Chapter Fifteen

Brent

Walking into the indoor ice rink, I see Liam zeroing in on Zoey the second we walk in the doors. He's sitting, lacing up his skates with Shelby by his side.

We walk up to the skate rentals. Even though I have my skates with me, Zoey will need some.

"What size do you need?" I ask her.

She's distracted when I ask, seeing Liam and Shelby just threw her but she doesn't tense but like she did last night at the bar.

"I don't know," she says, diverting her attention away from them.

"Well, what do you usually rent?" I ask, trying to keep it easy.

"I don't. I've never been ice skating."

That doesn't make sense. She dated a hockey player for almost three years of high school.

"Liam never took you ice skating?" I ask, unable to keep the surprise out of my tone.

What a shit boyfriend.

How did I not see all of this happening when Liam and I were still on good terms? How did I idolize him for so long?

I guess because we grew up together and I saw him as the big brother I never had.

If Zoey had been mine, I would have gotten her out on the ice with me as often as possible.

"You'll want them tight. You'll have more control if they fit snug." I offer.

She nods in response, but I can see in her eyes that she's trusting me to make the call on this.

"Size seven," she tells me.

"Can my girlfriend get a size six and a half and a size seven, please?" I ask the guy on the other side of the rental desk, putting emphasis on my girlfriend in case Liam's listening in. But maybe I like saying it too.

"Holy shit! You're Brent Tomlin!" The kid says.

"Yeah, I am." I smile back at him. "How are you?"

"I can't believe this! Will you help me with my backhand?" he asks.

He can't be more than seventeen years old, and although I want to spend every minute I can with Zoey, I like helping out the next generation of hockey players.

A few pointers out on the ice won't take long.

"Sure, do you have a break soon?"

He looks up at the clock attached to the wall behind him.

"Yeah, lunch in twenty," he beams.

I can feel Zoey's eyes on me. She's enjoying this for some reason.

"Come on out later, and we'll run a few drills together. We'll pinpoint where you need to improve and go from there."

His eyes widen, and he fist bumps into the air.

"Yes! Thank you," he says. "None of the guys are going to fucking believe me." Then he turns behind him and pulls Zoey's skates out of the cubby stacked behind him.

"Here you go," the kid says, setting Zoey's skates on the table.

"Thanks," she says with a smile.

She grabs one set of skates, and I grab the other. We move to an open area with blue-painted wooden benches.

We sit side by side as we pull on our skates.

I lace mine up in record time but watch as she struggles.

"Here, let me help you," I offer, sliding off the bench and placing one knee on the ground, kneeling in front of her in the same position I'd be in if I were proposing.

A kick to the stomach radiates at the thought of proposing to Zoey. Then I realize that the feeling isn't of dread but of excitement. There has never been a single woman in all the years away from Zoey who has ever inspired the idea of wanting to propose.

We try the size six and a half first.

"How do those feel?" I ask, helping her to stand up on them to see how they feel.

Her attention is down on her skates too. "A little tight but not uncomfortable."

I glance down too, her hands still in mine as I hold her up.

"Then these are the right size."

"Thank you," she says.

She looks back up at me, her eyes sparkling back.

Is she feeling this, too?

Out of the corner of my eye, I feel someone's eyes on us.

I look over to my left toward the rink to find Liam with a "don't touch my girl" look on his face. Luckily, Zoey isn't his—not anymore, and he had his chance last night to change that.

He and Shelby get up and walk toward the doors that lead to the rink.

I grab the other set of skates and take them back to the attendant.

I head back over to where she's waiting for me, and then we start walking toward the double doors that lead out to the climate-controlled ice rink.

Her steps are clunky, and I smile at myself as she grips around my arm to help keep herself stable.

She's not used to walking in skates, and it's fucking cute as shit.

"What are you nervous about?"

I pull open one of the rink's doors and let her go through first and then I follow.

"Falling on my butt." She chuckles.

"I won't let you fall," I say back, stopping in the frame of the ice rink.

"You promise?" she asks.

I tighten my hand around hers as she stares up at me. I can see the trust in her eyes, and I never want to lose that again.

"I promise."

We get to the opening of the ice rink, and my muscles ache to push out on the ice. I step out onto the ice and listen for the sound of the ice cracking under my blade.

"Hey, Brent…!" I hear a voice out on the ice.

It's Phoebe's.

A large group of family and friends are also out on the ice.

"Look up," she yells again.

