Chapter 27Avery
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Avery
The chill from the metal bleachers seeps through my jeans, but I barely notice it. I’m annoyed because I feel nervous as I look out at the empty rink, knowing that Victor will be on the ice in a few minutes. Samantha elbows me gently, a mischievous glint lighting up her eyes.
“Okay, spill. How was your ‘definitely-not-a-date’ dinner with Victor?” She air quotes with her fingers, making Erica and Jessica lean in closer, eager for the gossip.
My cheeks burn hotter than a summer afternoon. “It wasn’t a date,” I mumble, fiddling with the hem of my jacket .
“Come on, Avery. Dinner. With a man. Sounds like a date to me.” She nudges me again, her smile wider now. “Details, girl. We need details.”
I huff, crossing my arms. But who am I kidding? I’ve been dying to talk about it all week. It’s like this weird puzzle in my head that I can’t piece together. His silence since then just echoes louder every day. I shouldn’t care, but I do.
“Fine,” I relent. “But keep it down, okay?” I glance around to make sure no one’s within earshot. I wouldn’t want rumors spreading before I even figure out what’s going on in my own head.
“Promise,” Samantha mouths, zipping her lips and throwing away the key. Erica and Jessica nod in agreement, their expressions as intent as kids waiting for storytime.
“Alright...” I start, diving into the tale of a night that felt more like a rollercoaster than a meal. “Victor had this whole evening planned out, you know? One of those places with more forks than courses.” I shake my head. “But halfway there, he just... shifts gears. Asks me where I’d actually like to go. So I picked Lou’s Diner.”
“Lou’s Diner?” Samantha’s eyebrows shoot up and she stifles a laugh. “Girl, I would have paid a lot of money to see Stone Cold Victor Stone sitting in a booth at Lou’s Diner.”
I chuckle, the memory of sitting across from him unexpectedly warm. I’m about to tell Samantha that he’s actually got much humbler roots than he lets on, but then I think better of it.
“Okay, and then?” Erica prompts, her curiosity piqued.
“So, he goes into this spiel about his plans for the neighborhood.” I gesture vaguely, trying to mimic Victor’s confident hand movements. “Answers to address pretty much all of my worries. Made it sound like he cared. Whether he does or not is still something I’m trying to figure out.”
“Sounds decent,” Jessica comments, nodding thoughtfully.
“And after that, we just walked around town. Ended up back at the arena and...” My voice trails off as I remember gliding across the ice with him.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Samantha interjects, leaning forward, her detective instincts kicking in. “You went ice skating? With Victor?”
“Uh-huh,” I confirm, unable to suppress a smile at how surreal it sounds.
“Sounds pretty date-ish to me,” she teases, but then her gaze narrows slightly. “You’re holding back, Avery. What aren’t you telling us?”
I sigh, the weight of the secret suddenly too much. “He kissed me,” I admit, the words tasting strange, almost foreign.
“Shut up!” Erica gasps, hands flying to her mouth .
“Kissed you?” Jessica repeats, her eyes wide.
“Total mistake.” The words tumble out in a rush, and I can feel my face flushing all over again. “On both our ends.”
“Doesn’t sound like a mistake,” Samantha says softly, her teasing tone gone. She studies me, concern etched in the lines of her face.
“Probably just got caught up in the moment,” I say, shrugging it off, though my racing heart disagrees.
“Or maybe not?” Erica offers gently, a knowing look in her eyes.
“Either way,” I say, standing firmer in my resolve, “it won’t happen again.”
“Here they come!” Samantha points to the rink at our kids and I’m grateful for the distraction. We all lean forward, hands shielding our eyes from the glare of the overhead lights, searching for familiar little figures.
“Is that...? Wait, who’s that with them?” Jessica asks, squinting down at the ice.
“Definitely not Victor,” Erica chimes in, her brow furrowed in confusion.
I scan the rink, feeling a twinge of disappointment. Instead of Victor’s tall frame and dark hair, there’s another man, someone I don’t recognize, calling out instructions and guiding the kids into drills. “Weird,” I mutter under my breath, thinking about how passionate Victor had been about skating, about how he said he was finding the love for it again.
“Any idea why he’s not here?” Erica’s question hangs heavy in the air, and I feel their expectant gazes on me.
“No clue,” I admit, shaking my head. “But I’ll find out.”
The practice flies by in a blur of the scrape of skates against ice. As it wraps up, we shuffle down to the lobby, puffs of warm breath creating foggy halos around us.
