Page 20 of At the Edge with You

I somehow had forgotten how much peace this place brings me. It was where I ran to hide when my parents overwhelmed me, asking me to be more than I could be. This is my place to skate, to exist as myself.

It’s my home.

Together, Kitty and I head toward our destination. The south rink is where rec league hockey is played. It’s been that way since I was old enough to skate. It’s where everyone learns to skate, but also where adult men come to play like they’re in the NHL and not a beer league in the South. The entrance to the south rink holds the Beer League Cups for each league. Think the amazing and beautifully designed Stanley Cup, but made of beer cans with plaques for the teams that won hot-glued to each can. There is a cup for each league—C League being for beginner adults, B League for intermediate, and then A League for the wash-ups who didn’t make it pro and are living out their glory days beating the shit out of one another before seeing one another at work the next day.

Tonight is an A League game, which is why the parking lot is full and the lobby is buzzing. Our town turns out for their local heroes—and, of course, for the gossip. As I walk in with Kitty, her hand tucked into my arm, I carry our blankets. Everyone stops and waves, wishes Kitty well, and then looks me over. I’m unsure if they’re staring at me because I looked like a busted can of biscuits when I was running toward Grandpa’s funeral or because I haven’t been here in years.

Either way, my skin tingles.

I hate the way this town stares at me. I feel like, because of how my parents hold themselves, feigning perfection as they run the town and help Smokey Bear prevent forest fires, I have to do the same. I know if I don’t keep up the appearance they do, they’ll come down on me. I don’t know why I’m still scared of that at my age, but I am. I hate it too. It’s exhausting trying to be their perfect version of me.

Because holding in all this crazy is a full-time job.

When we reach the doors to the south rink, I notice that someone has made a memorial for Grandpa. A huge photo ofhim with the cup above his head while he roars with excitement meets me, leaving me breathless. It’s from two years ago, and he looks so damn happy. So damn healthy. How is he gone? Tears burn my eyes as I look over at Kitty, whose eyes mirror mine. I know the jersey that Kitty wears is the one he wore since it’s got a tinge of yellow from years of sweat. While the one she gave me is pristine just like her. Flowers have been placed around his photo, sweet notes from friends and some from his clients. It’s very beautiful and thoughtful.

She leans into me and smiles. “That’s nice. I’m sure JT is responsible.”

Probably. I don’t say that, though, not when I’m still so annoyed with him. I can’t believe how he stormed off, how he hasn’t even reached out to me. I don’t know why he wouldn’t want to run this building with me. It’s obvious the figure skating program is nonexistent. When I was here, the pro shop was half figure skating equipment and half hockey. With one look, I can tell it’s all hockey now. I don’t know what happened, but I want to fix it.

This is my home, and it should be the home of the next Olympic hopeful.

“Want me to show you around?”

“Nah, I’m good.” I shake my head, patting her hand. “I’ll explore on Monday when I come in to meet with Jett.”

She meets my gaze. “Has he reached out?”

“Not at all.”

“Stubborn fool,” she mutters as we head in.

When we enter, a game is finishing up between my old private school, The Rink Rulers, and the town’s public school, Blades of Knowledge. Our town takes its team names seriously, and I’m pretty sure if you don’t have a cool name, you can’t play. It’s been like that since Grandpa opened the place.

I notice a few of my old teachers, who were young when I went to Thistlebrook Prep, on the rink like they’re playing game seven of the play-offs. I catch a few of their gazes, and Lord, I hope they don’t want to talk to me.

“I thought we were here for the Belles?” I ask with a sharp look at Kitty.

“They’re next.”

“You made it seem like we were late.”

She flashes me a grin, and I roll my eyes. She ignores me with ease as we head to the table she, Bea, Hazel and Maggie have that sits right behind the goal that the home team shoots on twice. They’ve had this table for as long as Bea has sponsored her teams. She has a team in all the leagues, and she doesn’t play around. She recruits people from other towns, and she’ll steal players from other teams like she’s a manager in the NHL. She’s insane but a damn good time.

When she sees us, she hops up off her chair, way too nimble for someone her age, before she wraps her arms around me, her pink hair getting caught in my lashes. I try to get it out as she kisses my cheek. “Fable, darling. How are you?”

“I’m good. You?”

She exhales hard. “Would be better if someone’s grandpa and husband weren’t throwing curve balls.”

“Who you telling?” Kitty mutters, shaking her head. “Is he okay?”

Bea exhales hard. “He’s something.” She pats my face. “I know you don’t want to be here. I’m sorry.”

“But thank you,” Hazel adds then, kissing my cheek. “It means a lot to us that you didn’t just leave when you could. Even if Jett was an ass.”

Maggie kisses my cheek, squeezing my hands. “I know he seems like a bit of a jerk, but he really isn’t. He’s such a good boy.”

He threw a fit like a little boy, that’s for sure, but I keep that to myself. “As badly as I don’t want to be here, I can’t leave this chick.” I hook a thumb toward Kitty. “Legally or figuratively.”

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