10
BECK
The bouqueton the passenger seat was tiny compared to the one that had rotted in my hotel room. This one was made up of white roses and eucalyptus. Emma, the florist, convinced me that the duo was the perfect combo for Clara and our 'situation.'
I stared at the flowers, then squinted through the windshield at the sunny afternoon. I was parked at the edge of the outdoor rink. From where I sat, I could make out a lone figure skating across the ice.
Even from a hundred yards away, I knew it was her. There was an aggression to her skating. She was carving into the ice, attacking the take-offs and landings of her jumps. A dog sat on the snowbank, watching her.
I killed the engine of the SUV. The silence of the mountains was interrupted by the thumping in my chest.
The wind had shifted. When I stepped out of the car the air felt damp and heavy, as though a storm was coming. Shivering, I clutched the flowers in one hand and gripped the collar of my coat shut with the other.
The dog spotted me before I made it to the boards. He charged, letting out a series of barks.
"Easy, pup!” I spoke in a calm, don’t attack me, voice.
Clara skidded to a stop near the boards. Her cheeks were flushed a bright red that matched her candy-cane striped hat.
She looked at the roses and rolled her eyes. "White roses? You've got to be kidding me."
"Emma insisted," I shrugged. "She said something about the white of winter and eucalyptus representing spring. New beginnings and thawing, or something like that."
Clara crossed her arms. "I don't want them, Beckett."
I set them on the boards. I knew how much she loved roses and wouldn't let them die like I had. "I spoke to Mr. King."
Clara raised her eyebrows. "And? Why are you telling me this?"
"Clara, I've spent the last week meeting with Rapidians. I talked to Logan. And Evan. I know about the programs now." The words came faster as I continued. "I should've known. I should've done my homework. I'm sorry."
"She laughed.”You're always sorry, aren't you?"
"Clara—"
I tried to sound confident, channeling the energy I used on the ice during games. "I didn't know about the charity ice time. That all happened… after I left."
"Save it." She pushed off the boards and skated away.
"Wait." I jogged along beside the rink. "The programs aren't going anywhere. Mr. King promised. You can keep teaching. The kids can keep skating."
This made her stop. Her hands were balled into fists on her hips, but at least she was looking at me. I had to get to the point. "I know how important it is for kids to have access to sports. It can save lives."
I think her shoulders softened, but it was hard to tell under her giant parka. "Mr. King agreed to provide subsidized ice timefor your program, and for Logan's hockey kids. I'm getting it drafted into the agreement."
To my surprise, she didn't smile. The only thing she did was narrow her eyes even further. "You expect me to believe that William King, the billionaire who drains swamps for golf courses, is going to do something for free? Because you asked nicely?"
"I'm persuasive."
"You're either lying, Beckett, or you're an idiot." She pushed off the boards, gliding backward away from me. "Go home. Before you freeze to death in your designer coat."
"Clara, wait." I unlatched the boards and stepped onto the ice. "I'm trying to fix this. I didn't know about… a lot of stuff."
She dug in her toe-picks, grinding to a halt. "That's right, Beckett. You don't know about anything that happened here after you left. Why? Because the second you left this town it ceased to exist in your life." Her voice shook and her face flashed red with anger.
"I had to leave!" I snapped.
The sky, which had been the color of a bluebird, had shifted closer to that of a raven.
