Hot Shot (Hot as Puck Book 2)

18. Branton

I’m on the lake.

But it’s different this time.

The trees are closer; stripped of leaves, they reach up to the sky with branches like bony hands, skeletal fingers grasping at the gray clouds hanging low above them.

It’s not the lake. It’s the pond.

I can hear blades slicing, grinding, racing. All sounds from my childhood.

The sky above me rumbles and a little girl giggles.

Laura?

When did Laura learn to giggle?

It’s her. I know it’s her.

Where is she? I can’t see…there!

She’s ahead of me, like always.

Except this time, she’s not alone.

Her hands are held tight by two skaters I can’t see, skaters who are taking her away…

“Laura!” I push hard, skate fast, yell loud. “Laura!”

It’s no use. The quicker I go, the further they get in front of me. It’s like I’m going in reverse. Except the trees are whizzing past in my peripheral and I know I’m moving forward because the other side of the pond is getting closer, the trees lining the bank bigger.

“Laura!”

My thighs cramp, ache with each push of my skates but I can’t stop. Can’t give up.

She needs me.

I’m the only one who loves her.

Stretching out a hand, I try to grab her. But I can’t reach. She’s too far.

“She doesn’t belong to you anymore.”

I stumble, the echoey voice floats around me as though coming from above.

Except I know it’s not. It’s from up ahead, next to Laura, and when her sweet laughter rings out across the ice, I know all my efforts are wasted.

I can’t get to her.

I’ll never reach her.

Never touch her.

Never be able to hold her again.

Should never have held her in the first place.

Warmth surrounds me, a blanket of comfort I sink into. The swishing sound of the breeze fills my ears, ruffles my hair, and the restless sleep I just climbed out of falls away.

I’m tired. So tired. The heavy pull of oblivion, the quiet bliss of darkness swallows me, and I drift off into a sea of calm.