Page 49 of Finding Her
“Okay, first step complete,” I teased. “You’re upright.”
“Barely.” She swayed a little, looking at her feet like she didn’t trust them. “If I fall on my face, you’re carrying me out of here.”
“You’re not gonna fall.”
Her eyes snapped to mine, skeptical. “Oh, really?”
“Well…” I grabbed a helmet from the bin behind the counter and walked back over, sticking it on her head. Her brown hair puffed out under the edges in messy waves, and I couldn’t help laughing.
She scowled, shoving it into place. “What? You think I’m gonna fall that much?”
I rapped my knuckles lightly on the top of the helmet. “Just taking precautions. Safety first.”
“Ugh,” she groaned, but her lips twitched like she was trying not to smile.
“Ready?” I asked, holding out a hand.
She nodded, her grin finally breaking through, so bright it could’ve melted the ice. That was just Poppy—impossible to look at without feeling the warmth. She stepped cautiously toward the rink, holding her arms out like wings, her breath fogging in the chilly air.
“What if I fall?” she asked, glancing nervously at the ice.
“You’re going to fall,” I said. “That’s the point. It’s how you learn.”
“Great pep talk.” She shot me a look but slid one foot onto the ice anyway. It wobbled immediately, and her arms flailed as if she were trying to stay airborne.
I reached out instinctively, grabbing her elbows to steady her. “Relax,” I said softly. “You’re okay.”
Her nails dug into my forearms, and I winced, biting back a laugh. If she pulled any harder, she’d take my skin with her. “Sorry,” she muttered, loosening her grip.
“Hold on as long as you need,” I said, even though I could already tell my arms would be covered in tiny half-moon indentations by the end of this.
When she finally let go, I skated back a few feet, giving her some space. “Okay, bend your knees a little. Keep your weight centered.”
She bent her knees way too much, like she was about to squat.
“Not like that,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. “You’re not sitting in a chair.”
“Oh.” She straightened up, laughing under her breath. “Okay, okay. Got it.”
But the second she shuffled forward, her feet slid out from under her. She barely got out a squeak before I lunged forward, catching her before she hit the ice.
“You’re a disaster,” I muttered, trying not to smile as I set her upright again.
“Thanks, Coach,” she said brightly, looking up at me like she hadn’t just almost wiped out. Her cheeks were flushed, whether from embarrassment or effort, I wasn’t sure, but it was kind of adorable.
“Try again,” I said, stepping back. This time, she grabbed my arm for support, clinging to it like it was a lifeline.
“You’re fine on your own, Poppy, I promise. Stop using me as a crutch and actually try skating.”
“But you are my lifeline,” she said dramatically, batting her lashes. “That’s what love is.”
I snorted, but the word love stuck in my chest, warm and solid, like it had settled there to stay. She let go slowly, testing her balance, and I moved backward, staying close enough to catch her.
Her first push forward was clumsy, but determined. She wobbled, her arms flailing again, but she stayed upright.
“You’re doing fine,” I said.
Her head shot up, eyes wide. “Wait—was that a compliment? From you?”
