Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 114951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 575(@200wpm)___ 460(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 575(@200wpm)___ 460(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
“You were great,” he said, dropping a kiss on my forehead. “Perfect, sweetheart. Just perfect.”
I swallowed, nodding. “You too.”
He smiled, then his eyes darted beyond me as he spotted one of the owners. He excused himself, leaving me standing in the glow of the lights, the praise still clinging to my skin like static.
You’re fine, I told myself. Look how wonderful he is. Look how much he supports you.
My wrist twinged when I adjusted my bracelets.
I shook it off and headed toward the glass to check on the ice.
Kids dotted the rink, clinging to the boards, shuffling along in slow, terrified inches, or zooming past in fearless streaks. Parents and fans in jerseys filled the lower bowl, some on their feet, some taking videos. Mariah Carey belted out from the speakers, her voice bouncing around the rafters.
And in the middle of it all, I saw him.
Shane.
He was a youthful kind of handsome tonight, sporting a team jacket and a knit beanie pulled low. He wore deep-cut laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. A little boy clung to his hand, skates splayed, legs shaking like a baby deer. Shane was bent slightly at the waist, talking to him, pointing with his free hand to show him where to put his weight.
“Bend your knees,” I read on his lips. “Trust your edges.”
The boy wobbled. Shane steadied him with one hand at his back.
The boy tried again, found his balance, and glided just for a second without panicking.
He laughed, bright and free, looking up at Shane for approval, who met him with a wide grin and a high five.
As if he sensed me, Shane glanced up.
Our eyes locked across the ice, and my stomach somersaulted.
For a moment, the noise fell away. There was just the cold air seeping through the glass, my breath fogging the surface, and his gaze holding mine.
His expression softened, a question in his blue-gray eyes.
You okay?
I didn’t know what to answer back.
Someone tugged on my sleeve.
“Um… excuse me?”
I blinked, tearing my gaze away from Shane to look down.
A young boy stood beside me, maybe eight or nine, cheeks pink under a too-big knit hat, Sweet Dreams wristband snug around his arm. His laces were loose, skates practically falling off his feet.
“Hi there,” I said, forcing my smile back into place. “Having fun?”
He nodded so hard his hat slipped over one eye. “Yeah. I wanted to say… thank you.”
“Oh,” I said, thrown. “You’re welcome. For what am I being thanked for?”
“For this,” he said, gesturing out at the ice. “My mom said we couldn’t do stuff like this anymore. But then she said this one was free.” He rocked back on his blades. “I’ve never skated before. It’s the coolest thing ever.”
Warmth flooded my chest, hot enough to burn through everything else for a second.
“I’m really glad you’re here,” I told him. “And I hope you fall a little bit. That means you’re trying something new.”
He laughed. The sound took me back to when Georgie was his age, and my chest squeezed tighter. “I already fell three times.”
“Perfect,” I said. “You’re doing it right, then.”
“Mrs. Black?”
The woman I assumed was his mom approached then, balancing two Styrofoam cups of hot chocolate. She looked tired in a way I recognized, her smile soft.
“Sorry if he’s bothering you,” she said. “He just really wanted to say thank you.”
“He’s not bothering me at all,” I replied quickly. “I’m happy he found me.”
She hesitated, then shifted the cups to one hand so she could touch my arm. “We… um… we’re on the Sweet Dreams list for beds,” she said. “My son’s been sleeping on the floor since we had to move in with my sister. We both have. They said… they said he’d have a bed by Christmas.”
My throat was so tight I couldn’t swallow.
“I know it’s just a bed,” she rushed on, “but—”
“It’s not just a bed,” I cut in gently. “It’s a place to land. A place that’s his. It matters. He matters.”
Her eyes shone in the way of someone being understood. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For this night. For… everything.”
My smile wobbled. “Thank you,” I said back. “I’m really glad you’re here. And if you give me your name, I’d like to see if we can get a bed for you, too.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, no, it’s okay. I really just want to make sure he—”
“Please,” I said softly, hoping my smile communicated that I understood where she was at and wanted to meet her there. “I’d really love to.”
With a watery smile, she nodded, providing me her name and number on the list. I jotted it down in my phone, making a mental note, too.
After, she guided her son back toward the ice, and I watched them go, my heart too full and too empty all at once.
This is why you stay, I reminded myself. This is why you swallow what you swallow. Look what you get to do. Look who you get to help.