Page 110 of The Equation of Us

“You once told me your door was always open,” I continue. “I need to know if that’s still true.”

Dean moves then, approaching the barrier that separates us. “You walked away, Nora. You ended things when it got difficult.”

“I know.” The guilt is still fresh, still raw. “I was scared. Everything was falling apart—my career, my friendship with Daphne, my nomination. I thought I had to choose.”

“And you chose your career.”

Ouch.

That hurts.

But he’s not wrong.

“I thought I didn’t have a choice.” I take a deep breath. “That whole baby scare gave me whiplash too,” I admit. “Part of me worried you’d end up choosing to get back with her. But Daphne came to see me yesterday. And she retracted her complaint.”

Surprise flickers across his face. “She did?”

I nod. “The nomination is still active. My position with Wexler is safe. And Daphne… she doesn’t hate me. At least not completely.”

“I’m glad,” he says, and I know he means it. “You deserve that recognition.”

“But none of it matters,” I say, moving closer to the barrier until only a few feet separate us. “None of it means anything without you.”

His expression softens slightly, but he makes no move to close the distance between us. “What exactly are you asking for, Nora?”

“A second chance.” My voice wavers slightly. “I know I don’t deserve one. I know I hurt you. But I’m asking anyway.”

Dean is quiet for a long moment, his eyes never leaving mine. I feel exposed under his gaze, every defense stripped away.

“Why here?” he asks finally. “Why the rink?”

Of all the questions I expected, this wasn’t one of them. I glance around at the empty arena.

“Because this is your space,” I say simply. “This is where you feel most yourself. Happy. Safe. Where you’re not trying to control everything or be perfect for everyone else.” I gesture tothe ice. “I wanted to meet you on your territory. To show you I see all of you, not just the parts you let people see.”

Something shifts in his eyes—surprise, vulnerability, something I can’t quite name.

“Logan helped you come up with this plan?”

“Logan gave me access,” I clarify. “The plan was all mine. Though he did suggest I bring skating gear so we could talk on the ice.”

A ghost of a smile touches Dean’s lips. “You can skate?”

“Badly,” I admit. “Very badly. But I was willing to risk humiliation if that’s what it took.”

The smile grows slightly. “You hate not being good at things.”

“I do.” I take a deep breath. “But I’d rather be terrible at skating with you than excellent at anything else without you.”

Dean moves then, opening the gate in the barrier between us. He steps through, closing the distance until we’re standing just a foot apart.

“You hurt me,” he says quietly.

A pang of guilt hits my chest.

“I know.” I resist the urge to reach for him, knowing I haven’t earned that right yet. “I’m so sorry.”

“If we do this—if we try again—I need to know you won’t run at the first sign of trouble. That you won’t decide I’m expendable when things get complicated.”

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