Page 42 of Leo and His Love Bunny
I tell the boys to keep practicing the moves I’ve shown them, and I glide over.
“Hey,” I say as I cut the ice beside her, putting my arm around her but not trying to move her. This is new—putting my arm around someone, but it feels so natural, I hardly think about it. I definitely don’t want to think about what it means or what I’m feeling. I wouldn’t mind knowing what she’s feeling, though. It might help give me some guidance, but my situationhasn’t changed. I’m still trying to start a new business, ending my hockey career and starting a new life.
I don’t have time for a relationship. I’m not sure what I’m doing now.
“Hey. I guess I should have told you that skating with me would not be much fun.”
“What do you mean? Teaching someone to skate is an honor.”
She gives me a sideways glance of disbelief. “I thought I’d pick it up a little faster.”
I laugh. “It doesn’t look that hard, does it?”
Her cheeks, already pink, get a little darker. “You make it look easy.”
“Good save. You didn’t think my job was that hard.”
“You make it look easy.”
I know she’s sincere. I don’t have any problem believing her. I can see the admiration in her gaze.
“Can I help?” I ask.
“I’m not sure there is much you can do.” She is clutching the bar on the side of the ring with both hands.
“The first thing you can do is let go.”
“Let go?” she squeaks.
“Let go of the bar and hold onto me. I won’t let you fall.” I’m a skilled skater, of course, since it’s how I make my living, but I know that I just made a big promise. It’s not something I can really guarantee, but I will do everything in my power to make sure she doesn’t get hurt.
I’m not sure she trusts me that much. But to my amazement, she lets go of the bar with one hand and grips me tight. I smile. I love the feeling of having her hand in mine.
“Other hand?” I say.
She grimaces, lifts a brow, and her shoulders come up in a deep breath.
She doesn’t say anything, but her hand comes up and lands on my arm, holding tight.
I give her a couple of tips for her feet, although it’s more about balance than it is about technique. For me, it’s all about having Nora beside me, and I am enjoying every minute.
Eventually I have to leave her and help my stepbrothers again. The time flies, and before I know it, Addison has texted me and it’s time for us to get off the ice.
“All right, boys, let’s get our skates off, and maybe we’ll have a few minutes to grab a drink and eat some snacks.” I might have been a little worried about getting the boys off the ice, but at the mention of food, they’re willing to go anywhere. I smile, feeling a bond with my brothers for the very first time.
Turning, I figure while they’re getting their skates off, I’ll have a few minutes to share with Nora, and I look at her across the ice, just in time to see her skate catch and her go down hard, twisting her leg as she does.
I’m too far away to even think about catching her, but I’m power-skating toward her before she’s even hit the ice. Thankfully, she lands on her butt and elbow, and her head doesn’t hit the ice. Not that it couldn’t still be a terrible fall, I just am not afraid she’s going to die. But I can’t stand the idea that she might be hurt. Even a little. I’ve seen my share of falls, and I’ve never had these sweaty hands, the pounding heart, and the shaky knees that feel like they’re going to give out.
I skid to a stop, ice flakes flying everywhere, and drop to my knees beside her. “Nora!”
She has rolled over to her side and starts to push up. I don’t plan to do it, but my hand reaches up and pushes her hair back away from her face. I’ve taken some hard falls in my career, and for me, the first thirty seconds after I fall, I don’t want to talk to anyone. I just need time to grit through the first, sharp pain before I become coherent again. Of course, I’m up, because Iplay hockey and I can’t just lie on the ice, but it takes that long before I’m ready to talk.
Her hair is soft under my fingers, and I resist the urge to run my whole hand through it.
“Nora?” I say again, softer. I hear the tender, caring note in my voice, and maybe if I were in my right mind, I’d cringe a little, just because it feels weak to care so much.
“I’m fine. I’m just a klutz.” She grimaces.
