Unloved: Chapter 54

“Ice skating?”

“Yep.” I grin up at Ro from where I’m kneeling with her foot shoved into a crappy rental skate. I almost full-body cringe just looking at the unsharpened blade. “It was one of your things that we didn’t do on our hooky day.”

“Kinda busy for a holiday,” Ro blurts out, eyes darting around at all the families skating around the community rink. Her cheeks flush. “I’m a little nervous. Maybe we could come back when I’ve practiced more in an empty rink.”

“Nope.” I pop the extra hard. “Look, it was either this or ‘dance on top of a bar’ from your bucket list. And all the bars open on Thanksgiving are gonna be sad and weird. I’d rather not put you on a bar top while divorced dad music plays on a loop and people are drowning their sorrows in beer.”

She giggles and my entire body lightens.

I grasp her hands, watching her weak little ankles wobble as she stands in front of me, still shorter than me but taller than every other girl here.

“I’m so tall and uncoordinated,” she moans, reading my thoughts easily. Her head tries to dip in embarrassment. “I’m gonna look like a baby giraffe.”

“Aww,” I coo, stepping backward onto the ice with her hands in mine as she treads slowly onto the already cut-up ice. “A very, cute giraffe, though.”

Ro stumbles two steps onto the ice, legs immediately sliding like she might slip into a split and rip her jeans. She cries out lightly before I’m looping my arms around her waist to get a better grip on her body.

Blowing a breath to push her messy curls out of her face, Ro angles a fierce look over her shoulder at me. I manage to maintain my demeanor.

“I thought you were some superstar hockey player.”

A laugh rips from me. “I thought getting on the ice would be easier than that.” I adjust my grip, hands digging a little harder into her waist. “I’m gonna let go of you—”

“Wait, no—”

Her tone is desperate, pulling easily at my heartstrings.

“Relax, princess.” I try to soothe her. “I’m going to get in front of you. You just need to stand up and I’m gonna pull you, okay?”

“Please don’t let me fall,” she says, real nerves making her words come out a little panicked. My stomach hollows, but I nod, schooling my features into a calm, neutral expression.

“I won’t,” I vow before releasing her carefully and moving in front of her. I grab her hands again, skates spreading a little wider. “Ready?”

“No,” she blurts, shaking her head rapidly. “But we should probably move away from the entrance.”

“Probably.” The truth is, I’d just stand here with her for as long as she needed. But my girl is fierce and determined in a way not many really know or appreciate.

I skate backward easily, pulling Ro toward the curve of the ice. Ro overcorrects and almost tips backward immediately. A few kids pass by us, struggling alongside their parents but going three times our speed easily. Ro eyes them precariously.

“I think I need one of those.”

Flicking my head over my shoulder, I bark out a laugh seeing the toddler holding on to a walker, making good progress across the ice toward his mom, who stands at the red line in figure skates.

“A walker?” I shake my head, hair flopping lazily into my eyes before I flip it back again. “Nah, you’ve got me. You’re fine. You’re getting better already.”

My words are confident and strong—but the truth is that she’s . We’re barely moving, the slowest people on the ice. And every time one of the little hockey shits skirts a little too close to Ro, she tenses and almost falls again. I’m tempted to check one of them into the boards, but they’re probably twelve and I’d easily get us kicked out.

A smile tugs the corner of my mouth. It might be worth it.

She makes a little more progress, but she keeps overcorrecting because she’s too scared.

“I think I should let go.”

“Please don’t.”

Her voice is desperately pleading. It hurts to hear. I grip her hands a little tighter. “I won’t. I promise, I won’t let go of you until you say I can.” Hesitating only slightly, I finally say, “But I think you need to fall. Safely.”

“Fall? That’s exactly what I want to do.”

“I know. But I think it’ll make you more confident. You fall once and see how it feels, and then you’re less scared to fall again. You might skate a little better.”

Her eyes are expressive pools of hazel, and as they fill with even more fear, I start to regret ever bringing her here.

“Can I try a different day?”

“Of course,” I say, happy to hold her and pull her around and around. We skate a little ways farther before Ro’s face hardens into a mask of determination.

“Okay, let me go. I’m gonna try it.”

My grin is uncontainable. I release her hands, hovering around Ro’s body as she wobbles like one of those inflatable tube men in front of a car dealership. Still, she manages to stay upright, pushing off only on her right foot, keeping the left one planted as she moves.

“I’m doing it!” Ro shouts, overly excited. Her head flips over her shoulder, like she’s making sure I’m watching her—before she loses her balance and crashes onto her butt on the ice.

And my goddamn stomach falls out of my ass—I speed over to her, stopping and kneeling at her side to check her over.

“Are you okay?”

She nods, eyes a little moony as she stares up at me. A deeper breath stutters out of me as I grab her hands and help her up.

“I did not like that,” I grumble under my breath, messing a hand through my hair.

