His face is uncertain, and I beam, hummingbirds taking flight in my stomach. His hand slides from my arm to my fingers, and I hold on tight.

“I’ve missed you,” I say.

“I wasn’t sure. Vada told me what happened,” he confesses and shakes his head. “I told her I wasn’t going to give up on you, but I realized I needed to let you decide that.”

I spin around so I’m backward and he’s forward, and with my hands to his broad chest, I slow him. “I needed a few days,” I say once he’s stopped and I can look him in the eyes. “But I’m not done with you, and I’m not walking away from us. I’m not sure how I feel about what happened, but I don’t regret you or the things we’ve done.”

He releases a long breath, his face awash with relief. His lips spread into a hopeful smile. “You don’t?”

Using my toe pick as leverage, I press myself up, kissing him. His arms immediately circle my waist, slipping along my spandex jacket. Kissing while wearing spandex is kind of alarming, but in a very, very good way. His hands slide along the edge of where my jacket meets my pants, lifting it slightly, allowing a chilly breeze to hit my bare skin. That’s enough to wake me from my Micah-tastes-like-everything-delicious trance, and I gently push him away, causing him to slide back on his blades. I grin at his disappointed pout.

“Later, hockey player. I’ve got thirty minutes of ice time and a skating fantasy to act out.”

He groans theatrically but is quick to understand, catching up with me halfway around the rink. We spend the next half hour kissing and spinning and gliding together and apart. I make him chase me, and I make it worth his time when he catches me. He makes me laugh until my sides ache and my heart feels like it’s going to burst.

It’s the best moment of my entire life, and I’m not one bit sorry about it.

The following morning, Micah and Cash surprise me with doughnuts and an offer to run together. We’re finishing up, slowing to a walk, when I see Mrs. Sanderson out in her drive, shoveling snow. I try to ignore her, but she’s watching me. In fact, when I glance over out of the corner of my eye, she’s dropped all pretense and is openly staring at us.

“Is Cash even tired?” I ask, panting slightly, avoiding looking her way.

Micah laughs. “Not really. He’ll definitely nap after this, but I’ve taken him along for bike rides where I’ve gone fifteen miles and he doesn’t even bat an eye.”

“I wonder if he was a sled dog in another life.”

“I’ve actually thought about training him to sled race. Just for fun.”