Catch But Don't Release

Chapter 11

Dinner came to an end, and as they made their way out of the restaurant toward the waiting car, the air between them shifted—charged, warm, expectant. Brody opened the door, and Emily slid inside. Once he joined her, the tension only grew thicker, humming quietly in the small space.

Trying to ease it, Emily offered a soft smile. “Thank you for a lovely evening. And the dinner.”

Brody returned the smile, a little too quickly. “I had a great time too.” Then, almost as if afraid the night might slip away, he added, “Do you want to do something fun?”

Curious—and admittedly intrigued—Emily nodded. “Sure.”

Brody tapped on the partition. It slid down, revealing the driver. “To my sanctuary,” Brody said.

“Yes, sir,” the driver replied.

Emily raised a brow. “Your sanctuary? Where are we going?”

Brody’s grin widened, boyish and bright. “You’ll see.”

A few minutes later, the car pulled up to a small one‑story building. Brody stepped out, keys already in hand, and Emily followed him to the entrance. He unlocked the door, flicked on the lights, and the space slowly came alive.

“It’s a building I just purchased,” he said.

Emily blinked. “You brought me here to show me a building you bought?”

“Not exactly.” Amused, he took her hand and guided her down a short hallway. He pushed open a door, revealing shelves lined with skates of every size.

Emily’s eyes widened. “Skating?”

Brody laughed. “Yeah. Do you skate?”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t actually.”

“That’s okay.” He grabbed a pair of skates and knelt in front of her. Emily froze for a moment—surprised, flustered—but then let him gently slip the skates onto her feet.

Once he laced up his own, she watched him with a mix of nerves and anticipation. “Now what?”

Brody skated over to her and held out his hand. “Now we skate.”

She took his hand, and as Brody pulled her up, she clung to him instantly—fingers digging into his arms, her whole body leaning into his like he was the only solid thing in the world. The sudden closeness hit him harder than he expected. He tried to play it cool, but the warmth in his eyes betrayed him, softening, brightening, savoring.

“Easy,” he murmured, steadying her as her skates wobbled beneath her. “I’ve got you.”

“I hope so,” she breathed, though her grip said she wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

He guided her toward the open rink, slow and patient, his hands firm at her waist. Emily stayed glued to him, every tiny shift of her weight sending her closer, her shoulder brushing his chest, her breath warming the space between them. Brody didn’t rush her. He didn’t want to. Every second she stayed in his arms felt like a small, perfect victory.

When they reached the center of the rink, she dared a glance up at him. Her cheeks were flushed—part nerves, part cold, part something else entirely.

“Don’t laugh at me,” she warned, tightening her hold as her skates slid a fraction.

Brody’s lips curved. “I’m not laughing.”

“You’re absolutely laughing.”

“I’m absolutely not,” he said, though the smile tugging at his mouth made her narrow her eyes.

She swatted his arm lightly, still clinging to him with the other hand. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Can you blame me?” he asked, leaning in just enough that she felt the warmth of his breath against her temple.

Before she could fire back, he murmured, “Here—let me try something.” His fingers tightened just slightly, guiding her. “Can you trust me for a moment?”

Emily looked up at him, her pulse skipping. His eyes were steady, open, waiting. “Okay,” she said, though the word came out softer than she intended.

Brody shifted, moving to face her. He took both of her hands in his, his grip warm and sure, and began skating backward. The motion pulled her forward, her skates gliding in a way that felt almost effortless. Emily’s smile bloomed—bright, surprised, delighted.

“See?” he said, watching her more than the ice. “You’re doing great.”

“Only because you’re doing all the work,” she teased, but her voice carried a breathless edge.

Brody’s grin widened. “Are you ready for me to let go?”

Her eyes went wide. “I’m scared.”

He didn’t laugh. He didn’t tease. Instead, he moved to her side, still guiding her forward, but now holding her hand instead of pulling her. “I’m right here,” he said quietly. “You’re not going anywhere.”

