Page 109 of Don't Let Me Fall (Don't Let Me 1)

“Because I had no idea Logan was such a dumbass,” he returns as he finishes lacing my skates and kisses my jean-covered knee, looking up at me. “How could he have not taken you skating?”

I shrug and watch him exchange his Nikes for skates, recognizing I’m definitely sitting next to the most attractive guy I’ve ever laid eyes on. The confidence. The bad boy smirk. It’s official. He’s the whole enchilada, and for some reason I still can’t understand, he’s here. With me. About to teach me how to ice skate. When I realize I’m staring, I clear my throat and smooth out the hem of my shirt, attempting to look busy while scrambling to remember what the hell we’re talking about.

Oh. Right. My asshole ex, who never took me ice skating.

“I dunno?” I answer. “I guess it wasn’t worth the effort of teaching me how.”

“That’s the fun part, though,” he argues. “You looking like a baby deer. All needy and helpless. Me looking like a badass stag as I help you figure it out. It’s frickin’ perfect.”

I laugh as he stands up and helps me to my feet, guiding me to the rink on––he guessed it––baby deer legs.

“This is not easy,” I tell him, my ankles wobbling back and forth as I balance on the blades of my ice skates.

“You’re not even on the ice yet,” he teases. “Have you ever rollerbladed or anything?”

I shake my head but keep my death grip on his hands as I inch closer to the ice rink. “Not really. One bad experience at Amber May’s birthday party in third grade was enough to deter me for the rest of my life.”

He laughs a little harder. “Come on. Let me show you.”

Once we’re on the ice, he makes sure I have a firm grasp on the edge of the rink. Then, he skates backward, his blades cutting through the ice and causing tiny divots in the smooth surface as he shows me how talented he really is. Gliding back to me, he takes my hand.

He’s right. Watching him look so confident while I’m seconds from falling on my butt is sexy as hell. He owns the rink. Like he owns me.

After a little while, I finally start to get the hang of things and can skate around the oval-shaped rink without clinging to Colt like he’s my lifeline. But I’m far from ready to spin around, skate backward, or take the curves at a billion miles per hour, unlike Mr. Hot Shot.

It’s fun, though. Comforting somehow. And when my ankles are spent, we turn in my skates, replacing them with my original flats, and head back to his truck.

“Thank you,” I murmur.

His boyish grin makes my stomach flip-flop as he glances at me from the driver’s seat. “For what?”

“For being perfect.”

He chuckles and squeezes my hand. “Far from perfect, Sunshine. But I’m glad you can see past my bullshit. Come on. Let’s grab some food.”

49

ASHLYN

“So,” I start, twirling a few noodles onto my fork and taking a bite. The lights are low, and the ambiance is quiet as we eat Italian in a little restaurant called Angetti’s.

Colt smirks and watches me chew from across the table, more amused by my lack of question than his own meal.

“So?” he prods when I’m finished swallowing.

“Have you seen Logan much? I know you’re on the team and all, but…” I wave my empty fork between us, unable to find the words to express what I really want to know.

“Are you asking if Logan knows about you and me?”

I nod, my stomach twisting at the thought. “You know, since you live with him and all.”

“Yeah.” Colt smiles, but it feels forced. “He knows.”

“Seriously?” I make myself take another bite and try to look natural, but it still feels weird. Talking about Logan. But it’s hard to leave your ex in the past when you’re dating his friend. When you’re dreading the moment you’ll run into him again. He feels like a giant elephant in the room that is my relationship with Colt. Like…how am I supposed to handle it?

“Yeah,” Colt confirms. “I told him myself.”

My eyes bug out, and I nearly choke on my pasta. I reach for the wine glass and take a sip. “Y-you told him?”

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