Page 49 of Back To You

But there’s no such thing as closure when it comes to Luke.

It’s time to tell him—tell himeverything.

I look over at Luke at the front desk of the local ice rink. He’s making the middle-age receptionist blush as he gives her his golden smile and devastating ocean eyes all so she lets him reserve extra rink time for his rec hockey team’s September practices that start Monday.

The whole way here, I wanted to just rip off the Band-Aid. I wanted to tell him that we needed to talk—that I hate him for making me love him; that I love him enough to dig up the memories I bury the deepest because I’m slowly realizing that he’s my biggest weakness of all.

But I couldn’t.

My mind was too busy spinning from all the times he looked over at me from the driver’s seat and his face lit up at the mere fact that I agreed to run these stupid errands with him.

And that I would do it over and over again if it made him smile like that.

My mouth felt dry when I let him reach over his center console to put his hand on my thigh, his thumb rubbing lazy circles against my skin as he drove, my hand itching to take his in mine, neither of us saying anything about it.

I turn back to the rink, slipping my hands into my pockets as I lean back and watch the kids and parents skate across the ice, opting for acoolersummer activity.

I see a little blonde boy with his dad, struggling to keep his balance for a moment as he holds his dad’s hand. After a few skates together, the boy lets go of his dad, picking up speed as he glides along the ice, a huge smile on both their faces.

The little boy reminds me of the first time I saw Luke on the ice. We were just kids, and it was during the simple times where you just invited your whole class to your birthday party. Mr. and Mrs. Owens rented the whole rink in our hometown for twenty first-graders to skate around for Luke’s seventh birthday, and Luke had a permanent smile on his face, caring more about going around the rink as fast as he could than any of the guests, presents, or cupcakes.

“All set,” I hear, and I didn’t even realize he walked over to where I was waiting for him.

“Oh, great.” I shake my head, bringing myself back to the moment. “Pet store time?”

He looks out to the rink and then back to me with a sparkle of mischief in his eyes. “What size shoe are you again?”

***

“I haven’t seen you on the ice in years,” I tell Luke as we return our rental skates.

He looks out to the rink and then back to me with a sparkle of mischief in his eyes.

We spent an hour or so on the ice, and it was more fun than I’d ever admit to him.

Luke is a natural on the ice, gliding in his skates with the same ease of walking. Me, on the other hand, has the same amount of gracefulness as a baby giraffe trying to walk on its new legs.

He was skating circles around me.Literally.

It took me going around the rink twice before I let go of the siding, just to hold on to him so I wouldn't fall, and I’m positive his arm will be bruised tomorrow.

I don’t feel bad about it though.

He left his own marks on me last night.

“You never accept my invites to come watch my rec games.”

I scoff. “Liar. Mia, Drew, Ed, Emmett and I have been at the last three. You just haven’t gone to one all summer.”

We wave to the receptionist as we walk outside, the sun is high with no clouds to block it, the blue sky being just a shade lighter than Luke’s eyes.

“Well, excuse me for having a bar to run,” he answers, pulling his car keys from his pocket.

I laugh, but the sound comes out hollow. My voice takes on a more serious tone. “You never told me what you decided to do about your dad’s firm.”

Luke’s smile fades. He runs a hand through his hair, as we walk to his car. “Well, the spot is ready and waiting for me. It has been since I graduated.”

“Duh,” I reply.

---