Page 187 of Ice Mechanic

“You’re welcome.”

Another nurse appears and takes April’s dad a little to the side, inspecting him for injuries.

April eyes me uneasily. “What are you…” She shakes her head and then says instead, “Where did you find him?”

“There’s a path outside the west gate that leads to a hidden grotto. It’s close enough that he can walk without getting too tired and needing his wheelchair. He took me there when we visited him last time. He said no one knew where it was so they never bothered him.”

April seems shocked. “He was on the property the entire time?”

“I checked that area first just in case, but I didn’t think he’d actually be there. Did the cameras not pick it up?”

“The cameras were down and there were construction workers in the garden. One of them admitted to leaving the gate open so everyone assumed dad had gone in that direction.”

I’m trying to listen, but only half of me is engaged. It takes patience not to step closer to her. To brush her hair away from her face. To hold her hand and give it a squeeze.

She looks as exhausted as I do. It grieves me to see her so torn up about her dad. Or maybe it’s not just her dad. I bet there are other things on her mind.

“Miss Brooks, would you like to come with us?” Another nurse asks, gesturing to a long corridor. “The doctor is waiting.”

April speaks to me without meeting my eyes. “I’ll go with them.”

“I’ll wait for you,” I assure her.

I watch as April and the nurses escort her dad away.

When they’re gone, a thick and pressing silence fills my ears. I realize I’m being stared at by a large group of elderly men and women.

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be out there?” A gruff old man points to the television screen that’s turned to the sports channel.

My lips quirk. “Yes.”

“Then why are youhere?” Another asks.

I contemplate how to answer that. “Because my future is here.”

“What future?” An older woman croaks.

It feels like I’m being grilled by the most determined journalists in the world.

“That’s a secret.” I wink.

A woman waddles up to me and leans in. She smells of coffee and saltines. “Is April pregnant?”

I jerk back in shock. “No, she isn’t.”

The woman gives me a disbelieving look, but I’m spared from her questions when a shout goes up from the crowd.

“Someone’s talking!”

“They’re announcing it now!”

The sweet grandmother shuffles away from me on her walker. On the TV screen, a PR manager stands behind the mike and delivers a word salad of platitudes about the league and their hopes for the upcoming season.

I watch it with a wry grin.

Derek, Derek, Derek.I told my ex-agent I wouldn’t be at the press conference and he insisted that he would wait.

‘You’ll change your mind about firing me. There’s no way I’m cancelling the press conference.’

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