Three hours later, my forest green truck is blending in with the snow-covered evergreens from every side.
Iris Lake is truly a picturesque little town in Northern Vermont. The streets are small and quaint, the shops and restaurants all seem welcoming and ready for you with a smile. Nothing like the busy metropolis where I was raised. Not Moscow or New York. Maybe if I’d spent my childhood here, I wouldn’t have turn out so jaded.
Nah, who am I kidding, my father would manage to invade my world with his black mold even if I was in a covenant.
Electra Monroe, my friend charge, decided to live on the farthest side of this town, hiding away from everyone’s prying eyes—because let’s not forget, it’s a gossipy small town after all—and I can’t blame her. I’d do the exact same.
I’m not an attention whore like my best friend is. It’s not that I don’t like it, I simply don’t crave it. I’m not interested in being gushed over, because they are gushing over a fictional character, Sava—the Brick—a hotshot goalie, not Severin Minaev, whose hands are covered in blood and instead of a heart, a storm rages inside.
A storm that I’ve been keeping at bay all these years and plan on keeping it up for all the rest of them.
A few more turns, and the sprawling Iris Lake itself comes into my view. Electra’s house that looks like a cross between a cozy cabin and a modern getaway, is nestled right at the edge of it, overlooking the icy surface and behind it is a thick, lush forest, still asleep in the early springtime.
The owner herself spots me as soon as my truck comes into view. She’s sitting in her wheelchair at the edge of the lake with a small smile on her face directed my way. Her brown bangs peeking from underneath her knit hat.
I’m still surprised how easy it is to not have to pretend to be someone I’m not around her and Exton. Sure, I still sugarcoat a few sides here and there, but my smiles are not forced, my mood is not faux, and my reactions and conversations—those don’t come from learned behavior.
Electra is a good one, and didn’t deserve the shitty hand that she was dealt.
She was at the top of her game, best of all, up until her partner decided to be a cocky idiot and made a mistake at the final program that cost her the use her legs. Or more accurately, her spine. The news were brimming with their story in those days. One slipped blade cost Electra a chance at Olympics while Erik went on as if nothing happened. As if he didn’t cause that accident and abandoned his girlfriend in a wheelchair.
See, like I said earlier, ice doesn’t take in fools. Only I wish in their case, Electra wouldn’t be the only one paying the price for her partner’s ego. It’s a good thing I love to help the universe right the scales from time to time, and Erik Shishkov—the said partner—will get what he deserves. In time.
I spot Exton himself playing on the ice with a small boy, both of them wearing full gear, and my eyebrows lift in amusement. Well, would you look at that. How the mighty grump has fallen.
Finally, I park my car and climb out of it. “Electra!” I shout, my voice ricocheting off the ice and mountains around us, and shoot her a blinding smile that even my oblivious friend won’t miss but I don’t focus my attention on him yet.
Electra sends me a wider grin as she waves, gesturing for me to come over. There’s someone sitting next to her, hidden behind her chair. Presumably it’s the little boy’s parent, but I can’t seethe person from this angle and decide I don’t care enough about it to strain my neck and figure out who it is. But just as I go to pull my attention away from them, a gust of searing wind slips under my jacket, shirt, and finally my skin, and an invisible shudder runs through me, despite not a single branch on the trees around me moving even an inch.
The force is so strong it nearly knocks me off my feet just before binding me to the snow-covered ground, teetering me to the place as if my fate was just decided—or fallen into place—and I have no say in it. My breath picks up, the air flowing in and out of me filled with warmth I don’t have much experience with.
In fact, I’ve only ever felt it once… Before I can gulp it in as much as possible, to draw every starved breath in…it disappears.
Not fully, not completely gone, but the strength is wavering, and I find myself desperately grabbing onto it, halting it.
To everyone else, no more than two, maybe three, seconds have passed, but for me…ions had shifted.
What in the fuck was that?
And that’s when I see it…her…
My nightmare personified.
7
Crack, crack, crack
Aurora
“Youhavethemostamazing son, Rory,” Electra whispers almost reverently as we watch Emett and Exton do some hockey drills on the frozen lake in front of us.
“Yeah, I do,” I agree. “Even if he’s a small menace at times who is determined to embarrass me into the ground.” This morning a clear testimony to that statement.
As soon as Exton and Electra opened their front door, my son lost all the manners I tried to teach him over his four years of life. I swear, if he could he’d move in with them right here and now and follow one of his favorite hockey players everywhere like a puppy, day and night.
Emett’s high-pitched laugh reaches us where Electra and I are sitting at the edge, covered in blankets. Her on her wheelchair, me on a camping chair Exton managed to find somewhere in the garage. I smile, my heart filling with joy and warmth at seeing him this happy—even when he’s embarrassing me.
A smile that hitches at my friend’s quiet words. “That’s what you wanted to talk to me about that day, wasn’t it?”
