Page 88 of On the Power Play

Delia pushed off again.

“You look great.”

Heat erupted in her gut like she’d just flicked the switch on a gas fireplace. Jack said something about using her edges, but she couldn’t process it. She followed the sound of his voice as her muscles tensed. When she pulled up next to him and he started to move back, she pulled on his arm.

He straightened. “You need a break?”

Delia nodded, reaching for the zipper of her coat. She needed air. Minutes ago, her teeth had been chattering, and now she was going to self-combust.

“Here.” Jack pulled her in and put her hand on his hip, then yanked off his gloves and opened her coat. “It’s more work than you think, right?”

“Mmhm.” Skating. That was definitely what was making her body pound like a bass drum. “Thank you.”

Jack didn’t step back. His fingers still held her zipper as he nodded, his head bowed to look at her. His brow twitched, and all the air in Delia’s lungs whooshed out like she’d opened the neck of a balloon.

“Should we keep going?”

Delia didn’t want to keep going. She wanted to stand right there and feel the warmth radiating from his body. She wanted him to keep watching her and say you look good and we should kiss regularly. “Sure.”

Jack slid back and took her hand again. She reminded herself what Jack had taught her already and pushed off with one foot, then the other. The blades of her skates were still unsteady, but the grass seemed to be passing faster on their right.

She was about to try pushing harder into the ice when she spotted dots of grey. Shadows. There was an uneven patch less than a metre ahead. She tensed, clenching Jack’s hand, and that small movement—the tiniest shift—sent her skate blades slipping. She gasped and tried to grab onto Jack, but her gloves slipped off the fabric of his coat and then she was flat on her back, staring up at wispy clouds and blue sky.

Her chest seized, her lungs burning. Pain radiated up her spine as cold seeped into her skin.

“Shit, Delia. Are you okay?” Jack crouched down on the ice next to her, lifting her head and placing his gloved hand between it and the ice.

Delia stared up at his face, backlit by the fading sun. She’d known a crash would come, and she pushed off anyway. Because Jack asked her to. No, she wasn’t okay. Self-pity and embarrassment washed over her in equal portions as she finally sucked in a breath. Tears stung her eyes, and she tried to blink them away. "Who in their right mind decided they would strap blades to their feet and try to walk on ice?"

She wasn't sure which hurt more, her tailbone, her pride, or her heart, which felt like gelatin in her chest. These feelings she had for Jack weren’t going away, and she wasn’t going to pretend she wanted them to. Even though that was going to play out exactly like the last thirty seconds.

Why was she wearing gloves? She needed to press her finger.

Jack held back a smile. He wanted to laugh, and she couldn't blame him. She wanted to give him permission, but she couldn’t quite force her lips to curve.

He shifted to his knees and pulled her up to sitting. “Did you hit your head?”

“I don’t think so.” Delia wiggled her fingers. Pressed them against the hard ice beneath her. Forced herself to be in her body instead of in those thoughts that made her eyes glassy. “Just bruised, I think.” She rubbed her backside.

Jack's eyes dropped to her hips, and his hand twitched. He cleared his throat. "You were doing great before?—"

"Before I fell flat on my ass?" She stared up at him, her jaw set.

The corner of Jack's mouth curled. "You were doing great before you stopped trusting yourself."

Delia frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Your knees locked up. You tensed."

Delia pointed behind them. "Because I saw those bumps in the ice and?—"

"You would've glided over them just fine."

Delia bit her lower lip, staring at the uneven surface of the pond. Trusting herself hadn’t worked out the way she wanted. Why would she trust herself now?

Jack sat on the ice next to her. "I think I'm going to quit my job."

Delia gaped at him, wondering if she’d heard him right. Where had that come from? "What?"

---