Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 53212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 266(@200wpm)___ 213(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 266(@200wpm)___ 213(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
This is exactly what I needed.
I start my laps, letting muscle memory and rhythm take over. The tension of work and Gammy and weird feelings—along with a million other weights I didn’t even know I was holding—begins to loosen, and I can feel my shoulders drop as my breath evens out.
This is why I come here. This is peace. This is home.
Maybe it’s because it makes me feel close to my mom and dad—they met here at this very rink and fell in love nearly thirty years ago, before they had me. Before they passed away. Maybe it’s because it’s the only thing I do just for me. And who knows, maybe it’s even simpler—a true testimonial for the endorphins in exercise.
But whatever the reason, I’m grateful such a place exists.
I’m halfway through my fifth lap when all those good feelings start to meld with something of a different kind. It’s a subtle shift—a slight raise of my now-relaxed shoulders and a tingle at the back of my neck. But it’s enough to get my attention.
I slow my speed and move my eyes away from the ice and toward the plexi. I spot Holland on the other side of the glass, one shoulder resting on it casually. As our eyes meet, a soft smile spreads across his mouth.
“Long day?” he calls out toward me, and my stomach tightens a little.
How long has he been here? Why is he here? He’s not dressed in hockey gear, and the Fighting Fangs don’t usually practice on Monday nights anyway.
They’re harmless. Alyssa’s words ring out in my head, urging me to settle. Holland Thorne and I have been interacting for going on two years at this point at an acquaintance level, and he’s probably trying to cross the threshold into friendly. It’s not like I have to marry the guy, but it wouldn’t kill me to dial down the brain drama a click or two.
“Yeah,” I reply, skating toward him but stopping a few feet short, the wall still between us. “Pretty sure this is the eighty-fourth hour and counting.”
He’s still smiling as he pushes off the glass. “I had a feeling I’d find you here.”
“You came here looking for me?”
He shakes his head, rounding the wall to the opening and leaning into the side of it. “Well, technically, I just finished up a workout on the ice about forty minutes ago. Practice.” He shrugs and grins.
I guess they changed up their practice schedule.
“But I thought maybe you’d show up here to work out, so I hung around. I wanted to let you know about this private event thing I’m going to later this week.”
“Private event?” I question, taking in the way he’s dressed with sharp eyes. Suit. Tie. Perfectly groomed hair. He must’ve showered after his practice.
“Yeah. The firm I work at is having a private event on Friday night. Drinks. Dancing. Food. It’s more of a networking thing, but there will be a lot of people there who like to invest in…talent. I thought maybe you’d be interested, so I wanted to invite you.”
I don’t know what kind of firm Holland works at, but my brows knit over the casual way he’s inviting me on…a date? I don’t know if that’s what he’s getting at, but for the life of me, I can’t think of any other reason he’d be inviting me to some kind of work event for talent scouting.
“Talent?” I repeat. “What exactly does that have to do with me?”
I’m no Hollywood actress or model or singer. I’m a junior accountant who skates as a hobby.
“You skate beautifully, Kylie,” he says, like it’s a fact, not a compliment. “There are a lot of avenues where you could turn that talent into something else. Lots of people who’d love to utilize you. You’ve never thought about breaking away from the accounting gig?”
My responding laugh is quick and edged with strain. “Oh yeah. Only every tax season or so, when taking a bath with my toaster starts to sound reasonable. But not, like, seriously. For the most part, I like what I do.”
His smile is easy and patient. “No pressure. Totally your call. Just figured it might be something worthy of your time. And, well, I’d be there. So, yeah.” He winks. “It’d be fun too. We could hang out.”
Okay, yep. There’s the date part I was wondering about.
Which I’m absolutely not interested in. Holland seems nice, but he’s not even remotely my type.
Though, I’ve never thought about finding a way to turn my love and passion for ice skating into some kind of career. And turning down the opportunity to explore that just because I don’t want to lead him on feels a little hasty…
“That’s really…nice of you,” I answer, my voice hesitant with each word as I attempt to toe the thin line precariously placed between the two parts of me. “Can…I …uh…think about it?”