“Victor’s usually here by now, right?” Jessica glances around the crowded space, parents and siblings milling about.
“Yeah, he’s actually never missed a single practice before.” The words tumble out before I can stop them, and I realize just how closely I’ve been paying attention to Victor’s comings and goings.
“Maybe it’s a business thing?” Samantha suggests, but the uncertainty in her voice matches my own concerns.
“Could be,” I concede, though my gut tells me it’s something more personal. Did our kiss last week change things? No, he wouldn’t mix that with coaching the kids. Would he?
I turn, spotting my daughter as she emerges, her face flushed from the cold. But there’s no sign of Victor. Not today. Why does that bother me so much?
“Hey, sweetie,” I call out, waving her over.
The chill from the arena lingers on my skin, but it’s nothing compared to the cold knot of concern in my stomach as Olivia trudges up beside me. Her usual post- practice chatter is absent, replaced by a heavy silence that presses down on us both.
“Hey, Liv,” I say, trying to keep my voice light, “what’s eating at you?”
She shrugs, kicking at imaginary pebbles on the floor. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
“Olivia Bennett,” I press, stopping to crouch to her eye level, “I know that ‘fine’ doesn’t really mean fine. If something’s wrong, you can tell me.” But she shakes her head, lips pressed into a thin line.
“Okay,” I relent, standing back up. “We can talk when you’re ready.”
We wave our goodbyes to the other moms, and soon enough, we’re cocooned in the car, the outside world a blur as we drive home.
Once inside, I putter around the kitchen, prepping dinner with one ear tuned to Olivia’s movements. She’s quiet and I realize just how much being on the hockey team has helped her come out of her shell and how much that newfound confidence is missing right now.
“Can you set the table, honey?” I call out. Maybe a simple task will loosen the words stuck in her throat. But all I get is a muted “Okay” before the clatter of cutlery fills the room.
Dinner’s ready, and we sit across from each other, bowls of steaming spaghetti between us. I twirl noodles onto my fork, watching her poke at her food listlessly.
“Sweetheart, talk to me. This isn’t like you,” I urge, reaching across to touch her hand. “Is it about Victor not being there today?”
That gets a reaction. Her face crumples, and she drops her fork with a clatter. “Some kids said he quit ‘cause of you,” she blurts, eyes shiny with unshed tears. “They said he’s mad because you’re fighting the development thing and now we won’t have him as a coach.”
“Liv...” My heart sinks. The last thing I wanted was for my battles to bleed into her world, to tarnish something she loves.
“Is it true?” she asks, bottom lip quivering. “Did you make him leave?”
“Of course not,” I assure her, even though uncertainty gnaws at me. “Victor’s his own person. He makes his own choices, and whatever’s going on, we’ll sort it out, okay? Together.”
“Okay,” she whispers, but the word is small, unsure.
“Let’s eat,” I say, squeezing her hand gently, “and then it’s bedtime for you, young lady.”
“Okay, Mom,” she replies, giving me a tremulous smile as she picks up her fork again. It’s a start.
As she eats, I watch her, my mind racing. I need answers, and there’s only one person who can give them to me.
We finish supper mostly in silence. I clear the plates, feeling a heaviness settle in my chest. Olivia’s somber mood has dimmed the lights of our cozy kitchen, and I can’t shake off the guilt clinging to me like a second skin. I should probably just let it go, but that’s a hard thing for me to do.
“Hey, Liv,” I start, leaning back against the counter as she sips water, “I’m really sorry those kids said that stuff. You know you can always talk to me about anything, right?”
She nods
, her eyes still clouded with hurt. “I just wish they hadn’t said it was your fault.”
I sigh. “Those kids... they don’t understand the whole story. And neither do we, not yet. But I promise, I’ll find out why Victor stopped coaching. It’s got nothing to do with you, okay?”
“Okay,” she replies, but her voice is hardly above a whisper.
“Go get ready for bed,” I tell her, offering a weak smile, “and I’ll come say goodnight in a bit. I love you.”
“Love you too, Mom.” She shuffles toward her room, her small frame seeming even smaller under the weight of her worries.
Once I hear the click of her bedroom door, I fish my cell phone out from my purse. My thumb hovers over Victor’s name in my contacts list. Part of me wants to call him out, to demand answers, but for Olivia’s sake, I need to play this cool.
Avery
Can we talk ?
I hit send before I can second-guess myself.
Staring at the screen, I wait for those three little dots to appear, signaling he’s replying. They don’t. With a deep breath, I slide the phone onto the counter and head toward Olivia’s room.