Chapter 7Avery
Chapter Seven
Avery
I'm perched on the bleachers, arms crossed, as I watch him in front of the cameras. He's got that whole tall, dark, and brooding look down pat, sure, but it's not doing anything for me. Not today. My leg bounces with pent-up irritation, reflecting the turmoil in my head. Olivia's excited giggle echoes in my memory, her plea to join this circus still fresh. It's her dream to skate, not mine, but here I am because that's what you do for your kid.
Some of the press followed inside to the arena. "Come on, Victor, big smile!" someone nearby calls out. I roll my eyes so hard they nearly get stuck. That attempt at a grin—it's about as warm as the ice beneath his feet. Looking at him, you'd think he's never had a genuine happy moment in his life. I let out a snort.
"Stones don't have emotions," I mutter under my breath, leaning back against the cold metal of the bleacher.
The flash of the cameras finally dies down, and like some choreographed dance, Victor turns and lifts his head. Our eyes snag on each other. Mine widen; there's something about being caught staring that sends heat up my cheeks. Still, I don't look away. Not right away. I've got to figure this guy out—figure out if he's just another suit looking to bulldoze through our lives. And it's clear he's trying to do the same with me, his gaze sharp and assessing.
"Victor, over here, we need a shot with the gear," his PR person interrupts, her voice too chipper for my liking. She ushers him away, breaking our strange little showdown.
"Ridiculous," I huff quietly, shaking my head. The whole thing is a spectacle, and not the good kind. I shift uncomfortably on the hard seat, wishing I could be anywhere but here, watching the man who might soon kick me out of my home. But then I remember Olivia's face lit up with joy, and I know I'll endure a thousand awkward photoshoots if it means keeping that smile on her face.
"Hey, Avery!" Jessica's voice breaks through my reverie. Beside her, Emily is trying to hide a smirk behind her hand.
"Caught you eyeing the ice prince," Emily teases as they settle into the bleachers beside me.
"Please," I scoff, waving their comments away like pesky flies. "I was just... watching."
"Sure, and Victor was just 'watching' you too," Jessica says with a nudge.
"Where's Samantha?" I ask, eager to deflect attention from my flushed face.
"Down there," Jessica nods toward the rink. "With the kids. She's in her element." Emily points out Samantha, who's assisting a little one with skates.
"Nice try changing the subject," Emily chides, laughter in her voice.
The Zamboni finishes its last lap, leaving the ice glistening. A sudden burst of energy erupts as kids pour onto the rink. Olivia's among them, a dash of pink against the white. She looks for her place, sticking close to Sophia. The two girls are islands in a sea of boys.
"Olivia seems excited," Jessica observes.
"Yeah," I sigh, watching my daughter's cautious movements. There's a tightness in my chest, a mix of pride and worry. "I just hope we're doing the right thing here."
"Olivia's got this," Emily reassures me, resting a comforting hand on my shoulder. "She's a brave kid, takes after her mom. "
"Thanks," I say, allowing myself a small smile. But deep down, uncertainty still gnaws at me.
I begin to look around, telling myself that I'm not trying to watch Victor Stone directly, but that I'm just curious about what he's going to do next. He hasn't moved, standing rigid on the sidelines, as out of place as a cactus in the Arctic. The kids buzz around him, strapping on their gear with eager hands, but he's like a statue, unmoved by the chaos.
"Thought this was a PR stunt," I mutter, leaning back. "He looks about as comfortable as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs."
"Right?" Emily chimes in, her voice laced with amusement. "Like he's not sure what to do with all that... youthful energy."
"Definitely not here for his love of the game," Jessica adds, her eyebrows dancing with mirth.
My gaze sticks to him. It's clear he isn't here for the warm fuzzies—he's as detached as they come, and it irks me more than it should. I'm not one to care about the affairs of men like him, yet here I am, watching, analyzing.
As if on cue, the coach skates out onto the ice, slicing through the air with practiced ease. He's got an air of authority, the kind that comes from years on the rink. He makes a beeline for Victor, each stride confident and purposeful.
"Looks like Coach Donovan's making his grand entrance," Emily notes. "Retired Railer, you know."
"Really?" I feign interest, my eyes darting between Victor and the coach. They meet at center ice, shaking hands—a photo op in the making.
"Big deal around here," she continues, her tone suggesting I should be impressed.
"Great," I say with a dismissive shrug, "so he can skate and Victor can buy good press. What a pair."
"Always the cynic," Jessica teases, nudging me with her elbow.
"Realist," I correct her, crossing my arms over my chest. "Just don't want Olivia—or any of these kids—getting caught up in some PR charade."
The flash of cameras punctuates my thought, capturing the handshake for tomorrow's headlines. Victor's stone-faced expression doesn't waver, even as the coach beams beside him. I can't help but wonder if anything genuine lies beneath that icy exterior.
"Let's just hope they remember there are actual kids involved," I add, my gaze drifting back to the rink where Olivia's now fully geared up, ready to take on the ice. "Anyway," I break away from the ice for a moment, turning back to Jessica. "We need to get those protest meetings on the calendar. If we're going to push back against this development, we can't drag our feet."
"Have you joined our Facebook group?" Jessica asks, her eyes sparkling with the kind of enthusiasm that's infectious. "It's for the parents with kids on the team. You could post the dates there. Get the word out faster."
"Good idea." I nod, a small smile creeping onto my face as I pull out my phone. I can almost taste the small victory, rallying the neighborhood, standing united, and beating Stone at his own game.
Olivia skating over to where Victor is standing pulls me back to reality, and I pocket my phone. There's an eagerness about her movements that makes my heart launch into my throat. I watch, hands clenching the cold metal of the bleachers, as Victor bends down to her level.
"Be careful, Liv," I mutter under my breath, knowing she can't hear me but saying it all the same. Victor's listening to her, but his face is unreadable, like he's analyzing every word.
Olivia points up at me, and suddenly Victor's gaze lifts, piercing blue eyes locking with mine. My hand raises in an awkward wave, a reflex more than anything. He doesn't wave back, just holds my gaze with an intensity that feels like a weight against my chest. What's he thinking? Is he judging me, us, like he judges everything else?
Then Olivia skates away, her laughter echoing in the chilly air. Victor's stare lingers a moment longer before he finally breaks away, leaving me wondering what just happened.