Page 16 of Silent Nights and Vampire Lights

I gave him a meaningful look until realization dawned. He dug into his back pocket for his wallet. “I could buy it for you.”

My face burned, and I whirled and stalked away. I was tired of being a charity case. It was bad enough that I needed his help to save me from the people chasing me. I didn’t want to rely on him for everything, even though it seemed like I was doing that right now.

He hurried to catch up and stopped me. “Are you angry with me?”

I faced him. “I intend to pay you back for your expenses. I’m not a charity case.”

He stared at me in confusion. “I never thought you were. We agreed you would drive me home, and I would take care of all expenses.”

“You would protect me and find me a new identity. But I don’t want to take advantage.”

“A poncho is not taking advantage,” he replied, clearly not understanding what I was saying.

I huffed in annoyance. “I don’t need it.”

“A gift is not about needing. Didn’t you tell me that earlier tonight?”

I wrinkled my nose. “You pick a terrible time to start listening to me. Besides, we’re just a business relationship.” Even if I wanted more. A flash of movement caught my eye. “Come on! There’s the ice skating! I want to try it!”

He sighed, and I dragged him along the path, weaving around the families and couples until we stood on the edge of the makeshift rink. The wood railing dug into my palms as I watched the people gliding around the space, some with ease while others falling. Everyone was laughing. This was what I wanted. Fun and joy, something that had been sorely missing in my life for the past few years. And with danger dogging my every step, I wanted to forget about it for a while. Even if I knew it was dumb to pretend it wasn’t real.

I grabbed Nick’s hand and tugged him to the line for the skates. “Let’s rent some skates.”

I was surprised that he was such a good sport, and within a few minutes, we were lacing up our rented skates and testing the ice. As I was tentatively feeling my way along the edge, a man glided past way with all the grace of Nathan Chen. Of course, it was Nick, because he just had to be good at this, too.

“Must be nice to have decades to perfect ice skating.”

He smirked as he skated backwards by me. “I haven’t been on skates since I was a child. Seventy years or so?”

“Asshole,” I muttered, and he laughed out loud. If I was having a better time, I would relish the sound, but I was too annoyed by his ease and skill to relax.

He swept by me again, an arm catching me around the waist and plucking me from the wall, pulling me along with him. I shrieked and grabbed onto to him, but he held me securely.

“Relax, Holly. I won’t let you fall.”

Slowly, as we circled the rink, I eased my death grip on his arm and relaxed into the motion, skating along with the flow of the crowd and with Nick. It felt almost like dancing, his arm wrapped around my waist, holding me firmly, confidently, ensuring nothing would ever happen to me. Everything faded to the background, until we existed in our own bubble, only the music penetrating our world, as we moved silently, in sync.

But all good things end, and Nick escorted me over to the bench where we reluctantly handed over our skates and stumbled away, adjusting to the much slower pace of walking versus the freedom of gliding. Time was ticking, and I knew we needed to move on.

Then he stopped, his head turning as if hearing something. My heart stuttered, and fear grabbed me. I frantically looked around. “Do you see something? Are they here?”

He held up a hand. “Shhh. Do you hear that song?”

I strained my ears but only heard the chatter of people, the crying of overtired children, and call of vendors hawking their wares. He abruptly shifted direction and dragged me behind him. My legs could barely keep up with his longer strides, but I tried, almost running to maintain his pace.

Finally, he stopped in front of an older man and a small booth filled with handmade, wood boxes. In one, a ballerina danced on a mirror to the sound of a song.

“Is that the song from the Wizard of Oz?”

He nodded, his hand hovering just out of reach from the box. “‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’. My sister loved that song and the movie. I remember her sneaking out to see the movie, even though our father forbade her from going. She adored that song.”

I linked my arm in his, still marveling over the fact that he was old enough to remember when that movie was a new release. “You have to get this for her. She’ll love it.”

His gaze was firmly fixed on it, but I sensed he wasn’t really seeing it. “She’s probably moved on now. It’s been years.”

“And maybe she hasn’t. She would love that you remembered something like that.”

He nodded, still staring at the box. I caught the older man’s eye and gestured at the box. The man smiled and wrapped it in tissue and boxed it up. Nick woke out of his memories, paid the man, and we walked away. As we strolled through the crowd, Nick’s hand found mine. And I felt like a teenager with her first crush, already knowing this had gone way beyond infatuation.

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