They skated like that—slow, uneven, but together. Their hands stayed linked, their shoulders brushing every few seconds. When they finally glanced at each other, the look they shared was warm and unguarded.

And that was exactly when Emily lost focus.

Her skate wobbled. “Oh—”

Brody reacted instantly, trying to steady her, but their skates tangled. In a heartbeat, gravity won. They toppled in a tangle of limbs, Emily landing squarely on top of him.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then they both burst into laughter—loud, helpless, echoing across the rink. Emily tried to push herself up, but her skates slipped again, sending her right back down onto Brody’s chest. That only made him laugh harder, his shoulders shaking beneath her.

“Okay—okay—stop moving,” he managed between laughs.

“I’m trying!” she wheezed, laughing so hard her eyes watered.

Brody finally got his bearings and sat up, still chuckling. “Here, let me help.” He rose first, then pulled her up with both hands. She clutched his arms, breathless from laughter and the shock of the fall.

But as the laughter faded, something else settled between them—something warm and electric. Emily was still in his arms, her hands resting on his chest, his palms firm at her waist. Their breaths mingled in the cold air. Brody’s smile softened, his gaze dropping to her lips for the briefest second before he leaned in, slow and certain.

Emily felt the moment shift—felt the pull, the closeness, the inevitability of it. Her heart thudded. Her breath caught.

And then reality snapped back.

He’s my boss.

She cleared her throat sharply and stepped back, breaking the moment. “Uh—maybe we should get going. It’s getting kinda late.”

Brody blinked, the disappointment flickering across his face so quickly she almost missed it. But he recovered with a small, polite smile. “Of course. Let me help you off this ice.”

He offered his hand again—gentle, steady, careful—and guided her back toward the exit, neither of them speaking, both of them feeling the echo of the moment that almost happened.

The quiet between them wasn’t awkward—it was charged, warm, humming with everything they weren’t saying.

They changed back into their shoes in near silence, the only sounds the soft scrape of laces and the distant echo of skates on ice. Brody kept sneaking glances at her, trying to find the right words, something light enough not to ruin the night but honest enough to match what he felt. Nothing came. So he stayed quiet, offering her a small smile when she finally looked up.

“Ready to go?” he asked, voice gentle.

Emily returned the smile, soft and a little shy. “Yes.”

They walked out together, the cold air brushing their cheeks as they headed to the car. Emily could feel the shift in him—still warm, still kind, but quieter, more careful. And something about that tugged at her. He had given her such a perfect day, one she hadn’t realized she needed until she was in the middle of it.

Maybe she owed him something back. Maybe she wanted to.

Once they were in the car and the motor hummed to life, she turned slightly toward him. “Brody… would you like to go out with me tomorrow?”

His head snapped toward her, eyes lighting up so fast it made her breath catch.

She panicked. “As friends! I mean—just as friends. I want to repay you for today. It’s been the most fun I’ve had in a very long time.”

Brody’s smile softened, but the brightness didn’t fade. “Just for the record,” he said quietly, “you don’t have to repay me for anything.” He paused, eyes lingering on her a beat too long. “And I would love to see you again tomorrow.”

The air in the car thickened, warm and heavy with everything they weren’t naming. Neither of them spoke for the rest of the drive, but the silence wasn’t empty—it pulsed, alive, stretching between them like a held breath.

When they pulled up to her place, Brody was out of the car before she could reach for the handle. He opened her door, offering his hand. She took it, and the moment their palms met, the tension snapped right back into place—hot, immediate, undeniable.

They stood there, hands linked, staring at each other in the soft glow of the streetlight. Emily felt the pull again, that same electric tug from the rink. Brody’s eyes dipped to her lips for half a second before he caught himself and looked away.

“Good night, Emily,” he said, voice low, steady, but threaded with something he couldn’t quite hide.

“Good night,” she whispered.

He let her hand go slowly—too slowly to be accidental—then stepped back, giving her space even though every part of him wanted to stay.

As she walked to her door, she could feel his gaze on her, warm and lingering, and she knew tomorrow was going to be even more complicated… and even harder to resist.