Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
“Archer,” I whisper, looking over at him with my heart in my throat.
“I don’t want you spending the rest of your life afraid of something.”
“What if…” I lick my lips, swallowing hard. “What if I’m still terrible at it? What if I panic?”
“Then I’ll be right there to catch you,” he says without hesitation, lifting my hand to his lips. “Trust me, little bird. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
I hesitate for a split second before nodding. I’m not sure if I can do this, but for him? Well, there isn’t much I won’t try for him.
He kills the engine and hops out before circling around to open my door for me. His lips brush my forehead before he tucks me up against his side, leading me inside the rink.
I pause just over the threshold, looking around in surprise. “Why is it so empty?”
“A friend owns the place. I rented it for the day,” he murmurs.
I gape over at him, wide-eyed. “You rented the entire rink just to teach me to skate?”
“No.” He nods at the table set up in the very center of the ice. “I rented it to spend the day spoiling you. We’re going to eat first so you can get used to being on the ice again. And then I’ll teach you to skate.”
My heart flutters. This man… God, I don’t think there’s anyone else like him. There certainly isn’t another one who looks at me like he does, or who treats me like he does. What I want and need matters to him. I think maybe it always mattered.
I peek at him out of the corner of my eye as he leads me toward the opening that lets out onto the ice. My heart thumps unevenly against my ribcage. I shiver, clinging to his hand like he’s a lifeline.
“Breathe, Wren,” he murmurs. “Even if the ice were to crack beneath us, we wouldn’t fall through, okay? There’s a layer of insulation and heated concrete below us. No water.”
I’m not sure if it’s his reassurance that allows me to take that first step out onto the ice, if it’s his voice in my ear, or if it’s simply him. But I take it. My feet slip a little, but his don’t. He keeps me steady, holding onto me with a quiet confidence that bolsters mine.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, pride in his eyes as he meets my gaze. “Just stand here for a minute, and then we’ll walk out.”
I nod, breathing in the cold air of the rink. Breathing him in. His scent is soothing. The ice is familiar. Maybe I can do this.
“I’m ready.”
“You sure? We don’t have to rush.”
“I’m sure.” I give him a tiny smile. Honestly, it’s not as bad as I thought it would be. I’ve been around rinks and ice most of my life. It’s been a long time since I was brave enough to step out onto it myself, but the ice feels almost like home in a weird way.
Archer holds onto me, leading me step by step out to the center of the rink. His voice is a deep rumble in my ear, murmuring praise with every foot forward.
By the time we reach the table, I feel a little like I slayed a dragon.
He brushes my hair away from my face, pressing his lips to my cheek, before he helps me into my seat. I glance down at the table, my eyes catching on the single iris laid out beside my plate.
“How’d you know they’re my favorite?” I ask when he settles across from me, bringing the flower to my nose to inhale its soft scent.
“I know everything about you.”
“How?” I press, genuinely curious if he’ll spill his secrets for me this time.
He holds my gaze, hesitating. And then he shrugs. “Maybe I pay attention.” His throat works. “Maybe I’ve paid more attention than I should have.”
“How much more attention?” I ask.
“A lot.”
“Did you follow me?”
He swallows hard, hesitating a beat. “Do you want the truth or the comforting lie, Wren?” he finally asks. “Because once it’s out there, it changes things.”
“Or maybe it doesn’t,” I whisper.
Surprise flares in his eyes, like he never considered the possibility that I wouldn’t run screaming into the night.
“You know where I live, where I work. You know things about me that no one else does.” I shrug, twirling the flower between my fingers. “I know Micah didn’t tell you. I know you didn’t learn my favorite flower just by seeing me the few times I came around the arena. You didn’t just pick up how I like my eggs or my coffee or my favorite café from listening.”
“Shit,” he mutters.
“Did you watch me? Follow me?” I cock my head to the side, studying him. “For how long, Archer?”
“Since two weeks after Micah and Elodie’s wedding.”