Page 30 of Lighting the Lamp
The second I meet her gaze, she drops the wave and suddenly finds her coffee cup fascinating, like it holds stock reports or secrets from the Pentagon. Oh, God, can the world open up and swallow me now?
“Subtle.” Beau exhales through his nose, his eyes cutting to the boys on the ice.
“I’m mortified,” I whisper, heat crawling up my neck and down my spine like a slow-burning fuse.
He smiles at me then, not the smirk he wears when he’s performing; this one’s softer, like a secret he’s letting me see.
“You know,” he murmurs, voice barely audible over the scrape of blades on the ice, “for someone so worried about my heart, you sure like messing with it.”
Then he’s gone, turning with a single clean pivot and skating back toward the crease like he didn’t just throw that line over his shoulder and ruin me for the rest of the day.
I stand there too long, hand clutching the boards, waiting for my heart to stop hammering against my ribs. My lips are parted,and I can feel my pulse fluttering in my throat like wings. It wasn’t a kiss, but it almost was. And somehow, that’s so much worse.
When I finally force my legs to move, the climb up to the stands feels twice as long as it should. My knees don’t bend right, my calves ache, and I’m 99 percent sure my face is still glowing like I accidentally walked into a tanning bed. I am not thinking about the way his gaze dropped to my mouth or how his smirk looked like it could set off fire alarms. Nope. Definitely not.
Ramona clocks me the second I hit the top step.
“Ohhh, she’s blushing,” she sing-songs before I even sit down.
I drop onto the bench with a groan, dramatically fanning my face with my hand and looking everywhere but at my best friend. “It’s hot in here.”
Quinn gives me a look that’s equal parts amused and delighted. “Should we have given you two a minute,or a chaperone instead?”
“I’m ignoring everything you say from this point forward,” I mumble, making a noise that’s somewhere between a snort and a whimper.
Ramona leans over, propping her chin on her hand like she’s settling in for a movie. “Alise. Babe. That tension could power the Zamboniandthe scoreboard.”
“Ramona.” I draw out her name like a threat, but she only grins wider.
“So… when’s the wedding? Please don’t choose a date too close to mine because it took forever for Cooper and me to agree on something. I love you, but I’m not sharing my wedding day with you.”
Quinn lets out an exaggerated whine. “But that would be so adorable. The Hendrix brothers, marrying two best friends from their small hometown. The papers would eat that shit up.”
I bury my face in my hands, a muffled sound breaking free against the heat radiating off my skin. “You’re both the worst.”
“I believe that’s a new record. I think it was less than ten seconds before she told us how horrible we were and wanted to bail on the entire conversation.” Quinn giggles.
“Seven,” Ramona says proudly.
“Okay, actually,” I cut in, desperate to change the subject before I do something truly embarrassing like cry or confess that Beau Hendrix’s stupid half smile just rewired my brain. “Do either of you know whether anyone came by to fix the snack bar freezer? I just paid the invoice before leaving my office, but forgot to check that they had completed the work. If I have to chase them down to complete this work order one more time?—”
“Look at her go,” Ramona whispers like a wildlife narrator. “The graceful subject change in its natural habitat.”
I scowl and bump her knee with mine. She bumps me right back, teasingly and full of affection, that saysI see you, even when you don’t say it out loud.
And just like two loyal friends, they dissolve into more teasing at my expense as we watch practice and take every chance they get to tease me about it, but mostly, they let it go. Thank fuck for that because behind the flushed cheeks and frantic deflection, something is cracking open inside me. A quiet little tremor in the chest that I haven’t let myself feel in a long, long time.
It’s not just nerves. It’s not just a crush. It’s the terrifying ache of wanting something real to happen between me and Beau. And for the first time in forever, it doesn’t feel impossible.
It feels dangerously close to hope.
Chapter Eleven
Beau
The locker room is buzzing. Helmets clatter into cubbies, skates grind against tile, and the sharp tang of menthol rub hangs thick in the air. It’s the chaos I usually crave, but not today. Today, I feel like I’m vibrating out of my skin.
The air in the room feels heavier than usual with something no one wants to name. It’s not fear or the usual quiet anger seething under the surface, but dread settling in your spine and not letting go. That kind that builds, slow and silent, until it’s pressing against your lungs like a second ribcage.
