Chapter Seventeen

Holly

T he cold air stings my face as we walk toward the rink, and I shove my hands deeper into my pockets, trying to warm up my body. But it’s not working. I’m wearing a T-shirt, a big fluffy sweater, a puffer coat, a scarf, a hat, and I’m still really fricking cold.

I tell myself that’s the only reason why my bones are shaking right now, and not the nerves building up inside me. We head toward the rink, and the sound of laughter and music fills the air, the magical lights making my eyes light up as skates scrape across the ice. It looks so magical, it almost doesn’t look real, and I should be loving this, but all I can focus on is the nervous knot forming in my stomach.

“I’m nervous,” I admit, glancing over at Mark. My voice comes out smaller than I intended, but I keep my eyes on him.

He raises an eyebrow slightly as he pulls his gloves tighter. “You’ve got nothing to be nervous about,” he says, his voice steady.

I sneak a glance at the slick, shiny ice in front of us. “What if I fall?” I blurt out, worry creeping into my voice .

“You probably will,” he replies, his tone matter-of-fact as he sits on the bench and starts putting his skates on.

I shoot him a dry look. “Thanks.” Of all the things he could say to make me feel better, that definitely wasn’t it.

Mark shrugs. “Just being honest, Bambi,” he says, tying the laces before he turns his eyes on me. “If you’ve never skated before, then you’ll probably fall, but I’ll be here,” he says. “And I’ll catch you.”

I try to shake off the nerves that are making my hands a little shaky as I pull my boots off before placing the skates on. “I should have just canceled,” I mutter, more to myself than him.

He catches my eye, his expression tightening. “If you like the guy, then I don’t see why you’d want to cancel.”

I frown, the thought of having to do this all over again without Mark this time, only fueling the anxiety brewing inside me. “What if I make a fool of myself?” I ask.

Mark lifts himself off the bench and stands in front of me before kneeling down to the ground, on one knee, while he places my foot on it and ties off the laces. “We’re here so that won’t happen,” he says softly. “You can make a fool out of yourself in front of me all you like.” He tightens the last lace and slowly drops my foot back to the ground. “I won’t mind. I won’t judge.”

My lips widen as a smile breaks through, and my chest starts banging. “You never do.”

He stares back at me for a while before he nods, lifting himself off the ground. “Let’s go, Bambi,” he says, gesturing toward the ice .

I let out a laugh. “Oh hey, that nickname finally works in this scenario,” I say, fitting my arm underneath his to wrap it around his arm as we head toward the ice.

“It works everywhere,” he teases, glancing down at me with an arched brow. “You have no balance.”

I gasp. “I used to do gymnastics in school,” I say defensively.

Mark looks at me with a raised eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “Really?” He shakes his head. “I have a hard time believing that.”

“Have I ever lied to you?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. You could be a pro at skating and lied just to get me here.”

I can’t help but laugh, the tension in my shoulders easing a little. “That’s way too smart. I’m not that smart.”

Mark’s face drops slightly. “I hate when you say that,” he says, his brows knitting together.

“What?” I ask, a little confused.

“I’m not that smart, I’m not pretty, I’m not funny,” he says, repeating my words. “Holly, you’ve got to stop with the self-depreciation. You’re all of those things.”

A warmth spreads through my chest at his words, and I shake my head slightly. “I am?”

A low groan escapes his throat. “Don’t make me repeat it,” he mutters.

But I want him to repeat it. I want to hear him say I’m pretty, smart, and funny over and over again until these butterflies stop in my stomach, though I doubt they ever will. “I just didn’t hear you, with these earmuffs and all,” I say, tugging at the fluffy white muffs that are probably way too big for my head.

A puff of air leaves his lips, his breath visible in the cold air as he shakes his head. “You look like a huge marshmallow.”

I frown. “It’s cold,” I protest, pulling my scarf tighter around my neck. “It’s not my fault you’re made of ice.”

He arches a brow. “I’m used to the cold,” he says. “I used to play hockey.”

My eyes widen, surprise taking over. “You did?”

He nods, pressing his lips flat. “In college.”

Wow. I rake my eyes over him, taking in his burly frame. “Were you good?”

He shrugs. “Pretty good.”

“So why did you quit?” I ask, furrowing my brows.

He shakes his head. “It wasn’t my dream to be a pro hockey player. It was just something I enjoyed doing.”

I nod in understanding. I mean, I love shopping, but I wouldn’t give up my dream of working with foster children for anything in the world.

“So, is the bar your dream, then?”

He turns his head, his brows tugging together and he looks lost in thought. “I never thought it would be,” he admits. “But when I met Charles…” He doesn’t finish his sentence, and I reach out, placing my hand over his as our eyes lock together.

