Page 19 of Two Weeks in Tahoe

We line up, and Layla counts down with a suspenseful tone, playing into the whole thing. I almost miss the “go” because I’m too busy watching and admiring her. The way her ridiculously long, dark hair is blowing in the slight breeze, the way her strong legs look while she moves on her skates…

I take off at a fast pace to catch up—I can’t make it too easy for him—and then at the very end, he wins out by inches. I feign disappointment and congratulate him on a well-fought race.

“You just need to keep practicing. You’ll get faster, Uncle Liam,” Jackson chirps, reaching up to give my bicep a reassuring pat.

“Great job, Big J,” Layla shouts as she skates up to us, high fiving him and flashing him a grin. She pats my bicep in the same spot that Jackson did, giving me a look of mock pity. “Great effort, Liam. Maybe you’ll get him next time.”

Her touch lingers on my bicep a little longer and we share a quiet look. A quick thrill flows through me at her touch, and I clear my throat. Jackson is standing beside us, watching.

“How about some hot chocolate?” I ask.

“Yeah!” Jackson exclaims.

“And coffee?” I ask Layla.

“Definitely coffee,” she replies, appearing grateful and eager.

We get in the short line and listen to Jackson’s dramatic retelling of both of our races, describing how hard we both fought and how he edged us out. Layla and I exchange smiles, sharing a secret—knowing we both let him win.

When it’s our turn to order, Jackson requests a hot cocoa with extra whipped cream, Layla orders a black coffee, and I get the same. She glances at me as I copy her order, and I return the glance with a tight-lipped smile.

“Thank you,” she says as I scan my card to pay, her voice gentle, her eyes going distant for a moment.

“You’re welcome.”

We find seats at an empty table with heating posts nearby. Layla holds her steaming cup of coffee like it’s her lifeline, her arms tucked in tight.

“Cold?” I ask.

“A little. But this is helping,” she gestures to her cup and the heating posts.

“Moving around out there definitely helps. As soon as you stop moving for too long, it hits you hard.”

“Definitely,” she agrees, taking a sip of her drink. It must not be too hot because she doesn’t react.

I follow her lead and take a sip also. It’s the perfect temperature. The taste isn’t anything amazing, though.

“Not bad,” I comment.

Across the table, Jackson is lost in his hot chocolate. I chuckle at the dollop of whipped cream on his nose but don’t say anything.

“Not bad at all for ice rink coffee.” She nods in agreement.

“So, how long are you in town for?” I ask.

“Well, I have the cabin booked until just after Thanksgiving, so a little over two weeks. But I might stay a little longer, depending on how I feel. I talked to the owner and they’re willing to let me extend my stay if I choose to—as long as they don’t get any other bookings.

“And you don’t have to be back for work or anything?”

“No, not really,” she pauses, not elaborating on the work thing. “I just needed a change of scenery…a break from everything. And I love it here.”

“So…You’ve been here before? Do you visit often?” I press, curious about why a woman in her twenties is here by herself for several weeks.

“Yes…” she gives me a sidelong glance. “I’ve been coming with my family for years. My parents always loved it here.”

Just as I’m about to respond, I hear a child’s voice yell, “Jackson!” It’s his buddy Xavier, running up to him. They chat for a moment while Xavier’s parents stand nearby and wave. I know them a little since he and Jackson are in the same class at school.

“Can I go skate with Xavier?” Jackson pleads.

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