Page 19 of My Heart Before You

She did, and she tore into the first set faster and harder than her body, weakened from months of misuse, was ready for. Surprisingly, her father didn’t complete the drill with her. When she was a kid, it was always a game. He skated next to her and Analie, every time beating them because he was older and stronger, but giving them something to shoot for, someone to chase.

Instead, he slowly skated back and forth, watching her. When she finished the first set, her heart beating harder than it had in forever, he looked her over and said, “Again.”

Nodding, she went through the whole thing a second time. Neither of them ever mentioned the drill’s carelessly titled name again. The word which so many people threw around like it was nothing. Exercise induced physical exhaustion wasn’t the tiniest bit close to the reality of the word—what it really felt like to welcome death of your own choosing.

Two young teenage boys and their laughter spilled onto the ice bringing her attention back to the rink. She finished the leg she was on and started skating fast circles now that she wasn’t alone. The local schools must have let out, and she knew the public session would crowd quickly. She got off the ice about twenty minutes later when the little kids trickled on with their parents.

As she unlaced her skates, she glanced at her phone in her gear bag, her lips rising at her father’s missed call icon. After the episode in the park and then having to work three shifts back to back, one if not all three of her family members called every day to make sure she was okay.

Today she was okay. Today she’d let herself sleep until nearly noon after yesterday’s brutal shift, and treated herself to a late lunch with Mary before coming here. As always, the sweet woman’s stories and company settled her.

Emilie slid her phone into her pants’ pocket to call her father back on the walk to the T-station. He’d given her something more than a chance to expel the anger she felt on those days he brought her to the rink. Her father gave her the first glimpse of control, that if she could control her legs, maybe she might eventually be able to handle the emotions flooding her body. He gave her something to hold onto when she felt like absolutely nothing was up to her.

Standing, she threw her bag over her shoulder and headed to the exit. The musty scent of used rental skates intensified as she neared the front.

“Hey, Emilie. Get it all in today?” The middle-aged manager of the rink was behind the counter instead of the teenager she’d shown her membership card to earlier.

“Yeah. Didn’t even knock over any small children this time.”

He barked the coarse laugh she loved.

“Ya know, we’ve got a really good women’s hockey league if you’re interested.” His Boston accent slipped into his words.

She chuckled. “I’m terrible at pretty much everything but skating, but thanks for thinking of me.”

“If you ever change your mind.”

“Thanks, Norm.” A full smile pulled at her mouth.

He grinned. “Till next time.”

As she pushed through the exit, the faintest breeze stirred the air and rustled the leaves in the trees ever so slightly. It pressed light kisses on her exposed skin in an almost imperceptible way. She allowed the fresh air to cleanse away the last of the latent emotions still lingering in her veins. As she walked down the tree-lined sidewalk, she took a moment to enjoy the exhibition above her.

Growing up she woke every day to the view of leaves, bark, and earth surrounding her parents’ house. She would stare at the leaves, mentally recording their shade for every season: the bright neon green new baby leaves in early spring, the dark, confident broad leaves of summer, the beautiful pageantry that was fall, finishing with the spindly branches in winter, sad and forlorn for having lost their clothes but waiting patiently to get dressed up again.

Most people had a favorite, but she loved them all equally.

She let out a content breath before pressing her phone to her ear.

He picked up on the first ring. “Hey, kiddo. How are you doing?”

Warmth spread across her chest at hearing his voice. “Good, Dad. How are you?”

?Chapter 8?

Pushing through the stairwell door to the fifth floor, Colin grabbed the hem of his T-shirt. When he’d wiped all the sweat out of his eyes, a familiar redhead stood knocking on his front door. Her long hair piled high in a messy bun wasn’t what gave her away as much as the pudgy baby strapped to her back in some kind of backpack/child-carrying apparatus. A bright orange beanie covered Owen’s head with a green, fabric stem from the center that matched his long-sleeve orange onesie with built in feet.

Colin should have expected one of the two of them to check in on him today, but was still surprised to see her in person this early. “Hey, Kate.”

She spun around. “There you are!”

Owen stopped mouthing the cloth strap of the carrier to squeal a hello. When she stepped back to allow him to open the door, he caught sight of the large reusable shopping bag in her hand. From the smell of it, homemade pumpkin muffins were stored inside.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Colin put his keys on the hook on the wall as he led her inside.

“I thought I’d bring you breakfast,” she said, setting the bag on the counter and her diaper bag on the floor. “It’s pumpkin season, so I made muffins. Since Max is theone personon earth that doesn’t revel in the awesomeness which is pumpkin spice, I thought I’d share them with you.”

He tried to hide the grimace that wanted to race across his face. The real reason she was here was because yesterday Max covered his shift after he threw a tantrum in the OR, pitching tools across the room and storming out of the case after his patient had bled out.

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