The look she gave him was like a punch to the throat—sharp, unexpected and painful as hell. “You didn’t ask.”
“Because I thought you could. You used to go skating all the time.”
“I only went when you took me. And that was a long time ago.”
Did she have to stress the word long that way? It’d only been a year, maybe two, since they’d gone skating together. He frowned, had a sinking sensation, as if the ice under his feet was melting. Or had it been three years?
He searched his memory, came up with a vision of Bree wrapped up in a puffy, bright purple coat, her cheeks pink as she beamed at him after making it around the entire rink without falling. Gerry and Carl had been there, too, along with Fay. Who had been pregnant with Elijah.
Which would make it over four years.
He grabbed the back of his head, pulled the hair there. Hard. “Then it really has been a while, huh?” His fault. Again. “I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it quickly. You were getting pretty good the last time. Come on,” he said, holding out his hands. “We’ll do a couple of loops together, like we used to.”
When she used to smile at him, instead of scowl. When she used to enjoy being with him. When she trusted him.
Her fingers stayed glued to the wall. “My ankles hurt.”
“It takes a little bit of time to get used to the skates.” He kept his hands out. “I was your age when I first learned to skate.”
“I thought you started when you were a little kid.”
What was eleven? A senior citizen? “I’d never been on the ice until Carl and Gerry took me and your aunt Fay skating one day.”
It’d been his first official outing with the Pettits. He’d been so excited to see his sister again. After their mother’s death and their father’s abandonment, he and Fay had been sent to different foster homes, had been separated for eight months. That first day with the Pettits, he’d been terrified he’d do something, say something that would make them not want him. That would keep him away from Fay forever.
“Papa Carl tried to teach me but I kept falling,” he continued, remembering how envious he’d been to see Fay gliding gracefully over the ice. “After two hours of falling on my butt, I was wet, freezing and sore. I hated it.”
Bree’s eyes widened. “You did?”
He nodded and finally lowered his arms. “Carl kept telling me I could do it. I didn’t believe him but I kept trying and I managed to skate a few feet without falling. Then a few feet more. By the end of the afternoon, I could make it across the rink.”
“You didn’t fall anymore?”
“I fall all the time,” he told her, wondering if she understood that he wasn’t just referring to on the ice but all his missteps with her as well. “Everyone does.”
Biting her lower lip, she stared at her skates. “Coach had us run, like, a million miles at practice.”
“I promise—” He held up a hand in pledge. “No running. Only skating.”
Bree raised her head in time for him to see one of her lengthy eye rolls. “I just mean I already exercised today.”
“And you’re too tired to skate?”
“No.”
He waited but no further explanation was forthcoming. “Breanne,” he said with a huff of exasperation, “what’s the problem?”
“Nothing.”
“Then let’s—”
“Except you only brought me here to make sure I exercised,” she said in a low rush. “And I did already.”
“That’s not why I brought you here.” Though he could admit to himself that had been part of the reason. Was that wrong, too? “I thought...” He frowned as he searched for the right words. “Skating helps me clear my head. When I’m on the ice, not practicing or playing a game but just skating, I can lose myself in the movement of my legs, the rush of speed, the sound of blades cutting the ice—”
“Like when I read a good book,” she said, as if he didn’t sound like an idiot. “I get lost in the story and forget everything else.”
“Exactly,” he said and damned if she didn’t smile shyly at him. He rubbed a hand over the sudden ache in his chest.
She turned, holding on to the wall with only one hand. “So it’s, like, your favorite thing to do?”
The memory of making love to Maddie slammed into him with enough force to almost knock him off his feet. All