Page 41 of Break my Heart
My defenses, the ones I’ve carefully held in place since Nathan, reluctantly shift. Even if it’s slightly.
“They’re lucky to have you,” I say softly.
His gaze turns serious as his voice dips. “Nah. I’m the lucky one. They mean everything to me.”
And just like that, the walls I’ve built around myself crack even further.
Before I can react, we stop in front of the ice arena, and I blink in surprise. “Are we here to skate?”
He flashes that grin again, the one that makes it hard to stay detached. “Nope.”
My face scrunches in confusion. “We’re not?”
Instead of answering, he pulls me toward the building, leading me inside like he owns the place. Which, given how people treat him around here, maybe he does. It takes me a moment to realize that we’ve been holding hands since leaving the Roasted Bean.
No wonder people were staring.
Inside, the scent of the rink hits me—cold, crisp, and familiar. It’s comforting in a way I can’t quite explain, even though I’m no longer competing. The ice has always been a refuge, and I guess, in some way, it still is.
Hayes walks beside me as we head deeper into the arena, exchanging casual greetings with the employees like they’re old friends.
“Hey, Tony!” Hayes calls to one of the custodians, who waves back from the concession stand. “How’s the family?”
“Doing well! I’m taking the wife on vacation next week,” the older man replies with a grin.
“I’m jealous. I could really use one of those,” Hayes responds easily, still leading me forward.
I give him a sideways glance, baffled by how he manages to knock me off balance at every turn. “Are you on a first-name basis with everyone around here?”
“Most of them. Tony’s wife bakes banana bread and usually sends a few loaves my way. Best damn stuff I’ve ever had. They run an animal shelter, and every year, the Wildcats do a fundraiser for them, and then we spend a weekend in the spring helping with cleanup and repairs. I love the clinics for kids, but the ones for animals hold a special place in my heart.”
Everything he just admitted swirls through my head before reluctantly settling deep inside me.
I grind to a halt and stare at him. “I’m sorry. Who exactly are you?”
He stops too, turning to face me, his expression half amused, half serious. “What do you mean?”
“Ever since I started here, all I’ve heard is that you’re this huge player who lives for parties. That’s it. But now, you’re telling me you help out at animal shelters and know the life story of everyone at the rink.”
He lifts a brow, his grin turning a bit more wicked. “Well, it’s true. I do like to party. But there’s more to me than that. I just don’t feel the need to talk about it with every person I meet.”
I blink, trying to wrap my head around this new version of Hayes. It’s impossible not to state the obvious. “But you’re telling me.”
“Maybe that’s because I want you to know who I really am.”
His earnest explanation sends a shiver racing down my spine. I don’t know if it’s the chill in the air, but standing here with him suddenly feels like teetering on the precipice of something I have no idea if I’m ready for.
When he reaches the doors to the rink, he pulls the handle open and extends his arm in invitation. “Are you coming or what?”
His voice yanks me back to the present as I hustle toward him. When I’m once again within striking distance, he snags my fingers, and instead of leading me toward the locker rooms, he heads to the stands, pulling me up the concrete stairs to the very top row. Uncertain what we’re doing, I settle beside him and survey the quiet arena below.
“Looks different from up here, doesn’t it?”
I shift on the hard plastic and stare at the pristine sheet of ice below.
He’s right. It does look different from this vantage point.
As if it’s miles and miles away.