Page 17 of Love and Other Penalties
The question hits deeper than I expected. “I don’t know.” I pause beside the frozen pond in the center of the park, thinking back over the training schedule, the homeschool, the intense competitions.
“Somewhere along the way, ice skating stopped being about flying and freedom and became about proving I was worthy of my mother’s legacy.” My voice breaks on the last word, and I swallow in an attempt to cage the emotions threatening to spill over again. “Her love.”
Finn nods, his expression thoughtful. “I know that feeling.”
I swing my attention toward him, a trickle of surprise moving through me. “Do you?”
He’s quiet for so long I wonder if he’s going to answer. Finally, he says, “My dad wanted me to take over his construction business. Said hockey was a waste of time, that I’d never make it pro.” He takes a long sip of coffee. “When I got drafted, I thought I’d finally proven him wrong. But now there’s this rookie who’s faster than me, younger than me, and I keep hearing my dad’s voice saying I’m not good enough.”
I link my arm through his and lean my head against his arm. I don’t want him to feel like this; I want to look at him as earnestly as he looked straight into my eyes and told me I was good enough to win Olympic gold.
Snow clings to his dark hair, and his cheeks are flushed from the cold. “You, Finn Travers, are a starting forward on a professional hockey team. You’re listed first or second at all signing events. People buy jerseys with your name on the back.”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “Stop it.”
“I won’t,” I say. “You’re amazing on the ice, Finn. Really, truly amazing. I’ve never seen anyone skate like you.”
“Liar.”
“Mm, kittens don’t lie. They’re actually incapable of it.”
Finn laughs fully now, and I love the sound of light and air it carries.
“You’re so good, and so amazing, and you’re living your dream.”
“Am I? Or am I just trying to prove something to a man who’s never going to be proud of me?”
The vulnerability in his voice makes my chest ache. I reach up and brush snow from his hair, my fingers lingering against his cheek. “Maybe we’re both trying to prove things to the wrong people,” I say. “Take me home and check on my ankle?”
Finn takes a deep breath and blows it out over the pond. “Yeah, let’s do that.”
Back at my house, I settle on the couch while he kneels in front of me, his hands gentle as he examines the joint.
“It’s much better,” he says, but he doesn’t let go of my foot. Instead, his thumbs massage the arch, working out tension I didn’t know I was carrying.
“Finn.” His name comes out as barely a whisper.
He looks up, and the intensity in his dark eyes steals my breath. “Yeah?”
“I’m scared of failing at the qualifier, but I’m also scared of succeeding for all the wrong reasons. I’m terrified that I’m falling for you when I should be focusing on skating.”
His hands go still on my foot. “Are you? Falling for me?”
Heat floods my cheeks, but I force myself to hold his gaze. “Yes.”
He moves up onto the couch beside me, his hand cupping my face. “Good. Because I’m already completely gone for you, Kitten. I have been since that first morning when you nearly took my head off for being on your ice.”
My pulse prances through my veins like a proud pony who’s just won a major tournament, and I want to tell him so. Thankfully, my mouth doesn’t join my riotous heart and mind, and I have at least one body part I’m still in control of.
He presses his forehead against mine. “I don’t want to derail your dreams, Ivy. I want to support them in any way possible. But I also want you to make sure they’re actuallyyourdreams.”
The simple statement breaks something loose inside me. “I don’t even know anymore.” I lean into him, breathing in his familiar scent, letting his solid presence anchor me. I do know I don’t want to give him up, not for skating. Not even for cupcakes.
“Promise me something,” I whisper.
“Anything.”
“Promise we’ll be honest with each other. About our fears, our goals, everything.”
