That's when I see her.
Walking across the town square, Mia's bundled up in an oversized coat that makes her look like a small, adorable burrito. Her hair is pulled back in a messy bun, and even from a distance, I can see the exhaustion in the way she moves.
"Please tell me this isn't some elaborate apology that involves public humiliation," she says when she reaches me, eyeing the rink warily.
"Would I do that to you?"
"Current you? Probably not. Eighteen-year-old you? Definitely."
I laugh, some of the nervous energy in my chest loosening. "Fair point. But no, no public humiliation. I promise."
"Then what's this about?" She gestures at the rink, where couples and families are skating in circles. "Because I should warn you, I haven't been on skates in probably five years."
"It's not a date," I say quickly. "I mean, it's notnota date, but it's... shit. Let me start over."
Before I can lose my nerve, I step closer and pull her into a hug. She stiffens for a heartbeat, then melts against me, her arms coming up to wrap around my waist.
She feels perfect in my arms. Warm and soft and exactly where she belongs.
"How are you holding up?" I murmur against her hair.
"I'm fine."
"Liar. When's the last time you slept more than two hours straight?"
"I think we both know by now sleep is overrated."
"The puppies doing okay?"
"Getting stronger every day. We might not lose any of them, which is..." She pulls back to look at me, and there's wonder in her eyes. "It's a miracle, honestly. I was sure we'd lose at least one or two."
"You saved them, Mia."
"Wesaved them. You've been there every night, Ryder. I couldn't have done it without you."
The admission makes something warm unfurl in my chest.
"Come on," I say, tugging her toward the skate rental booth. "Skate with me."
"I told you, I haven't skated in—"
"Five years, I know. But it's like riding a bike. You never really forget."
She looks skeptical but follows me to the booth, where a teenager with impressive bedhead hands over two pairs of skates in exchange for my twenty-dollar bill.
"I can't believe I'm doing this," Mia mutters as we find a bench to change. "If I break my ankle, I'm blaming you."
"If you break your ankle, I'll carry you to the hospital myself."
"How very noble of you."
I lace up my skates while she struggles with hers, swearing under her breath at the tight fit.
"Here," I say, kneeling in front of her to help with the laces. "You want them snug but not cutting off circulation."
"I remember how to lace skates, Ryder."
"Do you? Because right now you look like you're trying to perform surgery."