“You told me to fall!” she says on an incredulous laugh.

I shake my head. “Because I’m an idiot. When will you learn to stop listening to me? I think it scared me more than you.”

She turns in my arms, petting my hair as we lean into the boards nearby. “I feel better, though. You were right. I’m not as scared anymore.”

My eyes flutter as I lean into her palm. “Yeah. Me either.”

The words feel heavier. Like we aren’t talking about skating anymore.

“All right, you ready?”

“To skate more?” Ro smiles—this time more genuine—and nods. “Yeah. I think I can do it holding your hand this time.”

I bite my lip, trying to resist leaning in to kiss her cheek, then realizing how that entire thought is. I lean forward and press my lips to her blushing cheek. “I wanna pull you around a little faster. Do you trust me?”

“Yeah.” She smiles like that question has made her happier than even the kiss.

I start slow, checking over my shoulder every now and then. It’s closer to dinnertime, so the rink is starting to clear a bit and there’s less traffic to maneuver around.

The speakers, which have been playing deep cuts of Christmas music—mostly indie covers—kick on Summer Camp’s “I Don’t Wanna Wait Til Christmas” as we pick up speed.

“You sure Sadie’s not working here still?” I ask with a teasing grin. Her roommate’s music taste has infiltrated my life, and not just through Ro, but through my obsessed hockey team captain. Her music is in our house, in our locker room, everywhere.

A small laugh bubbles out of Ro as she teeters and holds her balance while I take the curve quickly, backward crossovers helping me pick up more speed. They also seem to mesmerize my girlfriend, who watches my skates like I’m performing a magic trick.

“The music?” she asks. I nod and she only shrugs, bobbing her head to the music. “It wouldn’t surprise me if she’s engineered the entire rink to only play her music over the speaker system.”

“I’m not complaining. She has pretty good taste.”

“She does.” Ro’s face shifts slightly before she confesses, “I, um, told them. About us.”

My face falls before I can control my reaction, slowing to a stop against the boards. Ro rushes to apologize, which only makes my stomach turn over again.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve asked you first. I thought—”

“No,” I rush to say. “I’m glad you told them. This isn’t a secret. I want everyone to know we’re dating.”

No games. Just you and me, princess, being real.

A flush darkens Ro’s cheeks. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I grin for a moment. Before my mind is assaulted with every single time Bennett and Rhys—hell, even Sadie—have warned me away from her. My face falls, insecurity scrambling my words so it takes a bit longer to speak. “But, um… did they say anything? Were they mad? Or—I don’t know. What did they say?”

“They were happy for us.”

“Really?”

Now it’s Ro’s turn to furrow her brow, tone soft. “Why do you seem surprised by that?”

“It’s not that. It’s just… I think I’m a little anxious.”

“About?”

This is way too hard to say. I wish we were back home. The harsh fluorescents of the rink, the music—it all feels like the backdrop is too overwhelming to strip myself down for her. To be as vulnerable as I’m about to be.

“I know I have a certain ‘reputation,’ and that’s my fault,” I say, heart fully lodged in my throat. Even my voice sounds strained. Uncomfortable. My hands reach up to cover my face because I’m a little afraid I might fucking . “I don’t want it to be on you, that you have to explain why we’re together or for people to make fun of you for it—”

“Matt,” Ro says, stopping me and pulling on my hands. I let her reveal my face, biting my lip. “I really don’t give a fuck about your reputation. It’s stupid and completely baseless. All I care about is who you are with me. And with everyone around you. You’re a good person. The most emotionally intelligent person I think I’ve ever known.”

Every word she says settles in my soul, building something new around the soft, damaged parts of my heart that have felt unlovable for too long. Around the version of me at ten, fifteen, eighteen, , who watched his dad choose not to love him, who watched women take advantage of his desperation to be loved… who broke himself time and again.

I hear the words she doesn’t say, too:

“So I hate that you’re surprised that our friends are happy we are dating. Rhys and Sadie are thrilled; the rest of your teammates and friends will be, too.” Rosalie smiles up at me where we’ve stopped short of the exit. “I only have, like, two people to tell, but if it would show you how little I care what people think, I’ll wear a shirt with your face on it that says I’m Matt Fredderic’s Girlfriend.”

A chuckle breaks through my lips. “I think you’d probably look really good in that.”

“Mm-hmm,” she sighs, relaxing into my arms as I hug her. I don’t want to let go of her. “I bet you do.”

“I think my jersey would be better, though.”

“Deal,” she says. “Next home game, I’ll be in your jersey.”

My eyes sparkle with humor and delight. “Wanna go around again?”

“Sure,” she says, hands locking back onto mine. “But I wanna see you go faster, Twenty-Seven.”

The challenge thrills me and I take off, dragging Ro swiftly behind me until she’s a giggling, giddy mess.