I crane my neck to see what Phoebe is talking about, and so does Zoey.

Mistletoe.

Tied together by the red Christmas bow and hanging just above our heads.

I glance back out to the rink and see that everyone's skating in circles but watching Zoey and me. There are smiles on everyone's faces… except for Zoey's dad. Her parents are holding hands and skating behind Phoebe and David.

Zoey's dad hasn't liked me since I stood his daughter up during prom. I don't blame him for that. I'd hate the punk-ass kid who did my daughter wrong, too. But in that case, he should really hate Liam.

I glance down at Zoey to find her staring at the mistletoe above us.

"We don't have to if you don't want to," I assure her.

Despite what we did last night, we didn't kiss on the lips. This would be a first for us, but I'm not going to pressure her. It's up to her what we do.

She looks around at the crowd of people, pretending not to stare as they skate by. If she wants to sell this dating thing… Now is the time to prove it.

She looks back up at me and then clears her throat.

"It's tradition… right?" she asks.

"Right.. tradition," I say, turning to face her.

I take a step closer to her.

If I ever needed an excuse to finally kiss Zoey, this is it. It may be the only chance I get.

The song "Baby, It's Cold Outside" streams over the rink's stereo system, the tip of her nose already starting to redden slightly at the nip of the cold air in the rink.

We're back in the place where everything started.

Seeing Zoey in the stands always made me skate harder… even though she was always wearing Liam's jersey.

I step closer, lifting my hands and gliding them over her jaw to pull her in closer. She takes another step toward me, her skates sliding between mine.

I lick my lips, and her eyes drop from my eyes to my mouth. She wants this. She may not admit it, but I can see it in her eyes, I can hear her holding her breath, and I can feel her pulse begin to race with my hand along her jaw and throat, my pinky running over her pulse point.

"Don't be a pussy, Tomlin… kiss her!" David yells from the opposite side of the rink.

She chuckles, and I grin down at her.

Her eyes lock on mine, and this is the moment I'm going to kiss Zoey for the first time. This feels like years in the making, even if most of those years she hated me.

I bend down and press my lips to hers. She tastes like the fruit punch from the buffet at my gran's party. Her lips are soft and sweet to the taste.

My mouth waters at the thought of dipping my tongue in to taste her, but she might pull away if I try, and I can't live with that. I can't give her any reason to pull away—ever.

Her hands reach up and over to the back of my neck, pulling me closer.

I rotate my mouth, trying to get every angle I can for the time she'll let me.

If she let me, I'd pull her up against my chest and get her out of here. I'd find a private corner somewhere, and we wouldn't stop kissing until she pulled away.

A few whistles and catcalls ring out, and then she pulls her lips off mine, covering her mouth and giggling shyly at the attention we've garnered.

I know I must be grinning down at her like an idiot, but I can't help it.

"Alright, I think we gave them enough of a show, don't you think?" she asks.

"Yeah, let's go," I agree.

I give my back to the rink and pull both of Zoey's hands into mine.

"Are you ready?" I ask her, trying to contain my smile, but I can't.

I have Zoey in the one place that makes me the happiest, and it's the first time in ten years that she's giving me the time of day.

Not to mention that I'm still on a high from that kiss.

"Can we go slow?" she asks.

"Yeah, Zoe… we can go slow."

I'll go at whatever speed you want as long as we decimate that wall you built between us .

I pull her out onto the ice slowly.

She wobbles a little the first second that her blades hit the ice. Like a damn cute newborn baby giraffe, first learning to walk.

She watches her skates with each push she makes.

I coach her while skating backward, bringing her with me.

Her hands gripped tightly to mine. The look of someone experiencing ice skating for the first time is an honor to witness. I don't know who I'd be if I hadn't had hockey during my parents' death. It was the only thing that pulled me out of the darkness. Being out on the ice was the only time I could breathe. It's the only place where pain and hurt and fear of the unknown couldn't follow me. All I was required to do out there was skate.

"Take your time. We're not in a rush," I say to ease her mind. "Use your back leg to push off."

She does, gliding forward toward me while I skate backward.

"Good," I praise.

She doesn't look up from her skates, but I see the smile of confidence starting to bloom.

"Nice work."

I continue to encourage her as we skate close to the sidewalls, letting faster ice skaters whiz past us.

We've made two full laps around the rink when she looks up at me with a huge grin on her face. She's proud of herself, and so am I.

