#jackson evers

It’s more fun than he imagined, though, watching his best friend and her growing family build new holiday traditions. Jack is all smiles and giggles when Wes lifts him up and spins on the blades of his skates, and he blows a raspberry at Tim over his mother’s shoulder when she peppers his tiny face with kisses.

Tim returns the silly face, then turns around, sizing up the rest of the venue. Angela had promised him apple cider donuts, a treat in exchange for being part of the family for an afternoon, but he’s hoping for something with a little more substance than sugar.

What he sees instead is nearly enough to knock him over the wall, sprawling onto the ice.

Of all the places in all of LA, what are the odds …

Lucy Chen is walking back toward the rink, holding one giant chocolate chip cookie in each hand. She veers to the side before she sees Tim, but he watches as she passes the second cookie to Jackson, who’s sitting on a wooden bench with his legs stretched out in front of him. Lucy says something to Jackson, pointing at the concession stand; as soon as he follows her gaze, he starts unlacing his skates. She laughs at whatever he says next, but rolls her eyes as he gets up and goes over there himself.

Lucy watches Jackson for a moment longer, then grimaces in his direction and shoves her feet back into her own skates. She stumbles to the edge of the rink, but as soon as she reaches the ice, she starts moving in smooth glides.

Tim waits for her to be close enough to hear him before he opens his mouth.

“Hey, Chen!” She turns her head in his direction, her surprise obvious when she sees him. “You sure those are tied tight enough? Can’t have you breaking an ankle; we’re already stretched thin enough at work.”

“Tim!” She grins, skating toward the wall he’s leaning against. “What’re you doing here?” Her face flushes even pinker than the chill has already turned it and she starts stammering. “Not that … I mean … it’s not a priva … it’s a public rink, you can … I just didn’t know you …"

“I’m not.” He puts her out of her misery, pulling one hand out of his pocket long enough to point across the rink. “But Angela is, and I’m on Uncle Duty today. What about you, didn’t know you skated?”

“Here and there.” She looks down. “I try to come a few times a year. It’s fun.”

“Yeah, looks like Jack is enjoying himself.” He’s talking about Angela’s kid, but Lucy looks past him to the concession booth. Tim turns to glance, and sees Jackson standing off to the side, deep in conversation with the cashier.

“He’ll be over there all afternoon, I’m sure. All I did was tell him the attendant guy looked like his type. Now I guess I’m on my own for the rink today.” She sighs.

“Hey, I’m sure Angela would loop around with you a few times. Looks like Wes has taken charge of the baby anyway.”

“Maybe,” Lucy says, but she makes no effort to move. “You’re not on the ice?”

“Absolutely not. I’m here to hang out with Jack when he needs a nap, give mom and dad a break.”

“Not even for a few minutes?”

“Not unless you want to see an ambulance today.”

“Well,” Lucy laughs. “I guess it’s nice to see a man who knows his limits.”

“Believe it or not, I do have a few of them.”

“I’d never have guessed.”

The conversation flows easily from there, nephews and dogs and Tim’s sister and the best cheesesteak Lucy has ever eaten. Before either of them realize, it’s been almost 40 minutes and the intercom is announcing the end of skate for people with an hourly pass. Tim raises an eyebrow, and Lucy holds up her wrist, showing him an all day wristband.

“But I should probably go make use of it, at least for a few minutes.” Tim nods, and she skates off. Immediately, he’s a little colder again, which he decides is ridiculous as soon as he registers the feeling. He’s cold because it’s freezing in here, not because Lucy was somehow keeping him warm.

The solitude doesn’t last long, though. While Lucy is breezing her way through speedy laps of the inner rink, Wesley skates over to Tim. Jack is slumped against one of his shoulders, arms looped loosely around his dad’s neck.

“Hey, can you take him?” Tim extends an arm and they pass Jack over the wall. “Thanks. He’s out cold, and my arm is getting sore. I think Angela left the stroller over by the lockers.

“No problem. We’ll be here.”

He shifts Jack around, until he’s resting against the shoulder that’s never seen a bullet wound. The kid hardly moves, other than to burrow his face deeper into Tim’s neck. He rubs his back gently with his free hand, tucking it up the bottom of his little puffer jacket to keep his fingers warm.

