Page 34 of Say It Isn't Snow
Holly by my side.
I won’t leave the cabin regretting the life we could have together for another seven years of radio silence. Not when I have her back now. I’m holding on to her, and I won’t ever let her go again.
If I thought she’d accept without thinking I was being wildly impulsive, I’d get down on one knee and put my ring on her finger right now.
The future I want with her as my wife flashes through my head. Playing hockey knowing she’s rooting for me. Being at her bakery to watch in awe of her in her element. Dedicating myself to caring for her in every way she needs. I crave all of it, as long as it’s with her.
As if thinking about how much I want her summons her, I loop around to find her watching from the edge of the pond. The warmth expanding in my chest whenever I have her attention is becoming familiar again. I can’t get enough of it.
The ends of the bow in her hair blow in the breeze. She’s wearing pink pajama pants with Christmas cookies printed on them stuffed into her boots. Best of all, she borrowed my hoodie. Damn, it looks great. I like seeing her bundled in my clothes.
Waving with a grin, I show off for her.
I pull out all my slickest moves, speeding across the ice like I’m evading defense. She chirps like the best of the fans at first.
“You call that hockey? My grandma plays better than that,” she calls.
My mouth tilts and I skate by her with a wink, blowing her a kiss. “You want to see something? I’ll give you something to cheer about.”
“Oh yeah? That’s some big talk.” She bites her lip, her blue eyes sparkling with amusement.
“Watch me.”
I give her my finest skating, flipping backwards, crossing over, passing the puck between my legs and bouncing it off my blades. She forgets she was teasing me and gets into it.
“Go, go, score! Yes!” She bounces in celebration when I hit the puck and it zooms into the imaginary net.
I can’t help picturing what it would be like to have her at my games. If I hadn’t let her slip through my fingers and she’d been with me my whole career.
Knowing she’s watching me, cheering for me. Dedicating every goal to her. Kissing her on the ice after we win.
Her wearing my jersey. My number. Myname.
My head swims from how strongly I want all those things with her. I close my eyes and blow out a breath to weather the force of my desire for her.
“Okay, I admit it. You looked really cool doing that,” Holly says.
Soft laughter escapes me. Coming to a stop near her, I lean on my stick and run my fingers through my hair.
“Want to skate with me?”
She brightens. “That sounds fun.”
I duck my face with a broad smile. “I brought a spare pair with me in case you came down. Here, sit on my bag and I’ll help you put them on.”
Setting aside my stick and puck, I crouch at her feet and tug off her shoes. She wrinkles her toes against the chill. I rub them to warm her up. She blushes, darting her gaze to the side when I glance up. The urge to keep touching her simmers in my gut, tempting me to slide a hand up to stroke her calves.
After I’ve laced her skates, I take her hand and help her keep her balance stepping onto the frozen pond. She wobbles, clutching me when I catch her waist.
“I’ve got you,” I promise.
“I can’t remember the last time I went ice skating,” she muses. “I feel like I’ve got fawn legs and any second I’ll wipe out. How did this used to be so easy?”
“Confidence is the key. Muscle memory comes second,” I answer.
“Okay, Mister I Wear Sharp Knife Boots and fly around the ice at top speed for a living. Easy for you to say,” she jibes as we make slow progression.
“You can do it. I won’t let you fall.”
