”

Inferno grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet. “Let’s go skate.”

We make our way to the rink and at first, we both suck. We fall so much that our bruises are going to have bruises, but eventually, we get the hang of it.

Inferno easily shifts the conversation to other less depressing topics, and I let him. This is a date, not a grief group. We laugh, we skate, and I have the most fun I’ve ever had in my life.

“Attention skaters,” a booming voice says over the loudspeaker. “The rink will be closing in thirty minutes. Please return your skates to the counter and gather your belongings. Again, the rink will?—”

“This went by way too fast,” Inferno says.

“It really did.”

It takes us several minutes to get to the bench where we left our shoes because there seems to be a mass exodus. These people did hear that they have thirty minutes, right? No need for a stampede.

As I’m pulling my skates off my feet, I glance at Inferno out of the corner of my eye. I’m not ready for the night to end, and maybe it doesn’t have to.

“Do you wanna grab something to eat before going home?” I ask.

“I have a better idea,” he replies with a wicked grin. “Why don’t we get a pizza and take it back to your place?”

“Pizza and a movie?”

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