Worth The Wait

20|𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐓𝚮 𝐓𝚮𝚬 𝐖𝚨𝐈𝐓

𝐋𝐔𝐂IE 𝐁𝐀𝐒I𝐋𝐋E

The moment my blade caught the edge of the ice, I knew I was going down.

My breath caught in my throat as my balance wavered, gravity yanking me backward before I had a chance to correct it. The ice rushed up to meet me, cold and unforgiving, but before I could brace for impact, strong hands caught my waist.

River.

I crashed into him instead, his grip firm as he steadied me, keeping me from hitting the ice. My hands instinctively fisted the fabric of his shirt, holding on as my heart slammed against my ribs. We stayed like that—frozen in place, his hands burning through the thin fabric of my training top, his breath warm against my temple.

Too close. Too steady. Too much.

I swallowed hard, willing my pulse to slow, but it was impossible when his fingers flexed slightly, like he was making sure I was really okay before letting go. My stomach flipped, and for a second—just one irrational, dangerous second—I didn't want him to move away.

"Are you—" His voice was lower than usual, rough around the edges. He cleared his throat. "You okay?"

I forced myself to nod, but I didn't step back. Neither did he. The air between us tightened, something unspoken threading through the space where our bodies almost touched. My fingers twitched against his shirt before I realized I was still holding onto him. I let go, but he didn't.

His hands lingered. Just long enough to make me wonder if he even realized it.

I swallowed again, my throat dry. "You can let go now."

His jaw tensed, but after a beat, his hands dropped away, leaving a ghost of warmth where they had been. I hated how my body missed it immediately.

"You should be more careful." His voice was gruff, but there was something else there, something I couldn't pin down.

I scoffed, needing to break whatever spell had fallen over us. "Maybe you should work on your footwork instead of worrying about me."

The teasing jab was meant to reset things, to pull us back into familiar, safe territory. But instead of rolling his eyes or throwing a cocky remark back at me, River just stared. His gaze flicked over my face, searching for something. And whatever he found made his expression darken in a way I didn't understand.

A shiver crawled down my spine. Not from the cold.

"I'm serious, Lucie," he said, his voice softer now, but no less intense. "You scared me for a second."

My heart lurched, caught between the weight of his words and the way he was looking at me—like I mattered. Like I was something more than just his skating partner.

I exhaled sharply, stepping back, creating space between us that I suddenly, desperately needed. "I'm fine," I said, too fast, too breathless. "Let's just keep going."

His eyes flickered, something unreadable passing through them, but he didn't push. He gave a short nod, rolling his shoulders before gliding backward, putting distance between us.

I turned away, forcing my focus back on the ice, on my form, on anything but the way my skin still tingled where he had touched me. I could still feel the imprint of his hands on my waist, the way they had fit there so easily, like he belonged in that space.

No. I shook the thought away before it could take root. River Prescott didn't belong anywhere near me—not like that.

But then practice continued, and I couldn't ignore him. His presence felt heavier, his gaze lingering even when I wasn't looking. Every time he lifted me, every time his hands found my waist, my pulse betrayed me, hammering against my ribs with a force I couldn't deny.