Tim keeps watching the skaters. Somehow, his gaze always finds its way back to Lucy. She’s slowed down a little bit, but now she’s weaving back and forth, zipping between imaginary cones in her path. The movement are precise, careful and refined in a way that tells Tim ‘a few times a year’ might have been underselling her experience.

Then she starts spinning. She makes it look easy, effortless loops that keep her moving forward even as she turns round and round. It’s not a tight spiral, like he’d see on the Olympics, but somehow this is more impressive. She keeps twirling, never coming close to hitting any of the other skaters. When she comes closer to the edge of the ice, Tim notices how wind-bitten her skin has become, even more than it was earlier.

All at once, he looks between the lockers and concessions, and makes a decision.

After all, his arm is getting kind of tired. And Jack would probably be more comfortable sitting down.

He finds the stroller first, with the familiar elephant-print diaper bag shoved in the bottom, and gets Jack situated. The straps are more confusing than he’d anticipated, but he clicks every buckle into a latch and figures that it’s close enough.

Then he pushes Jack toward the concessions, where he takes up a position in the line on the side opposite where Officer West is still chatting up the second cashier. He doesn’t seem to notice Tim, as he orders and balances two paper cups between his hands and the stroller handle.

When he gets back to his spot along the wall, he starts watching for Lucy to come around again.

“Lucy!” This time, he calls her first name, and she skids to a stop. “Need a break? You look … cold.” He sticks one of the cups out toward her. “Uh, it’s cocoa.”

“Oh.” She shivers. “I guess I didn’t realize it until I stopped moving, but sure. It’s chilly out there.”

Tim points at one of the benches and she follows him over. When she sits down, she leaves the skates on, but unties the bows at the top.

Again, it’s easy to talk to Lucy, even though they’re not at work. She ends up with one foot propped on the front of the stroller, rocking it back and forth gently while Jack sleeps. They talk about her career and his, where he’s been and where she wants to go. He teases her with the suggestion of an LAPD skating division, a promotion with the promise of her leadership on the ice.

“Please, I’d never win a pursuit. It’s way more fun to do the twirly stuff,” she says, laughing along with him.

“Well it sure looked like you were good at it.”

“I was having fun.” Again, he notices how she undersells herself.

“You can enjoy things you’re good at.” He pushes. This time, when her face turns pink, he doesn’t think it’s anything to do with the cold.

At some point, Angela slides the stroller away from them, with a quiet hello for Lucy before she and Wesley disappear. Tim doesn’t think anything of it, until he realizes that the sun is dropping low in the sky and the rink is closing for the night.

“Well,” he stands up, and Lucy trades her skates for a pair of brown leather boots. “I rode with Agnela and …" He looks around. “I don’t see her, or Wesley.”

They both slides their phones out of their pockets. He’s got a waiting message from his friend, almost two hours old.

Yes, we left you behind. Looked like you were doing something more important than third-wheeling with my kid.

She's included a string of emojis that Tim can’t be bothered to decipher.

“Or, I got ditched.” He laughs dryly, and Lucy looks up.

“So did I. Jackson’s cashier asked him for coffee. Apparently selling it all day wasn’t enough.” She rolls her eyes. “At least I have the car keys.”

Tim barely resists a heavy sigh. He hates having to ask for favors, but …

“Think I could bother you for a lift?”

“Hmmm …" Lucy screws her face up, eyes shining mirthfully. “I dunno … what’s in it for me?”

“Let’s see … Jackson got coffee with a stranger, I suppose I can do better than that, given our established relationship. Can I buy you dinner?”

“Careful, Tim,” she grins at him. “A girl hears an offer like that, and she’s liable to think it’s a date.”

“And what if it is?” He’s on thin ice now, but he doesn’t need to think long to realize that if he’s going to fall anywhere, he wants it to be right here. Somehow he’s spent most of an afternoon talking to Lucy, on his personal time, and all he wants to do is keep it going for longer.

Hopefully, starting with dinner.

“If it is, then I think you should actually ask me.”

“Fine.” This time, he does sigh, long-suffering, like she’s asking the world of him. “Lucy, can I take you out for dinner? As a date?”