Page 47 of For Crosby

He laughed. “Come on. You have to admit it’s fun being out here. The crispness of the air. The breeze in your face. The speed of the ice.”

“If my butt wasn’t pointing north the whole time, I might’ve appreciated it a little bit more.”

He ticked his head toward the center of the ice. “Come on then.”

My eyes dropped down to my skates.

He held out his hand. “I’ve got you.”

I stared at his outstretched hand, noticing the interesting way his tattoos cut off at his wrist. Not being one to show fear, I grabbed hold of his hand. He linked his finger with mine. His grip was strong and warm, something I hadn’t realized I needed in the cold arena.

He eased me off the wall and basically walked on his skates so I could slip my way around the ice. “See you’re doing it.”

“Barely.”

We moved slowly around the perimeter of the ice with him pulling me along as I kept my skates as steady as I could.

As we approached the first turn, he squeezed my hand. I figured he was keeping me from falling, but then he spoke softly. “Thanks.”

I gave him a sidelong glance as I struggled not to fall on my butt. “For what?”

“Showing up.”

I couldn’t be sure if I wanted to smile at the vulnerability he was displaying or cry for the boy inside him who’d lost everything. “I have a habit of showing up, don’t I?”

He snickered. “I guess you do.”

“Well, if you stopped giving me reasons to, I wouldn’t have to.” I bumped him with my hip which probably wasn’t the best idea since I could barely stay upright on my own.

“Now where would the fun in that be?”

I smiled as I leaned into his arm for support as we slowly made it through the first full corner. “So, do you miss Texas?”

“Yup.”

“That was fast. You hate it that much here?”

“Yup.”

“Oh, thanks,” I said, feigning insult.

“No, I just meant—”

I laughed. “I know what you meant. I was teasing you.”

Once we’d circled the ice one time, I wondered if he’d stop at the open doorway. He didn’t. We proceeded around again. This time I felt more comfortable, though a triple axel would not be in my future. “Why’d you choose hockey? You suck at football or something?”

He choked on a laugh. “Did you seriously just say that?”

“I did.”

A flicker of amusement lit his eyes. “No, I didn’t suck at football. I chose hockey for the fights.”

I laughed. “Does every hockey player say that?”

“Probably.” Unexpectedly, he stopped and moved in front of me, grabbing my other hand so he held both. I couldn’t peel my eyes away from his, wondering what he had planned. “Let’s get you moving a little faster.”

“That sounds like a terrible idea.”

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