Page 48 of Teach Me to Fly

I brace myself as he reaches for my shoulders and pulls me into a hug before I can step back. My whole body goes rigid. My skin crawling with the contact, the sensation overwhelming and suffocating.

I hate how common touch is—how no one even thinks twice about it. A pat on the back, a hand on your arm, a friendly hug. It feels like a violation now. But to the world, it’s just a normal gesture.

I glance at Reign, noticing how he’s watching the interaction closely, brow furrowed, posture subtly shifting. When his eyes find mine and he sees the discomfort there, he clears his throat loudly.

Phil steps back immediately, startled. “Sorry,” he mumbles, tossing a glance between us before retreating behind the counter and slipping his apron back on. But his gaze keeps drifting to me like he still doesn’t believe I’m real.

“What can I get you, sir?” he asks Reign, but Reign looks at me.

“Ladies first,” he says, gesturing with his hand.

I step forward. “Uh, I’ll have the double?—”

“Double chocolate on a chocolate waffle cone?” Phil finishes for me, his smile stretching wider.

I nod, offering a small smile as Reign watches the exchange, his jaw ticking as his eyes jump between us.

“I’ll get the cookies and cream,” Reign says after a beat. “In a cup.”

Phil rings us up, and Reign pays for us both. Then we step aside and watch as Phil scoops our orders, his movements still practiced and fast. I want to ask him how his son is doing, but I can't bring myself to start up a conversation with him today. I wasn't prepared to come to this place, of all places.

He hands Reign his cup first, then turns to me, cone in hand. “I haven’t seen you since—” He stops short, the sentence dying on his lips.

Since my father’s funeral.

Phil clears his throat. “Well, it’s been a while,” he says instead. “Are you back in Marlow now?”

I nod. “I just moved back from New York.”

A broad grin spreads across his face. “Good. It’s nice to see a familiar face again. I hope you’ll stop by more often.”

I give a polite smile, the kind that doesn’t reach my eyes, and glance at Reign again. He catches my silent plea right away and moves to the door, opening it for me.

“Let’s go,” he says.

I turn back to Phil, offering a quick wave before stepping outside, the cool air hitting my hot skin. The shop door closes behind us, and I exhale slowly, the tightness in my chest loosening just a little.

“You’ve been here before?” Reign asks after a moment.

I lick my cone, the chocolate familiar and rich, before I nod. “My dad used to bring me almost every week.”

Reign doesn’t respond and when I look up, I realize he’s stopped walking.

I turn back to face him. “What's wrong?”

He’s staring at me, his expression unreadable. “That place was special to you and your dad?”

I shrug, suddenly self-conscious. “Yeah. I guess it was.”

He looks at me a moment longer, then nods once, a subtle dip of his chin, as he starts walking again, leaving me to catch up.

I look over at him as we walk. “Where are we going now?”

“To watch the swans.”

I blink. “The swans?”

He glances sideways. “Swans move the way you need to imitate for the ballet—controlled, but not stiff. I figured watching them might help you get it right.”

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