Page 93 of All Your Pucking Secrets

The ice cream parlor is on our left, and I push the glass door open and hold it for Soraya. There’s a long line in front of the counter, so we cross the black-and-white checkered floor to join it. A collection of bubblegum-pink bar stools are positioned in front of the counter, but no one is sitting at them.

I scan the selection of ice creams, but I can’t see far enough to tell what flavors are at the other end of the cabinet.

“Echo.” Soraya’s fingertips brush my upper arm.

I turn to her. “Yes?”

She lowers her voice. “What Dad did to Tyler fucked with his head so badly that he hardly slept for months. Sometimes, he was in such a bad frame of mind that I thought he might just decide to end it all.”

“No,” I gasp, pain burning in my chest.

The world shouldn’t exist without Tyler Kinsey in it. I refuse to even imagine it.

“I’m completely serious.”

I know she is, and tears fill my eyes. “I’m so grateful he didn’t.”

“Me too. I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I just want you to understand that, sometimes, the only thing that got him through those dark times was counting down to the day he’d sign a contract with the NHL and Dad wouldn’t be able to hold our safety or your education over his head anymore.”

My brain goes blank. Is she implying that Tyler would have come for me eventually, even if his father hadn’t died? That he was biding time until he could financially support us all? What kind of person even does that?

A selfless one.

One who’s much better than I’ve given him credit for.

Certainly a better person than me.

“Excuse me, Miss?”

I jolt around. Somehow, I’m now at the front of the line.

“What would you like?” the girl behind the counter asks.

Barely able to think straight, I ask for a salted caramel swirl because Soraya mentioned it earlier and it’s the first thing to pop into my head. She orders the same, and once we have our ice creams, we slide into a pink-and-white vinyl booth near the door.

“Are you okay?” Soraya asks, her face creased with concern.

“Yeah.” I rub my temple. “Just having a hard time accepting that Tyler spent years planning for a future with me. After what happened at the prom, I assumed that none of our relationship had been real and that he wouldn’t think of me again.”

The edges of her mouth twitch. “Don’t you hate it when people make you rethink things you thought you knew?”

“Yes.” The frustration in my tone is obvious. “Because now I doubt everything that I think happened, and I can’t help wondering if I’m to blame for not seeing what was going on and helping him. You were both stuck in a nightmare situation, and I didn’t do anything about it.”

Soraya swirls a wooden teaspoon in her ice cream. She had opted for a cup, while I took a cone. “You offered to help though, didn’t you?”

“At the beginning, yes. But I shouldn’t have let him put me off.” I lick a trickle of ice cream that’s melting down the side of the cone and savor the salty sweetness.

“Then he might have pushed you away before anything between you went further,” she pointed out. “And what could you have done, really? Dad had friends in the police, at our school, and plenty of clout. I doubt you would have made a difference.”

“But we’ll never know.”

She seems unbothered. “We all have our burdens to bear. I guess that ‘what if’ is one of yours.”

“How are you so calm about this?” I ask.

“For me, it’s just the facts of life. None of it is a surprise, or new information. I’ve had time to process.” She licks ice cream off her spoon and murmurs her appreciation. “So good. I needed this.”

I nod and get to work on the ice cream before it melts all over my hands. As I eat, the anger simmers within me. Instead of going away, it builds. When I’ve had enough, I toss the rest of the cone in the bin and wipe my hands on a napkin.

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