Page 72 of A World Without You
“Don’t you dare leave me here alone, clinging to this wall like a life raft!” I scold, and he shakes his head.
“I’ll be right back. Relax.” He’s restraining his smile and I’m certain I’ll hold it against him forever.
“Don’t leave soldiers behind, Bennett!” I yell.
He rolls his eyes and teases me, saying, “This is your battle, Liv!”
And he’s gone. I stand straighter, white-knuckling the wall, half-praying he’ll return, half-cursing his name. I’m fully aware of how stupid I look, but I play it off, smiling and waving at the people passing me by and muttering how cute the children are bundled like Eskimos, gliding over the ice while holding onto their parents’ hands.
“Having trouble?” I register the question before I register the voice. At first, I think it’s Bennett returning to laugh at me, but the tone isn’t mocking. Instead, it’s almost sad, as if the man saying it is disappointed to realize I’m not the same person I was when he was with me.
“I...” I search for words as my gaze meets Colin’s steely blue eyes. “I used to be better?” It comes out like a pitiful question.
“Come here,” he says, holding out his gloved hand. “Trust me.” I don’t hesitate to take it. It doesn’t matter if we’re two layers of wool apart, there’s a spark of memories in his touch.
My heartbeat thrums louder in my chest as he pulls me closer to him. The scent of his cologne makes me dizzy with memories. The way he glides easily on the ice makes me want to hold him close. But his expression tells me he’s hesitating with every moment he spends with me.
“March,” he states.
“What?” My forehead crumples in confusion as I try to recall the significance of that month. It wasn’t the month we met. It wasn’t the month he asked me out or the month we moved in together.
“March,” he repeats, then picks up his feet and starts marching on the ice like a soldier.
“Oh! Duh,” I let out a self-deprecating laugh, trying to ignore the fact that my heart keeps trying to place so much significance on every word he says. I do as he says, finding that my skates are steadier, and then slowly but surely, after several paces down the rink, I begin to glide, still gripping his hand tight.
“I didn’t know you were coming tonight,” he says, keeping his eyes on the ice.
“Yeah, well, I’m gunning for your job,” I joke, but his ears perk up. “I’m kidding.”
I just want your heart.But I don’t dare utter those words out loud.
He shrugs. “You’d be a good fit.”
“You seem like you’re so well-liked, though,” I venture cautiously because it’s much more than that. He’s not just likable. He’s smart. He’s intuitive. He’s innovative. It’s no wonder they’re soaking up the last of his expertise before they turn this contracted position into a corporate one. “I’m sure letting you go will be painful for them.”
He nods. “I’ve done my job here. Now I just need to move on.”
I hang on to each word, wondering if he’s also talking about me or if he’s simply letting me know he’s already let go of me.
“Understandable,” I say.
I’m still clinging to Colin’s arm even though my strides have evened out. Maybe it’s fear that I’ll lose control of my skates if I let him go, or simply the fear I may never have the excuse to hold him again, but I hold onto him tight, even as Bennett skates up to us with a walker for me.
“Ta-dah! Your chariot!” He holds out the red plastic contraption in front of me, and Colin and I slow down to a stop. “You need it.”
“I’m not seven years old,” I argue.
“When you were seven, you could skate, and you’ve regressed,” Bennett says and Colin laughs.
I look at him, aghast. He shrugs. “Well, it’s true.”
Even though it pains me, I let go of Colin’s arm and take the walker meant for someone twenty years younger and a foot and a half shorter than me. But as I grip the handles and start maneuvering around the ice, I can’t help but realize these are amazing. I push away faster, then spin in a circle, only keeping my balance with the contraption in front of me. I let out a laugh as I spin and meet my gaze with Colin’s. Everything starts to move in slow motion.
Bennett’s clapping. Families whizzing by. The way the wind blows my hair. The Christmas music blaring over the speakers. And it’s all because of the way Colin smiles at me.
His lips turn up, and his eyes move from joy to sadness with hints of regret. I slow to a stop and my laughter fades as I hold our stare.
“Well, carry on then,” Bennett says, eyes darting between us before he skates away.
