whipped around to make sure he hadn’t said that last bit aloud. He scrounged up the courage to explain why he’d abandoned them. “Chaney, if I had stayed, my dad was going to force me to give up skating.” And, by default, her.
“From what you’ve said, it sounds like you did that, anyway.”
Yeah. He did. He breathed deep, regret welling up. He stared at the hand that still rested on his arm. Was God giving them a second chance? “After Mom died, I lost it, Chaney. Lost the will to keep bucking my dad.”
“He didn’t like you skating, did he?”
“No. He abhorred it. Constantly ridiculed me while Mom was alive, but afterward…” He shook his head, the memory of their last fight swirling around his brain in slow motion. “Afterward, he absolutely forbade it. His criticism and our constant fighting over it took all the joy out of skating.”
“I’m sorry he died before you had a chance to reconcile, Conner. Maybe you both could have found a certain measure of peace together.”
“Yeah. Me, too.” He hadn’t thought so when he’d first rolled into town, but truly, he was now.
“So let’s just say you hadn’t left Evergreen Peak.” Chaney’s gaze flitted to the silver tree, and then back to him, as if she were considering her words. “That doesn’t mean that things still would have gone according to our plans.”
“What do you mean?”
“God determines our steps, Conner. Maybe you needed a season away from the rink.” Dark brows arched high on her smooth forehead, and her lips curved in a smile, but more from sorrow than humor. “Who knows? Maybe you needed time away from me.”
“Ha!” He scoffed and stretched out his arm to tug her closer until she snuggled against his side. He settled his chin on her head, the silky and sweet smelling strands of hair tickling his cheek and soothing his agitation. “Not a chance. Thinking of you during all those deployments overseas was the only way I kept my sanity.”
It was her turn to scoff.
With his other hand, he dug out his wallet and flicked it open, revealing a worn-out, faded picture of them from their last competition, Chaney’s hand pressed against his heart, her head angled up towards him. Adoring, her face alive with joy and hope and laughter.
He’d stolen it all from her.
“Oh.” Chaney’s hand covered her mouth. “I remember this one. It’s the last one your mother took.”
“Yeah.” He flipped the wallet closed and slid it back in his pocket. “The memories of you and me, of us, kept me out of some pretty dark places.” Places and spaces some of his friends had crawled into, and never managed to come out of.
She gulped and leaned back into his side, hiding her expression from his view. Her palm reached up to cover his heart, just like in the picture. Could she feel his pulse thundering under her gentle touch?
“I’m just saying, Conner, if your father didn’t instigate you leaving, something else would have, I’m quite sure. But if the smile lighting your face when you’re on the ice helping my students with recital practice is any indication, it looks like you might have rediscovered your joy.” Her voice was muffled against his shirt.
Conner sucked in a breath. He had reclaimed his joy, hadn’t he? All because of Chaney. Being with her again. On the ice, off the ice, it didn’t make any difference. He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm.
She pulled back slightly, only as far as his arm allowed, silky strands of her hair sticking to the stubble on his jaw. Enough that he glimpsed the questions in her darkened irises, the rounding of her bow-shaped mouth, and the rapid pulsing along her smooth, creamy throat. “Conner?”
7
Conner’s face drifted just inches from hers, his expression earnest, seeking, as he slid some of her hair back behind an ear. “Do you believe in second chances, Chaney?” His voice rumbled near, tickling the bare skin on her neck.
Was he
“From what you’ve said, it sounds like you did that, anyway.”
Yeah. He did. He breathed deep, regret welling up. He stared at the hand that still rested on his arm. Was God giving them a second chance? “After Mom died, I lost it, Chaney. Lost the will to keep bucking my dad.”
“He didn’t like you skating, did he?”
“No. He abhorred it. Constantly ridiculed me while Mom was alive, but afterward…” He shook his head, the memory of their last fight swirling around his brain in slow motion. “Afterward, he absolutely forbade it. His criticism and our constant fighting over it took all the joy out of skating.”
“I’m sorry he died before you had a chance to reconcile, Conner. Maybe you both could have found a certain measure of peace together.”
“Yeah. Me, too.” He hadn’t thought so when he’d first rolled into town, but truly, he was now.
“So let’s just say you hadn’t left Evergreen Peak.” Chaney’s gaze flitted to the silver tree, and then back to him, as if she were considering her words. “That doesn’t mean that things still would have gone according to our plans.”
“What do you mean?”
“God determines our steps, Conner. Maybe you needed a season away from the rink.” Dark brows arched high on her smooth forehead, and her lips curved in a smile, but more from sorrow than humor. “Who knows? Maybe you needed time away from me.”
“Ha!” He scoffed and stretched out his arm to tug her closer until she snuggled against his side. He settled his chin on her head, the silky and sweet smelling strands of hair tickling his cheek and soothing his agitation. “Not a chance. Thinking of you during all those deployments overseas was the only way I kept my sanity.”
It was her turn to scoff.
With his other hand, he dug out his wallet and flicked it open, revealing a worn-out, faded picture of them from their last competition, Chaney’s hand pressed against his heart, her head angled up towards him. Adoring, her face alive with joy and hope and laughter.
He’d stolen it all from her.
“Oh.” Chaney’s hand covered her mouth. “I remember this one. It’s the last one your mother took.”
“Yeah.” He flipped the wallet closed and slid it back in his pocket. “The memories of you and me, of us, kept me out of some pretty dark places.” Places and spaces some of his friends had crawled into, and never managed to come out of.
She gulped and leaned back into his side, hiding her expression from his view. Her palm reached up to cover his heart, just like in the picture. Could she feel his pulse thundering under her gentle touch?
“I’m just saying, Conner, if your father didn’t instigate you leaving, something else would have, I’m quite sure. But if the smile lighting your face when you’re on the ice helping my students with recital practice is any indication, it looks like you might have rediscovered your joy.” Her voice was muffled against his shirt.
Conner sucked in a breath. He had reclaimed his joy, hadn’t he? All because of Chaney. Being with her again. On the ice, off the ice, it didn’t make any difference. He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm.
She pulled back slightly, only as far as his arm allowed, silky strands of her hair sticking to the stubble on his jaw. Enough that he glimpsed the questions in her darkened irises, the rounding of her bow-shaped mouth, and the rapid pulsing along her smooth, creamy throat. “Conner?”
7
Conner’s face drifted just inches from hers, his expression earnest, seeking, as he slid some of her hair back behind an ear. “Do you believe in second chances, Chaney?” His voice rumbled near, tickling the bare skin on her neck.
Was he
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