Page 74 of Cold Front
We skated side by side for what seemed like hours. Until the world outside the rink didn’t exist. Just us, the steady glide of our skates, the sharp chill of the air, and the easy rhythm we’d fallen into—like we’d been doing this forever.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had this much fun with another person. Maybe I never had. Not like this.
Because it couldn’t have been with anyone else. Not like it was with Eli.
He made everything feel easy, like I didn’t have to try so hard to be anything other than exactly who I was. Like maybethis—the laughter, the teasing, the way he looked at me like I was someone worth holding onto—was something I could have.
Something Iwanted.
Eventually, we had to call it a night. We skated over to the benches, sitting side by side as we unlaced our skates. Eli groaned dramatically as he yanked his skates off, flexing his feet. “I swear, my toes forgot how to function.”
I huffed a laugh. “Yeah, that happens.”
He bumped his shoulder against mine. “Worth it, though.”
I glanced at him, at the easy smile on his lips, and felt that familiar pull. Like he was gravity, and I couldn’t help but fall toward him.
We switched to our regular shoes, grabbed our things, and pushed through the doors, stepping out into the cold. The rink’s exterior lights cast long shadows across the pavement, the night quiet except for the distant hum of traffic.
That’s when I saw a figure dressed in dark clothes walking fast along the side of the building. My body tensed, instincts kicking in before I even registered why. The rink was supposed to be empty now.
Eli followed my gaze. “Someone else here?”
I nodded, my gaze still fixed on the person. The way he carried himself—the squared shoulders, the solid build, the purposeful stride—it was unmistakable. I’d spent too many hours on the ice with him not to recognize it.
Hunter.
Where was he going? The only thing along that side of the building was another entrance to the arena.
The light above the door flickered, and for a split second, it caught his face. That confirmed it.
I reacted before I could think. “Hunter?”
He froze mid-step.
Slowly, he turned toward us, yanking an earbud out.
Eli shifted beside me.
A beat of silence stretched between us before Hunter shoved his hands into his pockets. “Forgot something in the locker room,” he said, too quickly, like he’d rehearsed it.
Bullshit.
Eli didn’t seem to catch the lie, but I did. I knew that look—the quick deflection, the way he wouldn’t quite meet my eyes. I’d done the same thing a hundred times when I didn’t want anyone to know what was really going on with me.
Hunter was hiding something.
But I didn’t call him on it.
Because while part of me was trying to piece together why he was here so late, another part—the one still caught up in Eli, in the way I’d let my guard down tonight—was suddenly panicking.
Hunter had seen us.
Maybe he didn’t care, but the fact someone else had been here at all made my pulse spike.
I wasn’t ready.
And even though we hadn’t done anything, hadn’t kissed or touched or done anything that would’ve given us away out here, we had done a hell of a lot of kissing and touching while we skated. My chest tightened with something dangerously close to panic.
