Kane (Arizona Vengeance 8) - Page 70
“I don’t,” I whisper, the fear in my voice evident. So fucking scared as to what this all means.
I love Kane so much. With my entire being, yet I’m considering leaving him because I’m afraid of what I might be missing.
How fucked up is that?
“I did something,” I admit to Clarke, casting her a guilty side glance but letting my gaze drop again so I don’t see the censure in her eyes. “I applied for a paid travel job in Australia. It’s with an outback outfitting company, and they’d pay all my travel expenses, including shipping my van over, as well as fuel and food costs. It would be for an entire year.”
Clarke’s eyes go wide, her eyebrows rising. “Did you get it?”
“I haven’t heard anything yet.”
“Let’s assume you get the offer and you want to take it, what would Kane say about it?”
I take in a stuttering breath, smiling sadly as it comes out. “He’s my best friend. He loves me deeply. He’d tell me to go even if it would crush him. He wants to buy a house and he’s ready to start a life together, but he’d still tell me to go live my dreams.”
“So, are you willing to crush him?” she murmurs. “Even if he tells you it’s okay to go?”
And I have no choice but to tell the truth. “I don’t know.”CHAPTER 27KaneIt’s odd being in the arena when it’s virtually empty. We had a late afternoon practice today, but by six, most everyone had deserted the building. No one was going to work out after the practice, the food and retail stalls for tomorrow’s game were already prepped, and the front office staff were long gone to start their weekend. Even the janitorial staff was out of here since it was a non-game day.
We pass a few stragglers as I lead Mollie down into the bowels of the building, my fingers laced with hers.
“When are you going to tell me why we’re here?” Mollie asks for what might be about the tenth time since I told her I had a surprise for her.
“You’ll see when we get there,” I reply, which is the same reply I’ve given her every time. Patience has never been one of Mollie’s virtues.
On the bottom floor of the arena, which sits underground, there’s a hallway that goes around the entire rounded building perimeter. I take her past janitorial services, the electrical room, the family gathering room, the locker room, and then straight to the small tunnel that connects out onto the ice.
“Whoa,” she murmurs as we walk up to the swinging gate that would let us step directly onto the ice. She releases my hand, places her palms on top of the gate, and leans over. Mollie’s gaze sweeps the empty stadium, the seats, and the glistening rink before us. “This is so cool.”
“About to get cooler,” I reply as I reach down to pick up the two pairs of ice skates I’d placed there earlier. “Let’s get you out on the ice.”
She turns to me, eyes wide, glancing only briefly at the skates I’m holding up. “Really?”
“Really,” I reply with a laugh.
Mollie doesn’t know how to ice skate. It’s a running joke with us. I mean, she’s a southern California girl, so why would she have ever learned? During my time in college, there wasn’t time to teach her—not that she wanted to learn. But over the years, we’ve teased each other over the fact that my best friend doesn’t know how to ice skate. It’s inexcusable now.
We sit on the rubber matting to put on our skates. I help her up, then keep a strong hold on her arm and waist as I guide her over the tiny lip created by the swinging door and onto the ice.
Her legs immediately start to spread as she tries to figure out her balance. Being on ice is no different to me than walking on flat ground in tennis shoes, so I’m easily able to hold her steady. After a few pointers, I take her hands in mine. With me skating backward and her just holding on for the ride, I start to lead her around the rink.
The first lap around, she’s afraid to do much more than grip my hands. By the second, she dares to look around as we skate—commenting about how much bigger the arena looks when it’s empty, and how she’d love to get a look at the officials’ box sometime.
By the third lap, I have her moving her feet in tiny gliding motions.
On the fourth, I ask if she wants to try it herself, and because she’s always the adventurer, she nods enthusiastically. I gently release her, still facing her while I skate backward and watch as she goes all wobbly, but still manages to propel herself along with awkward steps.
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