Page 26 of Spiral
“And you love him.”
“I do.”
I pressed a hand to his arm. “So why are you onlythinkingof asking him to marry you?”
He blinked at me, and it was as if any doubt he might be having that Jackson wasn’t his forever slipped away. “I’m not,” he said and sat back in his seat. “I’mnotthinking. Iamgoing to ask him.”
“Congratulations, bestie.” I tugged my best friend into an awkward sideways hug. “You found your man, you keep him.”
“And if he says yes…”
“Whenhe says yes.”
“You’ll be my best man?”
Emotion choked me. I’d seen so much of his grief after Melissa died, of the way he was with the girls, how he’d finally found a new love, and I was so happy for him.
“Of course I will.”
He gripped my arm and grinned. “One day soon, I’m gonna ask Jackson to marry me.”
“And I’ll babysit when you do it.”
“You won’t need to. I have this idea…”
“What idea?”
“Never mind.” He rested his forehead on mine. “You’re a good friend, Jameson Hennessy.” Then he sat back and gestured for me to get out. “Now, go data collect.”
I grinned at him, happy with the world, and now I was going intodata collectwith Craig. This was a good morning.
This was sonota good morning.
“I don’t understand why you’re making me bloody skate, for god’s sake,” I said for the millionth time. And yes, I was exaggerating, but I’m a doctor of mathematics, so sue me. For some ungodly reason, Craig had extra skates with him, and this wasn’t just going to be me documenting him when he was determined to get me out on the ice.
“So, you can feel what it’s like from a practical point of view,” he said again.
Despite my better judgment, I was letting this happen and right now he was crouched in front of me, balanced on his skates, peering up at me from under his messy, flicky fringe, or bangs as they called them here, and no, I had no idea why. He was so beautiful down there, smiling at me as if he were giving me the world when actually he was giving me a pair of used skates and forcing me onto the ice upon which I would likely die.
As we approached the rink, all the injury statistics I had read up on came rushing back to me. “You know, the likelihood of injury on public ice rinks is statistically high for a first-time skater,” I told him, hoping maybe this last fact could get me out of having to skate.
Craig just chuckled and handed me a pair of skates. “Well… one, this isn’t a public rink. It’s just us, and two, I’m right here with you.”
Strapping on the skates had felt like gearing up for a dangerous mission, and neither of us was padded up like Craig was in a game. When I stepped onto the ice, my movements were awkward, reminiscent of a newborn deer’s first steps. Craig stayed close, and I swear I was cutting off the circulation in his fingers by how tightly I gripped his hands.
“Just keep your knees bent and your weight forward a bit,” he instructed, skating backward with ease in front of me.
I grimaced, attempting to mimic his posture while recounting another fact to distract myself from abject fear. “I read about this kid who lost a finger because someone skated over his hand.”
“Jamie…”
“Look I know it’s pretty rare, but you can see why I’m not thrilled about this.”
Craig smiled at me. “You’re safe with me, and no one’s going to skate over your hands.”
“If I fall?—”
“You won’t fall.”
