Page 53 of The Fake Date Agreement

What if I take a risk and fail?

“I can’t do this, Reid.”

“You won’t know what you can do or how far you can go if you don’t give it your all. Come over here and tickle me right here.” He points at a spot under his left rib.

“Why there?”

“My big brother used to pin me, and I nearly wet myself. That’s how ticklish I am.”

But letting go of the wall is hard.

The ice is Reid’s thinking place. All I see is an expensive trip to the dentist to mend a mouthful of broken teeth.

He skates a little closer, holding both arms out. “I’m right here.”

I look at him and I can’t.

“The first time I skated, I fell and knocked out three teeth.”

I blink. “And that’s supposed to convince me to stop hugging this wall?”

He flashes me a grin. “But I got up. My brother… he was the best player in my town. I thought he was the best damn player in the world. He taught me everything I knew. I got better.”

“And your brother?”

His smile fades. “Our parents died when I was seven, and he was seventeen. I was the surprise baby they never expected. Ryder wasn’t just ten years older. He was ten times the player I ever was. But our town was small, with only a big factory that my dad worked in all his life. A career in the NHL was a pipedreamfor someone like us, too big of a leap to risk us losing the only home we had, so he let that dream go to take care of his kid brother instead.”

“So what did he do?” I ask.

“He quit school and got a job at the factory he hated.” He shakes his head as if to dislodge the ghosts of the past clinging to him. His gaze turns dreamy. “Skating is flying. Nothing has ever come close to it. It’s the best feeling in the world.”

He holds out his hand to me, palm side up, tempting me.

My fingers flex against the edge of the rink. “You’ll catch me when I fall?”

“Ifyou fall,” he says softly. “But you’ve got this, Giggles.”

My smile is brief. “That nickname is ridiculous.”

“Not half as ridiculous as mine. Come on over, and I’ll tell you what it is.”

And slowly, I release my death grip on the wall.

His eyes bounce from my face to my feet. “Left leg first. Slowly push out. Don’t try to keep both feet beneath you. The point isn’t to stand still.”

The distance between us closes.

His smile is proud as he slowly skates back. “Right leg. Keep it coming. You’re a natural.”

“You’re just saying that,” I say, flushing with pleasure.

My eyes flick to the ice, and he shakes his head.

“Keep looking at me. Look to where you want to go.”

So I look at him as I skate toward him, arms out for balance. I’m as wobbly as a baby deer walking on ice, but I’m moving. I haven’t knocked out my teeth or humiliated myself like I was so certain I would.

The farther I go, the easier it is to keep going.

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