Chapter 34Avery
Chapter Thirty-Four
Avery
The cold air of the rink bites at my cheeks as Samantha nudges me, breaking my concentration. "Look who's back on the ice," she says, a hint of mischief in her voice. I follow her gaze and there he is—Victor, with that same intense focus he's always had, commanding the attention of the kids as they skate laps. My lips twist into a frown. "Too little too late," I mutter under my breath, eyeing his dark figure against the stark white of the ice. The moms around us are watching him, probably thinking he's some kind of hero.
"Can't let Mr. Big Shot Developer distract me now," I say more to myself than to anyone else. My hands grip the edges of my clipboard as I descend the bleachers, the echo of my boots pounding against the metal reverberating in the chilly silence. It's time to refocus.
"Okay, everyone," I call out, trying to sound more confident than I feel. "Let's talk strategy. That development is going up for approval in exactly one week."
As I outline our battle plan against the looming board meeting, a feeling washes over me—a sense of being watched. And sure enough, when my eyes inadvertently flick towards the rink, Victor's piercing blue gaze catches mine. He's standing there by the boards, still as stone, and I swear I can almost feel the chill from his eyes.
I look away quickly, heat flooding my cheeks, but the distraction lingers. "Avery?" Jessica's voice cuts through the hum of the arena, pulling me back. "What about the petitions? Did we get enough signatures?"
"Uh, yes, the petitions..." I stammer, scrambling to regain composure. "We're... we're good on that front." But my words feel hollow, lost in the crackling tension that fills the space between Victor's stare and my own flustered thoughts.
I push through the agenda, but my words keep tripping over themselves. Every shout from Victor to the kids on the ice slices into my concentration, and I can't help but steal glances at him. There's something different in the way he moves now, more patient, more... connected. It bothers me that I notice.
"Remember, we need everyone at the board meeting," I say, wrapping up. "It's our community, our homes on the line."
"Are you Avery Bennett?" The voice comes from behind, unfamiliar and unexpected.
I swivel around, caught off guard. "Yes, that's me." My eyes widen as a delivery guy hands me a massive bouquet of roses, the kind you see in movies, not in real life, not in my life.
"Delivery for you," he says with a smile that suggests he's used to seeing the recipients of such grand gestures swoon or giggle. Not today, buddy.
"Thanks," I mutter, cheeks hot as every mother in the vicinity turns to gawk.
"Whoa, those are gorgeous!" Samantha exclaims as I make my way back to our spot, the flowers nearly blocking my view.
"Seriously, Avery, who's playing Prince Charming?" Jessica teases, nudging Emily, who can't seem to hide her amusement.
"Got me." I shrug, setting the blooms down with less care than they probably deserve. I'm about to suggest they're from some secret admirer when Samantha chimes in.
"Come on, you know exactly who sent them." Her knowing smile irks me.
"Let's just—" I start, but there's no ignoring it any longer. I reach for the card nestled among the petals. I don't read the card. I just spot the name "Victor" at the bottom and stick it in my pocket.
"Ugh." It slips out before I can stop it. I peek over at him, and sure enough, his gaze is fixed on me. Those blue eyes that should be cold, somehow aren't, and it's disarming.
"Looks like Mr. Ice is thawing," Samantha murmurs.
But I can't afford to thaw. Not with him. Not now. I stand abruptly, leaving the roses on the bench, and head for the lobby. My heart thumps a foolish rhythm in my chest, one I have no intention of dancing to.
Two days later and I'm back at the arena for another practice. The bleachers are cold against my back as I settle into my usual spot, but the chill doesn't compare to the ice that forms in my veins when I spot it—a single red rose lying across the metal seat in front of me, a white envelope tucked beneath like some sort of flag of truce. I don't need to check the card to know who it's from. My gaze drifts to the rink, and there he is— dark hair falling into those piercing eyes, which are fixed on me with an intensity that feels like a physical touch.
"Going to read it?" Samantha nudges me, breaking the spell .
I shake my head, the words coming out more clipped than I intend. "No."
"Come on, Avery, maybe it’s an apology," she presses, reaching for the rose.
But I'm faster, snatching it away from her grasp. "Doesn't matter." I stand abruptly, the note crinkling in my grip as I stride toward the nearest trash can. My movements feel robotic, automatic, as if I'm running on pure instinct.
"Whoa, what are you doing?" Samantha calls after me, her voice tinged with disbelief.
"Making a statement." The note tears easily, pieces fluttering like confetti into the bin, the rose following with a soft thud. I refuse to let Victor's attempts at... whatever this is sway me. Not now. Not ever again.
It's the last practice before this weekend's board meeting. I really don't want to be here and give Victor another chance to try and get to me, but I don't have a choice. I shuffle into the arena. The clatter of sticks and pucks echoes off the walls as I make my way to the bleachers where Samantha, Emily, and Jessica are perched, their eyes tracking the kids on the ice .
"Board meeting tomorrow. You'll all be there?" I drop onto the cold metal bench beside them.
"Wouldn't miss it," Emily murmurs, her nod sharp and decisive.
"Of course," Jessica chimes in, her voice soft but firm.
"Absolutely," Samantha adds, her gaze never leaving the rink.
Silence blankets us, thick and heavy, punctuated only by the scrape of skates and the occasional shout from Victor. We're four statues, watching a scene we've seen a hundred times before, yet the air feels different today—charged with tension, like the sky before a storm.
"Is Avery Bennett here?" A man's voice cuts through the din, and I stiffen. I don't make a move to turn around.
"Over here," Samantha calls out, feigning my identity with a sly grin.
"Here you are, ma'am." The man extends a single stem rose toward her, a note dangling from its trimmed stem.
"Thanks," she says cheerfully, accepting the unwanted gift.
My heart thuds against my ribs as I lunge for the rose, but Samantha's already springing up the bleachers, her laughter trailing behind her like a taunt.
"Give it back, Sam!" I shout, my breath coming fast as I chase her up the steps. There's no use in trying to keep up with her, though. Sam ran track in high school, whereas I was only ever in an art studio .
By the time I catch up, Samantha's already got the note open and by the looks of it, she's read it. I make my way up the last few stairs, my breath heaving from exertion, but as I look at her, her face has lost all traces of mirth.
"Look, Avery, I know you're mad at Victor, but maybe he really is trying," she says, sorrow etched into the lines of her face.
"Just give it to me," I snap, snatching the items from her hand.
The rose feels like a lead weight. The note—unassuming—burns hotter than a live coal. I stare at it, willing myself to tear it to shreds, but something stops me. Curiosity? Masochism? Who knows.
Samantha watches me, her expression a silent plea as I fold the note and put it back into the envelope unread. It's just ink on paper. Just Victor reaching out again, I convince myself.
"Read it when you're ready," Samantha whispers, patting my shoulder before she descends the bleachers.
I stand there alone, watching Samantha settle back into her seat next to Emily and Jessica. I force myself to unfold the note and the sounds of the rink fade around me, the world narrowing down to the scrawl of blue ink that could change everything-or leave me right where I am.