**A Heart-to-Heart, Son**
On the final day of the Christmas break, a group of mates decided to hit the ice rink. The biting cold had eased slightly, and the low winter sun—though blinding—hinted at warmer days ahead. The daylight was stretching a little longer each evening.
Oliver and Jake weren’t the only ones hoping to shed the festive pounds. The rink was packed. The crisp air was invigorating, the sun shone brightly, and cheery tunes blasted from the speakers.
Once on the ice, Oliver and Jake picked up speed, weaving around slower skaters. Their sharp blades glided effortlessly over the rough ice. It was their first visit this winter—earlier, heavy snow had left the rink uncleared, followed by a thaw that turned the ice to slush. Only after Christmas had it frozen solid again.
After a couple of warm-up laps, the lads began fooling around. Jake spotted a girl in a white jacket and a matching knitted bobble hat. She clung to the barrier, wobbling awkwardly—clearly a first-timer.
Her stiff legs splayed in all directions, ankles buckling. If not for her death grip on the railing, she’d have been flat on her back long ago. Jake stifled a laugh, feeling both amused and sorry for her.
Glancing over, he saw Oliver flirting with a group of girls. Jake skated to the edge.
“Need a hand? It’s not so hard once you know the basics.”
Before she could answer, her right foot slid forward, nearly sending her backwards. Jake caught her just in time.
“Cheers,” she murmured.
Her voice sent a shiver down his spine. His heart hammered in his chest, oddly giddy.
“Let go of the railing—you’ll never learn otherwise. Hold onto me.” He offered his hand.
“I’m scared,” she squeaked.
“Falling’s part of it, but I’ll keep you steady. Come on.”
She clutched his arm but kept one hand on the barrier.
“That’s it,” Jake encouraged. “Now push off one foot and glide on the other. Don’t point your toes! Good. Bring your feet together. Now the other foot…”
She managed a few tentative steps, finally releasing the railing. It wasn’t exactly skating, but Jake showered her with praise.
“Brilliant! Bend your knees a bit. Now try gliding instead of stepping.”
Her eyes sparkled with delight. Her laughter sent another rush through Jake, his skin tingling.
She pushed off too boldly, tripped, and would have face-planted if Jake hadn’t steadied her.
“Easy does it.”
They inched along the barrier.
“I can’t go on! My legs are jelly,” she groaned.
“First time’s always rough. You’ll ache tomorrow. But you did great. I’m Jake, by the way.” He stole glances at her profile—rosy cheeks, thick lashes, parted lips. A warm haze settled in his chest.
“Emily,” she said.
Her name, sweet as summer, made his head spin.
She leaned heavily on his arm, exhausted. He wanted to walk like this forever, feeling her weight, hearing her breath, watching the little clouds of warmth escape her lips…
At the changing room, she collapsed onto a bench.
“Hand me your ticket—I’ll fetch your boots.”
She passed it over. “Help with the skates?” he offered.
Her blue eyes locked onto his, sending another jolt through him.
“I’ve got it.” She bent to untie them.
Jake stood frozen, unable to look away.
“There you are!” Oliver’s voice cut in. “Lost you. How’d it go?”
“Smashing for a first try,” Jake said brightly. “This is Oliver. And Emily.”
“Pretty,” Oliver whispered, winking. “Skating more?”
“Go ahead. I’ll walk Emily out.”
“You don’t have to—” she began.
“He doesn’t want to leave you,” Oliver teased.
“I don’t,” Jake admitted. “Fancy a coffee? Warm up with a hot chocolate?”
Without skates, she seemed tiny. Her smile sent his heart into his throat.
“Alright.” He glanced at Oliver. “Coming?”
“Skating there, are you?” Oliver smirked.
Flushing, Jake dashed for his shoes.
They left the park, walking a few streets to a cosy café, its tables adorned with sprigs of holly. Emily winced as she sat.
“Hurt yourself?” Jake asked.
“My leg. Took a tumble.”
He nodded—clearly a bruised backside.
“Ice would help,” he said.
“Pretty sure I’ve had enough ice today.” They laughed.
“Three days, tops. Best way to fix it? More practice. Next weekend?”
In the dim light, Emily looked even lovelier.
“Was meant to go with my mate, but she’s ill…”
They warmed up quickly—thanks to the coffee, the stolen glances, and the spark between them.
They met most evenings, and weekends saw Jake teaching Emily to skate properly.
“When do we meet this girl?” his mum asked one night. “Who is she?”
“Saturday. Don’t fuss—just a normal Sunday roast.”
“Saturday it is,” she mused.
Emily fidgeted outside Jake’s house.
“Suppose they hate me?”
“They’ll adore you. I’m here.” He led her inside.
His mum greeted them warmly. Over tea, the chatter flowed easily—though Emily kept her eyes down until meeting his dad’s steady gaze. She flushed.
“Where do you live? Study?” he asked.
“English Lit at uni. Eighteen months left. Mum’s a teacher—got me into books.”
His dad’s expression shifted.
“Teaching too?”
“She teaches in York. I want to be a journalist.”
His dad grew quiet, lost in thought.
“Your dad hates me,” Emily muttered outside later.
“Quite the opposite. Couldn’t take his eyes off you—I was jealous.”
Back home, his dad waited in the kitchen, door shut.
“Talk, son.”
His grave tone unsettled Jake.
“She looks just like her mum. Rare coincidence. When I was your age, I was sent to York for work.” He took a breath. “You’re grown—understand this. Her mother was lovely, like your Emily. Just out of uni, teaching. We met… I was smitten. Lost my head.”
“Don’t tell me she’s my sister,” Jake snapped. “I love her. That won’t change.”
“Hear me out. I swore I’d visit again—but I was married. Your mum, you… three years old. I tried to forget her. How old is Emily? When’s her birthday? Is she close with her dad?”
Jake reeled. He wanted to howl, to wake from this nightmare.
“Mum told her dad died in a crash when she was two,” he said slowly. “She’s twenty. Sixth of July.”
“Twenty. You’re twenty-five. I was there in August. Not her father.” He exhaled. “Thank God. Thought we’d have a right mess. She’s in halls? Ask her mum’s name.”
“Annie Williams.”
His dad nodded.
“Forget this. Don’t tell Emily—or your mum.”
“If she’d been my sister, could I have walked away?”
“Doesn’t matter now. You’re lucky.”
“What if her mum recognises you at the wedding?”
“Twenty-two years change a man. She’s sharp—won’t air old laundry.”
“You cheated. Nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“Life’s long, son. I’ve always loved your mum. But back then… Learn from my mistakes. If you can.”
“Sorry, Dad.”
A pat on the shoulder, then silence.
Jake sat alone, replaying it. Would he have survived the truth?
*No point dwelling. Bury it. Mum must never know.*
Yet he lay awake, remembering the rink, Emily’s laugh.
*Thank God she’s not my sister. And thank God Dad told me. I’ll spare my kids this horror.*
Youth never thinks of consequences—though it should. Their shadows stretch a lifetime. And you never know when old ghosts will rise, threatening to shatter everything.
Jake and Emily married that summer, a week after her birthday. If her mother recognised his dad at the wedding, she didn’t show it. She avoided him, stayed in crowds. Some secrets are best left buried.
