Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Noah
Peaches
I should have brought the practice towers.
They’re in storage, because the school has family skate during parents’ weekend, and we use them for drills sometimes, but I forgot them.
And then I thought I wouldn’t need them, because Savannah looked scared, and probably trusted me to keep her up more than an inanimate object. Then I didn’t want to let her go.
We do a few laps with me going backwards, holding both her hands in mine. Then I only hold one hand, putting my palm on the small of her back whenever she seems to be losing her balance, which really isn’t often enough.
By the time I skate backwards in front of her again, this time not holding her at all, I almost want her to stumble, so I could have an excuse to reach out for her. Not that I want Savannah to fall, but I really want to catch her.
“Oh my God! I’m doing it! I’m skating!”
The smile on Savannah’s face is terrified, excited, and proud. I immediately take back any wishes for anything that would dampen that smile.
“I told you, you’re a natural.”
“It took me an hour to get this far,” she argues, which isn’t impressive, but a lot of that blame is on me for not wanting to let her go.
She’s a complication I don’t need, so I put a little more distance between us and try to treat her like she’s just another student, but I beam with pride when she hits a divot and rights herself before I can.
“You’re killing it, Peaches.”
What the fuck was that?
“Peaches?”
She doesn’t look upset by it, but her head is cocked to the side like she’s also wondering what the fuck I was thinking.
“Hockey players all have nicknames,” I explain. Usually a play on our last names, so I should have just called her James, which is a boy’s name that would have added more distance than a cutesy fucking nickname. “I could have gone with Georgia, but…”
“Is it a butt reference?” she asks like she’s not impressed, but her cheeks heat as she realizes she just brought her ass up in front of me.
“More like you’re sweet and adorable, like a Georgia peach,” I assure her, but even if I wasn’t thinking about and eying her ass before, I am now.
“My mom is from there,” she admits. “I don’t think she regrets settling here for my dad, but she misses home. We’re all named after towns in Georgia.”
“So it’s a fitting nickname.”
“I do love Peaches.”
Me too, I think. For the fruit, at least. But I also know she would make it easy to fall for the girl as well.
We skate around a bit. Savannah follows at the same distance, and when I go a little faster, she meets my speed. She doesn’t say anything, but she notices, because her eyes go wide each time she decides to follow.
“Are you having fun?” I ask, already thinking of all the things we could do if she came back.
Not that I particularly want to run her through my lesson plan, but I can picture her trying to shoot a puck into the net, attempting to steal said puck off me, and it feels like fun.
Like coaching Izzie, only I imagine pulling Savannah into my arms and kissing her after I let her score on me.
I finally get why Darren loves open morning skates.
“A lot more than I expected.”
“Are you saying I coerced you into coming?”
“I’m good on my own,” she says, but I think my face must drop, like the sinking feeling in my chest, because she stumbles, so I reach out and catch her, wrapping my arms around her waist instead of just guiding her hands.
“I mean that I’m not someone who can’t be on their own.
I write, I read; I don’t need to be entertained.
So coming out, doing something scary in front of someone I don’t want to make a bad impression in front of… it sounded like a terrible idea.”
“I never meant for—”
She puts her hand on my chest to stop me, and I swear my breath fucking hitches.
“But sometimes it’s good to do the things that scare you. And this, while terrifying, is the most fun I’ve had in a while.”
“You’re not just saying that to make me feel better for dragging you out to your worst nightmare?
” I try to sound teasing, to keep my eyes on hers, but I keep looking down at her lips, at her chest that shows me how out of breath she is, at the hand that must know how fast my heart is beating under it.
“I feel…alive. Not that I don’t normally, but…I thought you wanted me to understand the technical side of skating, but we’re going at a snail’s pace, and I feel like I’m flying. Thank you, Noah, truly.”
“You’re welcome.” I clear my throat because it keeps coming out gruff.
“I should get going. I have an early class, and—”
“I’ll walk you to your car,” I say without thinking, but I’m sure it’s dark outside, and my mom, back when she was still acting like one, raised me better than that.
“You don’t have to.” Savannah sounds breathless as she smiles, and I wonder if she was trying to get away from me.
“I want to,” I assure her, because I do. I shouldn’t. This complicates things and I can’t be what she wants, be anything more than a friend when I have nothing else going on, but I want to spend so many of those minutes with her.
She shivers, so I take off my sweatshirt and put it over her head, fixing her hair once it’s in place.
“Aren’t we leaving?” she asks.
“One more lap,” I argue, and I can’t help my smile when she nods.
She’s good enough to go on her own, but instead, I hold her close and give myself this last lap before I get back on track.
I rush to put my skates back in my locker while Savannah uses the restroom.
“Hello?” I ask when my phone rings with an unknown number.
“Hi, Mr. Callahan?”
“Who is this?” I ask instead of telling her Mr. Callahan is my father, because technically, the burden does fall on me.
“I’m Mrs. Marcotte. Isabelle’s teacher?”
“Is everything okay?” I panic, but school ended hours ago, and it’s not like Izzie is a troublemaker.
“Of course. But tonight is the parent teacher conference.”
“Shit, sorry. Did her mother not make it?” I don’t call her our mother. Like a remnant from when I was afraid someone would find out I was way too young to be raising Izzie.
“No, she didn’t. And it isn’t mandatory, but when I mentioned it to Isabelle earlier, she said you often handle her homework. When I found your contact information, I thought I would see if you were on your way…”
“No, I’m sorry. I can be there in maybe an hour?” I try to go to bed early the night before a game, but this wouldn’t be the first time that doesn’t work out.
“We’ll be long gone by then. But don’t worry, Isabelle is doing great.”
“Not in math,” I argue, not so much because I want to bring her down, but saying Izzie’s doing great doesn’t tell me how to help her.
“She’s improved significantly. And she’s been very good at helping other students, sharing tips and tricks that work for her.”
“Izzie’s got a big heart,” I agree, but a teacher wouldn’t call just to praise my sister, when I already know how awesome she is.
“She does.” There’s a pause. “My only concern is her support system. Again, it’s not mandatory, but there is a PTA which holds meetings every month or so, bake sales for field trips, volunteer sign-up sheets for plays…
I looked back, and no one has signed up for her for any of these, which again, none of them are mandatory… ”
“But one every once in a while is expected.”
“Strongly encouraged,” she agrees. “I have lists of behavior problems and subjects to focus on for a lot of these kids, but that was the only item we had for Isabelle. She really is doing great.”
We’re the ones who are failing her.
“Thank you, Mrs. Marcotte. I’ll make sure we sign up for something.” I try to stay pleasant and polite, but my shoulders slump as soon as I hang up.