“Always.” She plays with her prosthetic then must decide she’s sick of wearing it because she unhooks it and drops it on the middle console and rubs her arm.
“He loves you.”
“Yeah,” she nods. “A bit too much sometimes.”
“That’s not possible.”
“He blames himself for what happened to my mom,” she says so quietly I think I’ve misheard her. She chews on her bottom lip, clearly unsure if she wants to say anything more. But then she continues. “My mom hadn’t been feeling well that day and asked my dad to stop at the store on his way home from work. He was exhausted and forgot, so my mom went instead. But she never came back.”
I squeeze the steering wheel. My heart physically aches for her. Of all the things I wish I could fix, that one is at the top of the list.
“I know he’s only afraid of losing me like he lost mom, but he can’t protect me forever. Some mistakes I’ve got to make myself.”
It feels like she’s talking more to herself than me at this point. “What mistakes do you want to make?”
“Preferably none.”
“Let me rephrase that. What mistakes would you like to make tonight?”
She finally looks over at me and her eyes widen at the grin on my face. “Whatever you’re thinking, the answer is no.”
“You don’t even know what I’m thinking.”Idon’t even know what I’m thinking.
“I’m not driving the principal’s car onto the football field or hoisting the wrestlers’ onesies up the flagpole.”
I throw my head back, laughing. “For the record, the onesies weren’t me, but I don’t regret the car on the football field. Mrs. Beatty had a Tesla, I practically flew there.”
She snorts.
“Let’s make a mistake tonight.” I purse my lips. “Skinny dipping or skydiving?”
She snorts. “Neither.”
“Do you want to drive a fast car?”
“What kinds of options are these?”
She’s right, those are old Sean’s idea of fun. New Sean has a much better idea.
***
The outdoor ice rink is crowded with dozens of people already skating beneath candy cane archways and around a Christmas tree the size of a two-story building.
“What are you going to make me do? Bungee jump off that skywalk up there?” London asks, already shivering in the spare coat I found in my truck. It practically touches her knees, but she couldn’t be more gorgeous in it.
I look at the skywalk in question. Thatcouldbe fun. But…“No.”
“Set me up as a goalie and shoot pucks at me?”
It seems I’ve got a ways to go to prove myself. “We are here to skate.”
“For real?” Her brows furrow. “When you were talking about making mistakes I pictured something a little more dangerous?”
“Ice skating is plenty dangerous,” I chuckle. “But believe it or not, I don’t always crash through bakery windows and pull stupid stunts that land me in trouble.”
“So we’rejustskating?” she asks again, her body relaxing as she releases the death grip she had on her arm.
“Yes. Unless you’d like to bungee jump off that skywalk. I think they’d kick us out but it would be worth it.”
