Page 13 of Fate on the Ice

I’m sure I’ll end up telling them all eventually, but to me, it’s really important that they know me for me before they find out what I’m accused of. Before they find out what kind of man I allowed in my life, in my bed. Because I know that if I were hearing that about someone, I would judge them, even if just a little.

“Are you going to answer it?” she asks.

Shaking my head, I clear my throat and think about answering her but decide against it. “Not right now. I’m working.”

She snorts but doesn’t say anything. The woman in her chair comments, though, and she has plenty to say. I can’t help but smile at her words. I’m not sure if she meant them to be sweet, but they are to me.

“Let her ignore the call. Trust me when I tell you, there are plenty of calls you have to take that you don’t want to in life. Don’t take them if you aren’t required. Forget the assholes.”

Smiling, I dip my chin in a nod, but then I hear June call out my name. Shifting my attention back to her, I give her a smile. But my smile fades as soon as she speaks. I don’t think what she says comes from a bad place at all. I just think I’m not ready to be vulnerable yet or hear it.

“Those unanswered calls, they’d be a lot easier if you shared them with friends or just faced them head-on.”

Instead of telling her to screw off the way I want or telling her to mind her business, I only smile. “I’m just not there yet,” I whisper, and I don’t wait for a response.

Turning away, I sweep my way to the back of the salon. I need to be alone for just a moment. I need to be with my own thoughts and locked inside of my own head. Once I’m in the back room, I know I won’t be alone for long, mainly because this is where all the girls come to mix their color.

I lean against the wall and close my eyes, just breathing for a moment.

My phone buzzes in my apron again. I want to throw it across the room.

Shoving my hand inside the pocket, I take it out and glance down, expecting to see his name, but I’m surprised when I see Dad flashing across the front. Sliding my thumb across the screen, I hold it against my ear as I answer.

“Hey,” I say.

“You at your new job?” he asks.

Clearing my throat, I let out a heavy sigh. “I am. It’s not going to pay the bills, though. It’s minimum wage and not full time.”

I’m not sure why I feel the need to remind him of that again. I’ve told him more than once. I guess it’s mainly because I still need him to help me financially or I’ll be living in my car. I don’t want him to cut me off like my mom did.

“I know. It’s good that you got something, and maybe you’ll figure out what you want out of it.”

“What I want?” I ask.

“For the future,” he says, then he pauses. He continues in the next breath. “You never know. It’s a good trade.”

I think about his words, but as I see the women with all their beauty and creativity, I know it isn’t for me. I don’t say that, though. Instead, I just hum as my response. He grunts as his, and that’s that.

This is how we communicate, my father and me.

“Well, we have a scrimmage in a couple weeks. I hope to see you there.”

I almost laugh. That’s my father. Hope to see you in a few weeks, even though we live just a few miles from one another. And that hope to see you is at a hockey game, where he will be working, and I’ll be dozens of feet away sitting in the stands.

Classic.

It’s why I went away to college, why I never came here to visit, aside from obligatory Thanksgiving. My mother is the same. I went to her for Christmas.

And that was that as far as visits and family goes.

“I’ll be there,” I whisper.

“I’ll make sure to deposit some money in your account next week.”

He ends the call, and I’m sure I won’t hear from him again until the scrimmage, and that might just be a text or email letting me know that the tickets are at the front box office.

OTTO

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