He guided me onto the bench, kneeling in front of me as he unlaced my sneakers.
And then he pulled out a box that he must have stashed in his bag, and my heart stopped.
They were beautiful, brand new, and top of the line. I recognized the brand from my figure skating days. These were way too nice.
“Owen.” My voice caught. “When did you…”
“When you told me you’d stopped skating.” He rubbed the back of his neck. I probably shouldn’t have, but?—“
“No.” I reached down, pulling one of the white skates out and holding it in my hands. I’d have to break them in, but God, I loved them already. And it would be a shame if these skates didn’t get worn. They deserved to be on the ice. “I love them.” I shut my eyes, tears welling. But I wouldn’t cry. Not over ice skates, and not over him buying me them.
Owen’s warm hand cupped my chin, and I opened my eyes to find his. “Why’d you stop, Ellie baby?” He asked, his voice soothing. Like he was trying not to spook a scared animal.
“You know why,” I whispered.
He shook his head. “Not because of me.” There was hurt on his face.
What could I say? There was so much we hadn’t talked about. But once we got it all out in the open… would he even want me around anymore?
He took the skate out of my hand, guiding my foot into it. How many times had he laced up my skates when we were younger? Owen knew just the way I liked it. And clearly, he hadn’t forgotten, either. Maybe it was like muscle memory. As easy as riding a bike.
“We can’t keep avoiding talking about it, El,” he said. And god, how tender he was being was making it worse. Because all I wanted to do was to bury my face against his chest. To inhale his scent that felt like home.
I closed my eyes as he placed a soft kiss to my knee after finishing lacing up my second skate. “I know.”
Owen sat next to me, pulling on his skates as we sat in silence. I couldn’t spill everything now. It was too raw. If I did, I’d be revealing everything to him. And I wasn’t ready for that.
So when he stood up, holding out his hand for mine, I took it.
“I’ve got you,” he told me again as I hesitated at the wall.
I bit my lip. “How do you get back on the ice after an injury? Knowing it could happen again? Knowing that it was one of the most terrifying things that ever happened to you?”
He shrugged. “Same way you do everything, I guess. Put one foot in front of the other. Remind yourself that the world isn’t over. Pick yourself up and dust yourself off. Try again.”
Was it really that easy? To just… start over? Maybe it was. I thought about moving here. How much courage it had taken to do that. His eyes held mine, warm and brown and full of understanding.
I’d gone to therapy after my accident, back when my anxiety felt crippling. It had helped some—enough to go back to my life—but I’d never skated again.
Owen stepped onto the ice, skating backwards as I stood, a death grip against the wall.
“One step at a time, Daisy. You can do this.” He held out a hand, and I swallowed roughly. “Five minutes. Just give me five minutes.”
I took a step, and the blade underneath me made contact with the ice. Everything else faded away as I pushed off, skating towards Owen. There was only him and me, and suddenly, the years didn’t matter. I just focused on him.
Maybe it would have been easier to turn around and fleeif I was as uncoordinated as a baby deer on the ice, but it felt like I’d built it up in my head to be this big thing and it just… wasn’t. I was fine. The world wasn’t ending. I was still standing on my own two feet. I could still breathe.
“That’s it,” he murmured as I took his hand. “That’s my girl. I knew you could do it.”
My cheeks warmed, but he pulled me in close enough that I could see every color swirling in his eyes and feel the press of his body against mine. And god, I missed him. In a way Ishouldn’t. His hands. His mouth.
And I was all too aware of how close together we were on the ice. If anyone came in, they’d get the wrong idea. I pulled away—not letting go of his hand—and tested out my skates. It was a long way to go to where I’d been, at the top of my game and hoping to compete nationally, but at least I was here. On the ice. Skating. Mostly.
In all this time, we’d mainly been staring at each other.
Then Owen grinned, a mischievous look on his face that I remembered from when we were kids.
“Race ya! Fastest one wins!” He dropped my hand, speeding off down the ice towards the other end.