And just like that, the simple reminder of who we are throws a wet blanket over our banter, and I remember why we’re here in the firstplace.
“Well, thank you very much for reminding me of that fact.” She opens her mouth to stutter an apology, but I hold out a hand and stop her. “The owner is a buddy of mine, and I took in one of his players’ delinquent brother at the center. He owed me afavor.”
“But why? Why would you do this forme?”
“Because you have this hang-up about not doing things you think you’re going to fail at. Sometimes you just have to fall on your ass, Shy. Then you get back up and fall on it again. Eventually, you learn not to fall. But you’ll never know unless you take that firsthit.”
“Why do you even care to dothis?”
“Why do you care notto?”
“I can’t,” she says softly. “Take mehome.”
“No. You’re going to do this if I have to drag your frost-bitten ass all over this rink.” She looks up at me with that sex-kitten look of hers that’s gotten her whatever she’s wanted her wholelife.
But today, I’m hauling her out of her comfortzone.
Forty-five minutes later, Shiloh’s legs look like she’s been sliding down a ski slope drunk and bare-assed. Her thighs are the color of hell-fire and honestly, she’s hit the ground more than she’s moved forward. I’m starting to think that whole beginners’ luck thing is a crock ofshit.
“Shy, maybe we should just call it aday.”
“No,” she growls, climbing to her feet with a grimace. “One more time. I’ll get it right thistime.”
“Fine,” I sigh, reaching for her hands and pulling her the rest of the way up. “Last time. If you go down again, we’redone.”
She nods and I shift to her side, entwining our fingers as she moves her skates exactly how I told her to. She wobbles, and I loosen my hold, convinced she’s going down and not wanting to be part of the carnage. To my surprise, she steadies herself and her ankles straighten. She pushes off one, then the other, eventually moving at a faster pace until she lets go of my hand and stands all on herown.
“I’m doing it!” she screams, throwing her hands out to the side for balance. “Cary, look! I’m actually doingit!”
I’ll be damned. She is doing it. I have to give her credit. I assumed she’d give up a long time ago, but apparently Shiloh is full of surprises. Catching up to her, I grab her hand, and for the next half hour, Captain Badass attempts showsoff.
“Nice. What happened to ‘I can’t do this, Cary. Take mehome’?”
Shiloh throws back her head and laughs, then swipes a drop of water off my cheek with her. “That was before I knew how fun it could be to fuck withyou.”
The simple gesture should mean nothing, but it grips something in my stomach and twists it into knots. It’s too familiar. Too natural. Too everything. This is about making her trust a connection that no longer exists, not reestablishingone.
“Well, I wasn’t smoothing out the entire rink with my ass cheeks, sweetheart.” I expect her to come back at me with one of her sharp-tongued insults, so it shocks me to see tears spill down her flushed cheeks. The corners of her mouth quiver, and she covers her face with her hands as she breaksdown.
Shit. I’m such anasshole.
“I was just kidding. Don’t take it so hard. Everyonefalls.”
Shuttering, she slides her palms from her face and punches me in the chest. “It’s not that, you big jerk.” A heavy sigh leaves her chest and she lowers her gaze. “It’s just that this is the first time I’ve not been good at something. It’s the first time I’ve let someone see me fail and not beenscared.”
“I don’t scareyou?”
“No.” She lifts her heavy lashes, tears pooling in her eyes. “You’ve seen me at my worst, and you could’ve ended me right then. Anyone else would’ve, but you didn’t. You don’t scare me, Cary. You’ve seen the ugly, yet you’re still here.” Raising the back of her hand, she swipes it along her forehead and chuckles. “I’m not sure if that makes you a saint or reallystupid.”
Her honesty shocks me. It’s not in hernature.
“I’m no saint, Shy. I’m not the boy you kicked around in high school. That boy died when you…” My voice trails off, and I shake my head. “Anyway, I’m just a guy trying to make the best of a bad situation. You have to be here, and I have to deal with you being here. Being dicks to each other isn’t going to make the next three years pleasant for either ofus.”
“Agreed, but I still don’t understand why you did all of this.” She motions around the empty arena. “You say you’re no saint, but I’m no angel either. So, where does that leaveus?”
I’ve asked myself the same question at least a dozen times since bringing her here. I can’t forgive her for what she did to me. The hate I’ve carried with me is too deeply imprinted to forgive and forget. However, the twisted need I have to play with her emotions makes me no better thanher.
So, if we’re both demented as hell, then her question is valid. Where does that leaveus?
