Page 9 of Stick Handled

Avery’s quiet for a moment, biting her lip like she’s debating whether to speak. Finally, she clears her throat, though she still can’t meet my gaze. “I need your help.”

This is new.

“My help?” I raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “With what, exactly?”

She exhales sharply, frustration mixed with embarrassment.

“With… skating,” she mutters, barely audible.

I blink, caught off-guard for a second.

“I didn’t quite catch that,” I lie.

Speak up, baby.

“Skating,” she says a little louder this time.

“Skating?” I repeat, just to make sure I heard her right. She nods, staring down at her shoes, clearly regretting every second of this. I know she’s no beginner. Avery used to figure skate, and she was damn good at it, too. It’s her former partner who fucked up and almost killed her. The blade of the bastard’s skate sliced the femoral artery on Avery’s inner thigh.

I can still see it clearly—the panic that day. Rowan’s face was pale and frantic as he carried her to his car, too desperate to wait for an ambulance. Avery’s blood painted the ice red that day. She almost bled out. People had to donate blood on the spot because she’d lost so much by the time they got to the hospital.

It was a mess.

And now she’s here, askingmeto help her get back on the ice? After all that?

I can’t help but feel a surge of respect for her. As shy as Avery is most days, she’s just as determined, and that’s something I’ve always admired. After going through something like that, most people would never even look at an ice rink again. Yet here she is, standing before me, braving it, her voice barely above a whisper but determined as hell.

Is Rowan making her do this? That doesn’t make sense. He’d never let her back on the ice.Hewas the one who swore she’d never skate again. So, what the hell is going on?

“You know what, forget it. It was a stupid idea—” Before I can respond, she starts backing away.

“Whoa, hey,” I cut in, stepping forward and blocking her retreat. “I didn’t say no.” Now, I’m more than curious. Why the hell didn’t she ask Rowan? And more importantly, why come to me?

Her eyes flick up to mine, and for the first time, I see that little flicker of determination. It’s faint, buried beneath the nerves, but it’s there. She wants this—whatever it is.

“Let me get this straight,” I say, leaning in a little, lowering my voice. “You want me to teach you how to skate again?”

Avery swallows hard, then nods, almost defiantly. “Yes.”

Well, damn.That took guts. I give her a slow, teasing grin.

“Look, I know you have a thousand more pleasant things to do than baby me on the rink,” she rambles apologetically.Oh, I don’t need a rink to baby you.“You don’t have to say yes. I can ask someone else,” she adds, but there’s hope in her eyes. Hope that she won’t have to ask anyone else. And that’s enough for my heartrate to pick up the pace.

Tell her goodnight and close the door, Damien.

I try to listen to the voice telling me to stay away from Rowan’s sister, but the only thing I keep hearing is her voice, saying, “I need your help.”

She wants me to help her with something this personal.

There’s no way I’m letting this opportunity slip by.

“And what will I get in return?” I arch a brow, playing with her.

Avery opens her sweet mouth, but no sound comes out.

“Aren’t you, like, a billionaire?” she finally asks, dumbfounded. I almost snort.

“Money isn’t the only currency in the world.” I tilt my head to the side.

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