CHAPTER TWENTY
Amelia's chest tightened as Ben's smile reached his eyes, crinkling the corners in that way that still made her breath catch after all these years.
No other man had ever affected her this way, whether he was flashing that infectious grin or brooding in silence with his brow furrowed in concentration.
But his appearance wasn't what had captured her heart. It was something deeper. He had an inner radiance that had pulled her toward him years ago and was drawing her in again now.
No one else could lift her mood the way he did, helping her lower her carefully constructed walls until her true feelings emerged.
When she’d sent him out of her life, he’d taken a lot of the light with him. And it hadn’t been until he’d gone that she’d realized just how much she’d lost.
And now he was back, bringing that light into her life again. Drawing laughter out of her more than anyone else ever could.
Back in high school, her life had been focused and tightly controlled.
Ben was the person who’d helped her loosen that control a bit.
He’d brought balance to her life. Coaxing her out of the rink to spend time doing things unrelated to skating.
Things she’d considered, at the time, to be a distraction.
Those distractions had left with Ben, but so had the balance and the light.
She’d focused intently on her skating, which had helped her achieve her goals, but it had meant that when her ability to skate had disappeared, so had her whole life.
There had been nothing left to focus on but her health.
Her life had become dulled with pain, exhaustion, and worry.
Until Ben had reappeared with his bright smiles, infectious laugh, and his determination to be a part of her life again.
But it was only temporary, and when Ben left again, he’d take the light and laughter with him. And this time, she’d have nothing positive to focus on like she had the last time.
But what right did she have to want to keep him in her life? She had nothing to offer him anymore.
“Hey.” Ben leaned forward and gently poked her arm. “Where did you go?”
She blinked and focused on him. “What?”
“It was like you drifted away,” he said, his brow furrowed. “To somewhere that wasn’t very happy.”
“Sorry. Sometimes my thoughts get a bit fuzzy.”
“Are you being honest with me?”
She hesitated, not wanting to lie to him. “It’s just hard, sometimes, not to be reminded of a better time in my life when I’m with you like this.”
“Is that your way of saying that I bring up bad memories?”
Amelia shook her head. “No. Not bad memories.”
“Then what?
It was hard to look him in the eye because there was something there, even now, that reminded her of those days. That reminded her of how he’d felt about her back then.
“It’s nothing,” she said, giving a wave of her hand.
“I don’t believe you.” Ben’s expression had turned serious, the lighthearted sparkle had disappeared. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”
Amelia picked up her drink and took a sip, her throat suddenly having gone dry. “I don’t really have anyone who brings that time in my life into focus quite like you do.”
“What do you mean?” he asked. “I can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing.”
Amelia stared down at her hands. “I’m not sure either.”
“You don’t like to be reminded of that time,” he said. “I guess I can understand that.”
“It’s painful to bring up those memories because I know I’ll never get back what I had then.”
“Is that why you’ve distanced yourself from Lexi?” he asked.
“Partly,” she admitted. “But also because she just didn’t understand. I was trying my hardest, but she just didn’t understand that my best was nowhere near what it once was.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
“No one understood.” She paused. “No one understands.”
Ben leaned forward, his elbows on the table, his eyes searching hers. "I want to understand," he said softly. "Help me understand."
The gentleness in his voice threatened to undo her. Amelia swallowed hard, her fingers tracing patterns in the condensation on her drink cup.
"It's like…" she paused, trying to find the right words.
"It's like I'm trapped in a body that betrays me every single day.
And everyone keeps saying things will get better, or that I should just push through it, or try this new diet, or some new exercise plan.
But they don't understand that I can barely get out of bed on some days.
How can I train when the simplest of things wear me out? "
The frustration in her voice rose as she spoke, and she had to take a deep breath to steady herself. She hadn't meant to say so much.
"I used to be able to do things most people couldn't even imagine.
Now I struggle with what everyone takes for granted.
And the worst part is…" She paused, her voice dropping to almost a whisper.
"The worst part is that no one seems to see it.
