Ink and Ice, Erin McRae [primary phonics .txt] 📗

that I got there is the only reason I can live with myself now.”

“Okay.” Aaron took a moment to digest that.

Once he had, the way forward seemed as clear as it had when he had first heard the news from Huy. The island would still be here after this season. His family would still be here. But he only had one chance at this season. No matter what the cost, he had to take it.

“Okay,” he said again, committing to the only decision that now made sense. “I still need to get through the next few days. And work with my family to figure out how to fill the gap I’ll be leaving. But I’m going to get out of here Tuesday morning and I will see you at the rink on Wednesday.”

“Good.” Katie sounded pleased. “Once you have your flights, text Brendan and we’ll pick you up.”

“Are you sure? I can get the bus, or a car service or whatever—”

Katie laughed. “If you’re coming back to work early, that means we’re all coming back to work early. You want to get in the game now? That means talking and making a plan. Otherwise there’s no reason for you to be running away from your family up there. Right?”

Katie was always a hardass about people keeping their lives in order off the ice. It cut down on distractions and made for good habits, she said. Aaron agreed in principle, but thought it was a little funny coming from someone who, when she had been competing, was legendary for being kind of a mess.

“Right,” he agreed.

“We’ll pick you up and we’ll have lunch and we’ll talk. Or rather, we’ll have the first of what is going to be a long series of conversations because there’s what you want, what you can have, and the options in between,” Katie said. In the background, someone chuckled.

Which reminded Aaron that she had a whole life he was upending with his own desperate need to do the impossible. “Thank you. Sorry if I interrupted.”

Katie shushed him. “Don’t worry about it. Do what you need to do there and we’ll see you in a few days.”

“Okay. Thanks.” Aaron was about to say goodbye and pull the phone away from his ear when Katie’s voice pulled him back.

“And Aaron?”

“Yeah?”

He could hear the smile in her voice. “Good boy.”

AFTER HE FINISHED TALKING to Katie Aaron sat at the end of his family’s dock for a long time, lying back and looking up at the stars. He knew he should go to bed; he had to be up at five to ride back to South Bass Island with everyone else for the morning shift. But he couldn’t bring himself to go back to the house. Now that he’d started planning to leave, all he could think about was the summer nights under the stars he wouldn’t have here, lulled to peace and restfulness with the soft slap of the waves on the shore. He could leave, and he would survive, but missing this place would still hurt. No matter the choice he made, there would be a price to pay. That was the nature of skating—and, he suspected, most of life.

Eventually he became aware that the soft sound he was hearing wasn’t some nighttime creature, but footsteps. Ari’s.

“How was it out front at the restaurant tonight?” she asked as she sat down next to him. “I didn’t ask before.”

“Eh.” Aaron tried to think that far back. It had only been a few hours ago, but already it seemed like a separate lifetime. “Not bad. Only had to toss out one drunk and rowdy dude.”

There was the soft tap of foam on wood as she kicked off her flip flops and dangled her feet in the water.

“Sorry you had to deal with that crap,” she said.

“You’ll have to deal with it when I’m gone,” he pointed out.

“I always do, when you leave. And you always leave before the end of the season here,” Ari said, that strange blend of easy and resigned about her role as always.

Aaron never stopped feeling guilty about it. How could he, when every one of his own career choices had been made with an eye to his own advantage, never mind how that left the rest of his family? Especially now. Especially with what he’d told Katie.

They were silent for a few long moments. The evening was calm, and the lake rippled in the moonlight. The quiet hiss and rush of water tossed tiny pebbles about as little wavelets crested on the beach.

“So you’re going back,” Ari finally said.

“Yeah.” There was no use demurring. “Were you listening?”

“Always. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” Aaron said. It wasn’t like she could come with him.

“I bet you’ll miss hooking up with all the cute tourists, too,” she teased.

“I don’t hook up with them! I merely flirt with them.” He couldn’t believe they were talking about this, but it was better, he supposed, than addressing any of the actual repercussions of the departure he was planning.

“Because you live with your family and have nowhere discreet to take them?”

Aaron chuckled. “Well, yeah.”

Ari laughed. “You’re strange. And should have better taste than to settle for a mainlander.”

“If you happen to encounter an eligible islander that we haven’t known since we were babies, be sure to let me know.”

They grinned at each other and the old terrible joke that was forever true.

Ari’s expression sobered, and she looked at her feet in the water. “When are you leaving?”

“Tuesday. Mom and Dad don’t know yet; we still have to talk about it. But I can still come back for some of the busier weekends,” he offered, though he knew it made no sense.

“You won’t,” she said, that same even tone. There was no blame in it, but Aaron flinched anyway.

“Well, I’ll try.”

“You really think you can make the team?”

“I don’t know,” Aaron confessed. “If I did, if I was sure, I wouldn’t hesitate to go.”

“You don’t seem like you’re hesitating now.”

“Not