Some punk-ass kid comes skating too close to Zoey, trying to impress me with his fancy footwork, but it startles Zoey.

She lets out a squeak and starts to wobble, quickly losing her footing.

Just before she eats it, I grip her around her middle and pull her up to me.

Her fingers grip tightly to my jacket to steady herself. Her eyes are wide as she stares up at me.

"Whoa, are you okay?" I ask once she recovers and gets her feet back under her.

She's still a little uneasy in my arms, but I'm in no hurry to let her go.

"Yeah… I'm fine. Thanks for not letting me land on my ass. That would have been humiliating," she giggles.

Our faces are so close that I want to bend down again and taste her for a second time.

Her honey-brown eyes stay fixed on mine, and this feels like the moment I get to kiss her because we both want it, not because of some Christmas tradition that we were put on the spot to do.

"I'm ready!" The kid from the skate rentals desk rolls up on us.

Has it already been twenty minutes?

I think he's cheating.

I look down at her, and she smiles back at me.

"That's my cue for some hot cocoa in that heated room that overlooks the rink," she tells me.

It's the room she used to watch Liam and our high school team during practice skate when there weren't all the families on the bleachers during the game.

I don't want her to go, but I did promise this kid I'd spend a few minutes with him.

"I'll take you back," I tell Zoey, skating her back to the opening in the rink.

"That was really fun. Thank you for teaching me to skate. I can't imagine I could possibly have had a better teacher."

"I liked having you out here with me," I admit.

She smiles back and then spins around and wobbles back toward the doors that lead into the warm lobby of the rink where the snacks and staircase to the upper level with the fireplace sits.

I skate back over, and the kid hands me a hockey stick. Several pucks are already lined up and he brought out a net. I tell him to shoot them so I can see where we need to start.

Within a few minutes of watching this kid do a decent job, something catches my eye on the second floor.

I see Zoey stand from the couch she was perched on earlier, watching everyone skating out on the ice.

My vision catches on the one thing that has my heart racing and my need to race up those steps and interrupt.

Liam.

I glance around the ice rink quickly, and the view of Shelby still on the ice rink looking around like she lost someone makes me aware that Liam is up there talking to Zoey with neither Shelby nor I around to witness it.

Goddammit.

I try to reel in my frustration.

I have an obvious future NHL recruit in front of me and someone Coach Bex will want to see once he hits his senior year.

Tack on the fact that racing up to the second story and barging in on this conversation won't win me any points with Zoey.

If Zoey wants this to happen… if she still wants Liam to realize what he gave up so that he breaks it off with Shelby, then I'm better off staying down here.

I'd been stuck between the two of them before, and it didn't end well for me. I won't do it again.

Our history of her hating me for all these years doesn't help the situation, and even though it feels like she's warming back up to me, that's a long stretch to agreeing to take me over him.

I stand at the bottom of the ice rink and stare straight up at them as Liam takes a few more steps closer to Zoey.

I fight back the urge to do a trick shot and whack a puck, sending it flying up at the glass window where Zoey is sitting to break their line of sight. I don't want to startle her.

I hear a clearing of a voice that breaks me from my haze.

"Like this, Mr. Tomlin?" the kid says, taking another shot at the net.

Fuck, the kid is impressive, and I make a mental note to text Coach Bex to come down here next year to check out this kid his senior year.

"Call me Brent. And yeah, that looks good, kid. Keep it up, and make sure your hand position is in the middle of the stick and step into the shot. Don't grip too high, or that will turn into a bad habit that Coach Bex will break you of like a stubborn mule if you come to the big leagues with it."

"Coach Bex?!" he says, his eyes practically bulging from his head.

"I'll let him know there's some talent down here when I head back to Seattle. He might be interested in seeing you play next year."

The kid's eyes flare with excitement.

"Wow, Mr. Tomlin… I mean Brent… thank you," he says, a lopsided grin finally curving up as he says it.

"I have to get going because my friends are leaving. Keep it up, alright? You've got talent," I tell him.

When I glance back up at the warming room, I see Liam with his hand on Zoey's right arm. He's rubbing her arm up and down, and she's nodding at something he's saying.

Even after all the coaching I just did in my head to tell myself not to blow up their second reunion, I can't stop my skates from gliding over the ice in fury.

I can't stop my heart from racing and my blood pumping through my veins.

Fuck it.

He had his shot last night, but she ended up falling in my arms.

Now, there's a change of plans. I'm not going to make it easy for him.