Page 29 of Cold Front
I shifted, handing his camera back. “You’re pretty good at that, too.”
“At what?”
I cleared my throat. “Taking pictures.”
Eli blinked at me, surprised for a second, before his expression softened into something almost shy. “Thanks, Niall,” he said before ducking his head, adjusting the lens of the camera like he needed something to do with his hands.
For the first time in weeks, it felt like some of that weird tension between us had lifted. Not gone completely, but lighter, like we could exist in the same space without every interaction turning into something sharp-edged or awkward.
Before I could think of anything else to say, Asher skated over, breathless from laughing. “Man, they’re a handful, but this turnout is awesome. We definitely have what we need for the assignment.”
Eli grinned. “It was a great opportunity, Niall. I’m glad you suggested we come here.”
Asher nudged my arm. “What do you think, Cap? The kids wearing you out yet?”
I exhaled, glancing around at them—at the way they were talking, laughing, chasing each other across the ice. I wouldn’t admit it out loud, but something about all of it settled deep in my chest.
“Not yet,” I said.
Asher was right—the turnout was solid. Kids of all ages zipped across the ice, some wobbling, some racing each other like they were already in the NHL. Parents leaned over the boards, snapping pictures, and a few of my teammates were spread out across the rink, helping kids keep their balance or leading small drills.
Roman skated up beside me, his usual easygoing smirk in place. “You seeing this? Some of these kids already have better hands than Hunter.”
A kid no older than eight overheard him and gasped. “No way! Hunter’s, like, really good!”
Roman grinned, ruffling the kid’s helmet. “Yeah, yeah. He’s okay, I guess.”
The kid skated off to where Hunter was giving a few pointers, and Roman bumped my shoulder. “You’re kinda killing it with these kids, Cap.”
I wasn’t sure about that, but I nodded anyway, my gaze drifting to Eli. He was a little ways off, crouched down, talking to a couple of kids who looked absolutely fascinated by whatever he was saying. A few seconds later, one of them darted off, and before Eli could fully straighten, another kid barreled into him at full speed.
Eli went down—hard enough to land on his ass, skates sliding out from under him. His hands slapped against the ice, his camera strap twisting around his wrist.
A few people turned to look, but no one moved.
I was already on my way.
He pushed up onto his palms, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe that had just happened. His ears burned red beneath the rink’s overhead lights, and his mouth pressed into a tight line, like he was trying not to react and show that, yeah, he was probably a little embarrassed.
I skated up, extending a gloved hand. “C’mon.”
Eli exhaled through his nose and took it. His fingers curled around mine, solid and warm even through the gloves. I pulled him up in one smooth motion, but he must not have had his balance yet because the next second, he stumbled forward, crashing into me.
Chest to chest.
I caught him instinctively, hands gripping his waist to steady him. His breath ghosted against my neck, warm from exertion, and I felt…everything. The press of his body against mine. The rapid rise and fall of his chest. The way he tensed but didn’t pull away immediately.
Something flickered beneath my ribs. Sharp. Unfamiliar.
I didn’t get a chance to make sense of it before Eli stepped back, clearing his throat. “Uh—thanks.”
I let my hands drop. “Yeah.”
He dusted off his sleeves even though there was nothing there, gaze flicking anywhere but at me.
I didn’t know what the hell just happened, but I felt it.
And I had no idea what to do with that.
