Page 42 of Pucking Curves

My heart flutters. This man… God, I don’t think there’s anyone else like him. There certainly isn’t another one who looks at me like he does, or who treats me like he does. What I want and need matters to him. I think maybe it always mattered.

I peek at him out of the corner of my eye as he leads me toward the opening that lets out onto the ice. My heart thumps unevenly against my ribcage. I shiver, clinging to his hand like he’s a lifeline.

“Breathe, Wren,” he murmurs. “Even if the ice were to crack beneath us, we wouldn’t fall through, okay? There’s a layer of insulation and heated concrete below us. No water.”

I’m not sure if it’s his reassurance that allows me to take that first step out onto the ice, if it’s his voice in my ear, or if it’s simply him. But I take it. My feet slip a little, but his don’t. He keeps me steady, holding onto me with a quiet confidence that bolsters mine.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, pride in his eyes as he meets my gaze. “Just stand here for a minute, and then we’ll walk out.”

I nod, breathing in the cold air of the rink. Breathinghimin. His scent is soothing. The ice is familiar. Maybe I can do this.

“I’m ready.”

“You sure? We don’t have to rush.”

“I’m sure.” I give him a tiny smile. Honestly, it’s not as bad as I thought it would be. I’ve been around rinks and ice most of my life. It’s been a long time since I was brave enough to step out onto it myself, but the ice feels almost like home in a weird way.

Archer holds onto me, leading me step by step out to the center of the rink. His voice is a deep rumble in my ear, murmuring praise with every foot forward.

By the time we reach the table, I feel a little like I slayed a dragon.

He brushes my hair away from my face, pressing his lips to my cheek, before he helps me into my seat. I glance down at the table, my eyes catching on the single iris laid out beside my plate.

“How’d you know they’re my favorite?” I ask when he settles across from me, bringing the flower to my nose to inhale its soft scent.

“I know everything about you.”

“How?” I press, genuinely curious if he’ll spill his secrets for me this time.

He holds my gaze, hesitating. And then he shrugs. “Maybe I pay attention.” His throat works. “Maybe I’ve paid more attention than I should have.”

“How much more attention?” I ask.

“A lot.”

“Did you follow me?”

He swallows hard, hesitating a beat. “Do you want the truth or the comforting lie, Wren?” he finally asks. “Because once it’s out there, it changes things.”

“Or maybe it doesn’t,” I whisper.

Surprise flares in his eyes, like he never considered the possibility that I wouldn’t run screaming into the night.

“You know where I live, where I work. You know things about me that no one else does.” I shrug, twirling the flower between my fingers. “I know Micah didn’t tell you. I know you didn’t learn my favorite flower just by seeing me the few times I came around the arena. You didn’t just pick up how I like my eggs or my coffee or my favorite café from listening.”

“Shit,” he mutters.

“Did you watch me? Follow me?” I cock my head to the side, studying him. “For how long, Archer?”

“Since two weeks after Micah and Elodie’s wedding.”

“The night I went to the bar with you guys,” I murmur.

He jerks his head in a nod. “I wanted to make sure you got home okay. And then…” He pauses, clearly trying to figure out how to say what he wants before he mutters another soft curse. “I didn’t want to fucking leave, so I didn’t. I thought about knocking on the door. Fuck, I must have thought about it for an hour. But I didn’t. I knew Micah wouldn’t approve. Wasn’t sure you would, either. So I just fucking…sat there, unable to come inside, but incapable of leaving.”

He meets my gaze, his cerulean eyes glittering with heat, with possession. “I knew you were mine, Wren. Mine to protect. Mine to take care of. I just didn’t know what the fuck I was supposed to do about it. So when I couldn’t fucking stand not seeing you, I watched you. I checked up on you. And yeah, I followed you. Figured it was the closest I’d ever get to heaven.”

This is the part where I should run. It’s the part where I should be horrified or terrified or whatever the feeling is when you know someone has been following you. But…I don’t feel any of those things. Because I know him just as well as he knows me. There’s no one in the world I’m safer with than I am with him.

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