Everyone thinks I'm just lazy or not trying hard enough. "
Ben reached across the table and covered her hand with his. The warmth of his touch sent a flutter through her stomach.
"I see you," he said. "I see how hard you're fighting every day."
Amelia looked away, afraid the intensity in his eyes would break the fragile control she had over her emotions.
The evening sun cast long shadows across the park, painting everything in a golden hue that made the world seem softer somehow.
In that moment, with the world bathed in golden light and Ben looking at her with such genuine concern, Amelia felt a crack form in the walls she'd so carefully built around herself.
"Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever get better," she admitted. "If I'll ever feel like myself again."
"I think you're still you," Ben said, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of her hand. "Just a different version of you than before. And maybe you won’t skate again, but you still have value. You still have a purpose in this life."
Amelia felt a lump form in her throat. "I don't like this version of myself very much."
"I do," Ben said simply. “There is nothing wrong with this version.”
“But this version isn’t me.”
Ben tilted his head as he regarded her for a long moment. “Is it because you can’t skate?”
She lifted her brows at him. “Of course.”
“But you’re more than an ice skater.”
“Am I?” She didn’t feel like she was. Her whole life, the whole reason she’d been acknowledged, was because she skated at an elite level. Her skating was her whole identity.
She’d skated. She’d designed her skating costumes. She’d choreographed her routines. When she wasn’t on the ice, she was still doing something related to skating.
It had been her whole world, and it was how people knew her. So no, she wasn’t sure she was anything more than an ice skater.
“You’re a daughter. A sister. An aunt.”
“Those are all identities tied to other people. Skating was just for me.”
“Okay.” Ben seemed to get what she was saying, since he nodded. “But I never viewed you as just a skater, and I don’t think the people who knew you well viewed you that way either.”
“But… the problem is that I have viewed myself as a skater. Skating was going to be my career. Even after I retired, I planned to stay involved in the skating world. Coaching like Lexi does.”
“And you can’t coach now?”
Amelia felt weight settle on her shoulders as she was once again faced with someone who just didn’t get it. For some reason, it hurt more because she’d thought Ben really understood what she was dealing with.
“No. I can’t.” Bending her head, she picked up the chicken wrap she’d ordered that day.
“I’m sorry, Lia. I just… I just hate seeing you act like you no longer have any value in life now that you can’t skate,” Ben said, his voice gentle. “Because that’s not true at all.”
And yet, that was how she felt. Amelia wanted to say more, to explain how she felt as if a vital piece of her had been ripped away, but the words caught in her throat. She took a bite of her wrap instead, chewing slowly to buy herself time.
"I know it probably sounds stupid to someone like you," she finally said, keeping her eyes on her food. "You've always had so many interests, so many things you're good at. If you lost one, you'd still have others."
Ben leaned back, his expression thoughtful. "That's fair. I can't pretend to know exactly how it feels to have the one main thing in your life taken away."
A strong sense of loss engulfed Amelia. Ever since the symptoms of whatever illness she had had overtaken her life, she’d experienced a lot of people not understanding first, her health struggles, and second, how much she was grieving.
But somehow, without even realizing it, she’d hoped that Ben would be the one to understand. That he’d be the one who would see her struggles and truly understand what she was going through.
She hadn’t known how much she’d longed for that, and then hoped that Ben would be that person for her. Except now, he was trying to help her see value in herself without understanding the depths of her grief.
No one understood how deeply she grieved the loss of her skating. The person she’d been when she skated.
She might not have technically experienced the death of someone close, but the loss of who she’d once been felt very much like a death. One she still hadn’t gotten over, even two years later.
She couldn’t deal with the disappointment she felt in Ben right then. The last thing she wanted was for him to see it, so she took a breath and looked at him again, taking in the earnestness of his expression.
He really wanted her to accept what he was saying, but she couldn’t. She wasn’t there yet, and she had no idea when she would be.
If only the words of others could propel her past the sorrow and pain she was in. But it didn’t work that way. At least not for her.
She didn’t know what it would take, except for time.
“How has your faith factored into what’s happened?”