Chapter 44 Eleanor
ELEANOR
It had been over a week since Columbus.
In some ways, it felt like a lifetime ago, and in others like it had just happened. My days were full now of practice, bruises, laughter, the dizzying sweetness of Alex. That part of my life felt like a miracle I was still afraid to look at too closely, like it might vanish if I stared.
Home was something else entirely.
I’d found out a few days after the chalk incident that my mom had fired Belle.
I’d been furious until Belle texted me, all breezy reassurance, saying it was fine, the agency had already reassigned her to another house.
She hadn’t been hurt by it. But I had. It was just one more reminder of how casually my mother could erase people from our lives.
And she hadn’t spoken to me since.
The silent treatment was nothing new. I’d grown up with it, days, sometimes weeks, of being treated like I didn’t exist. It was her favorite punishment. Strangely, it didn’t even bother me anymore. I didn’t particularly want to talk to her.
But it confused Ava.
That was what made it unbearable.
Ava kept asking why Grandma was mad, what she’d done wrong, and when it would go back to normal. I had no good answers for her, and watching her twist herself into knots trying to understand something that had nothing to do with her made something in me harden.
I found myself thinking more and more about the empty duplex next to Alex’s.
About space. About peace. About what it might feel like to live somewhere that didn’t come with constant emotional landmines.
It felt fast. Too fast, maybe. But it also felt like oxygen. I was ready. I just needed my advance to hit my account.
Practice was the one place where my brain finally shut up.
Mel was running jammer drills, slicing through the pack with sharp, efficient movements, while Belle skated beside me, calling out formations and positions like a battlefield commander.
“Wall up. Two to the outside. Don’t chase—hold the line,” she barked.
I loved it. I loved the strategy, the movement, the way my body and my brain had to work together. I felt strong. I felt powerful. I felt like I was finally learning the language of this new world.
Ava sat on the sidelines with her headphones on, legs tucked under her, drawing in her sketchbook. Every once in a while, she’d look up and grin at me, like she was proud of me just for being out there.
Even with all the chaos at home, she was thriving again.
That thought distracted me just long enough for Belle to hip check me cleanly to the floor.
I skidded, laughing and groaning at the same time, as Mel flew past. “Eyes up, rookie!” she called over her shoulder.
“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, pushing myself back up.
Derby didn’t care what else was going on in my life.
The next time I glanced over at the sidelines, Ava wasn’t alone. Alex was sitting beside her, leaning in as she showed him something in her sketchbook. She looked up, caught my eye, and smiled, bright and easy.
My chest went warm, and I immediately took another hit because of it.
“Focus,” I muttered to myself, laughing as I pushed back into the pack.
But having both of them there, watching me, grounded me in a way nothing else could. I got out of my head and into my body, skating harder, cleaner, sharper. I hit lines I’d been missing. I held my walls. I broke through when it mattered.
When we finally called it, we were all sweaty and flushed, clustered around the benches with water bottles in hand. Mel skated over, clapping once to get our attention.
“Alright,” she said. “Five days. That’s your first bout. For the three of you.” She pointed at me, then the others. “But I wouldn’t be throwing you in if I didn’t think you were ready. You’ve got this.”
I believed her.
Everything felt . . . good.
After I changed and slung my skate bag over my shoulder, I stepped back out into the rink lobby. Alex and Ava were still talking, heads bent together, laughing over something I couldn’t hear.
I paused.
There was a small pang in my chest, watching my daughter with another man like that. A whisper of grief, of what could never be.
But it was different now. Alex would never be Ava’s dad. But he could be someone in her corner. Another safe, understanding adult in her life. And there were never enough of those.
Alex looked up and saw me. “We decided,” he said, smiling, “that we’re going to The Joint for burgers.”
“That sounds perfect,” I said.
The diner was loud and warm and smelled like fries and grilled onions. Ava was in a booth across from us, crayons scattered everywhere, already halfway through covering her placemat with skulls and flames.
“That was so cool,” she said, barely looking up. “When you skated past all those people, it was like—whoosh. I want to do derby someday.”
“You would be terrifying,” I told her fondly.
She grinned. “What’s going to be your derby name?”
I paused, thinking about it. “I don’t know yet. The team gives it to you on the night of your first bout.”
“That’s awesome.”
“I know. I have a few ideas, but none of them feel quite right.” I rattled off a couple—half jokes, half hopes—and Ava made thoughtful humming noises as she drew.
I went back to my own little corner of the placemat, adding a few flames of my own around one of her skulls, just for fun.
Under the table, Alex’s hand was wrapped around mine, warm and steady.
Maybe it was time.
Maybe it was time to move toward something that felt this easy, alive, full of color instead of silence.
The thought didn’t scare me.
It felt like home.