A tap on the railing of the skating rink snaps us out of the moment and we glance at the guy in the ticket office. “You guys are up next,” he says.

Mark holds eye contact. “You ready?”

“No,” I admit, staring at the smooth ice with wide eyes. I’m pretty sure my knees are going to give out the second I step onto that ice.

“Come on, you’ll be fine. I’ve got you,” he says, untangling our arms before he reaches for my hand.

Reluctantly, I take it, and we step out onto the ice together. My legs wobble immediately, and I can already feel the panic rising in my throat. “Oh, fuck,” I blurt out as I stumble, my feet slipping out from under me.

“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you swear,” I hear Mark saying, though I can’t see him, because I’m too busy trying not to fall on my ass.

I breathe out a scoff. “Yeah, well, excuse me for swearing when I’m on a block of ice with blades on my feet.” My feet slip again and I groan, squeezing my eyes closed. “This is so not natural.”

Mark’s hand tightens around mine, and in an instant, he’s there, steadying me, his arm wrapping around my waist to keep me upright. “I’ve got you,” he says, his voice close, warm against the cold air. “Hold my hand.”

“I don’t think that’s going to help me right now,” I cry, wanting to go back to my warm comfortable stable bed. “If I go down, I’ll take you with me.”

“Bambi, you’re half my size,” he says dryly. “Just hold on and look at me,” he tells me, his voice softer than usual.

I groan before snapping my eyes open and lifting my head to look up at him.

“That’s it,” he says with a nod. “Just keep your eyes on me. ”

For a moment, I’m frozen, but not from the cold. I’m staring up at him, my heart racing for reasons that have nothing to do with fear. His face is inches from mine, and I can see every detail. The way his breath fogs in the air between us and his eyes, usually so guarded, soften as they meet mine.

“Your eyes,” I murmur.

“What about them?” he asks.

I keep my attention on the warm chocolate pools with specks of gold scattered. “They’re… like honey. I never noticed how beautiful they are.”

The silence between us stretches, the music filling the air before he murmurs so quietly I almost miss it, “Right back at you, Holly.”

A flush creeps onto my cheeks as we start skating slowly, Mark keeping a firm hold on my hand. It’s almost as if he’s afraid to let go, and honestly, I don’t want him to. I focus on moving one foot in front of the other, the feeling of sliding across the ice becoming slightly less terrifying with each step.

Mark squeezes my hand, drawing my attention back to him. “You see, Bambi? You’re skating,” he says, a hint of pride in his voice.

I glance down at our feet moving over the ice, and my eyes widen before I lift my head, looking back at him. “I’m doing it,” I repeat with a chuckle. I’m actually skating. Clumsily, sure, but I’m still doing it.

“I knew you could. You ready for me to let go, yet?” he asks.

“Don’t you dare,” I warn, my grip on his hand tightening .

A laugh escapes him as he shakes his head and tightens his hold on me. “Okay, I won’t let you go.”

I freeze, my lips dropping open as I’m stuck staring back at him.

I stop moving on the ice, lifting my hand to trace his lips with my fingers. “Do that again.”

His brows lift a little. “What are you talking about?” he asks, his voice low, his breath warm against my fingertips.

I lift my eyes to his and shake my head. “You… smiled,” I say, feeling a rush of fluttering in my chest. “You finally smiled.” I breathe out a soft laugh. “I was starting to think it was physically impossible for you to do.”

He chuckles again, softly this time and the sound vibrates through me, warm and comforting and I’ve quickly become addicted to the way he smiles. “You make it easy,” he says, covering his hand over mine.

His hand is firm on my waist, holding me securely, and suddenly, the world seems to narrow down to just this—just him and me and the way he’s looking at me like he might see something in me I’ve never even seen in myself. I feel a strange warmth spreading through me, starting at the spot where his hand rests against my waist.

For a heartbeat, neither of us moves. We’re just… staring at each other, caught in a moment I don’t fully understand. I’m hyper-aware of how close we are and how easy it would be to just lean in and close the gap between us. My eyes drop to his lips, and I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing .

Then, just as quickly as it started, the moment breaks. I blink, and Mark shifts, his arm still around me but his gaze moving away, looking out over the ice instead of at me. “Let’s go, Bambi,” he says gruffly. “We’ve got a lot of practice before your date.”

I swallow hard, the reminder of why we’re here jolting me back to reality. “Right, my date.”

“With Ryan,” he adds, his eyes hardening as his previous smile is wiped clean.

But my mind wasn’t on Ryan. For a moment, it was about nothing and nobody but us .

I turn my attention back to Mark, I can’t help the nagging thought in my mind. My eyes drift over his face, searching for… I don’t even know what.

Ryan is a great guy. And he’s funny and likes me. And I did have a great time with him.

Then why can’t I stop wishing Mark would have kissed me?