“Not in some exhibition. Not . . .” He took a breath, then let it out swiftly. “Hell, Em. I don’t think I can handle getting on the ice again, knowing I can’t go back to the sport.”

The ice. He loved it with all his soul. I knew that. You only had to see him play to know it. The ice was a part of him, and it had been cut off without warning. I held his gaze, letting him see that I understood.

“If I told you I didn’t know how to skate, would you teach me?”

He blinked, but a genuine smile of shock pulled at his mouth. “What?”

“Would you teach me?” I repeated. “For fun? Would you be willing to do that if I said I was a sad excuse for a skater?”

The smile tilted and grew. “Hell, you’re good.”

“Good?”

“Don’t give me those innocent big blue eyes, Snoop.” He touched the edge of my jaw. “You know exactly what you’re doing, tempting me like that.”

“Is it working?” I took his big rough hand in mine. “Will you skate with me, Lucian?”

“Damn it,” he muttered, but he didn’t look upset. His green eyes sparked with some unnamed emotion. “All right, honey. I’ll take you skating. I’ll try that much. For you.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

Lucian

Ice had a scent, crisply metallic and pure. My love of that scent was so ingrained that anytime I caught a whiff of it, my heart rate would immediately kick up, and blood pumped through my veins with greater purpose. But a rink? That mix of ice and damp rubber, with a faint lingering of chlorine under it all? That was the scent of home. My religion.

Or it had been.

I caught a lungful of it as I led Emma into the main hall of the ice rink, and for the first time in my life, my insides lurched sickly, sweat blooming on my skin at the scent of ice. My heart rate kicked up, yes, but this wasn’t the steady pulse of excitement. It threatened to pound that hurting organ right out of my chest.

My steps slowed to a painful halt, the space around me seeming to both close in and expand outward in a sickening sway. Emma’s hand found mine, and she held on. Nothing more than that. Just stood by my side and held on. I grimaced, shaking and panting, my skin ice cold and fever hot.

I could only be thankful that we’d booked the place afterhours so we were alone. The thought of anyone else seeing me like this filled my mouth with a sour taste, and I swallowed convulsively.

“Let’s sit down for a minute,” Emma said, gently leading me along.

My clammy hand gripped her like an anchor even as shame swamped my system. I didn’t want her seeing me this way either. But there was no help for it.

“I’ll be . . . fine.”

“I know you will.” She eased me down onto a long wooden bench before sitting next to me, her hand never letting mine go.

Closing my eyes, I concentrated on breathing. In. Out. In. Out. I could do this. This was easy. A cakewalk. What the fuck did cakewalk even mean?

The thought clung to the edges of my mind like buttercream, and I focused on that instead. Of cakes and creams, gâteaux and tartes au citron. And slowly my racing heart slowed to an acceptable pace. After agonizing minutes, I could breathe without struggle.

“This pisses me off,” I ground out.

Emma’s thumb caressed my knuckles. “What does?”

I glanced over. She held my gaze with her steady blue eyes, a calm sea in the center of my storm. I forced myself to relax my grip on her. “Panicking over the simple sight of a rink. Places like this used to be my home. The embodiment of everything that was right in the world.”

Everything I’d lost. I knew it. She knew it.

“When did you first learn to skate?”

Her softly spoken question startled me; I’d expected her to try to comfort me with platitudes. I turned toward the set of doors leading to the ice. “Seven. I wanted to fly.” Longing and grief punched through me. “It was the closest I could come to it.”

Shit. I wasn’t going to cry. I wasn’t going to do it. I blinked rapidly and breathed. Just breathe, Oz.

Emma pressed her cheek to my shoulder. “Let’s fly, Lucian. Just you and me.”

Fly. With her.

Heart clenching, I dipped my head and kissed the top of hers. “All right, honeybee. I’ll take you flying.”

Ordinarily, I could have laced up my skates with my eyes closed. Today, however, my fingers shook and fumbled with the strings as I thought of going out there. But I could deal. Emma wanted to skate.

Finishing up, I knelt at her feet, where she was putting on her skates. Unlike me, she had asked for a pair of figure skates.

“Let me see,” I said, checking her lacings to make sure they were tight enough.

I redid one, giving her a look of reproach but tempering it with a small smile. Because she was damn cute with her white skates and a red wool beanie on her head.

“Better, Brick?” she asked, leaning down to watch.

I caught her sweet mouth with a kiss, lingering there because she tasted like heaven and felt even better. “Perfect, Snoop.”

My hands smoothed up her thighs. She wore jeans in deference to the cold rink. I missed her floaty skirts and told her so.

Her eyes crinkled in amusement. “You just want to stick your hands under them.”

“Guilty.” I leaned in to nuzzle between her breasts, my hands snaking beneath her light sweater to find the silky skin of her belly. “Pretty sure I’m addicted.”

She hummed in pleasure as I lightly kissed my way around her breasts. Her fingers carded through my hair, then gently halted my progress. When I looked up, she met my gaze with solemn eyes that told me all the stalling wasn’t fooling her. “You ready now?”

No. “Yeah.”

I stood, instantly feeling the change in my body, the added height of the skates, the way muscle memory adjusted to accommodate balancing on thin blades. Everything in me woke up. My focus narrowed onto Emma.

I held my hand out, and she took it, letting me haul her upright.

Smiling, she looked me over. “You’re a veritable tree in those skates.”

“You should have seen me in full gear.”

Her lips twitched. “Man mountain, huh?”

“Pretty much.” I held on to her hand firmly and glanced down at her feet. New skaters often let their ankles tilt, throwing them off balance and setting them up for an injury. But she held hers straight and strong. A good sign. “Let’s do this.”