Page 65 of Fresh Ice
Alonso’s chest expanded, feeling like he could breathe for the first time in weeks.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Alonso seriously thought about leaving for Minnesota and telling his dad after the fact, but that would just cause more problems in the long run. Instead, he employed the same tactic he had used to move into his new apartment—informing his parents at the last minute.
It didn’t go down well. His mom was silent, but his dad had gone on the longest rant Alonso had ever witnessed, which was saying something. It had been a lot of ‘You ungrateful little…’ and ‘I leave you alone for a few months and you turn out to be like all the other useless…’
Alonso had tried to tune it out. He’d thought of Levy, of the way he’d held Alonso’s hand under the table. About the hug he’d given him afterwards, like he justknewall Alonso needed was to be touched with a little bit of tenderness.
He was returning to that. All he had to do was survive one more night of his dad, and he could escape.
Alonso had opted to pack as if he were going straight to New York, dragging some of his equipment and a lot of his clothes with him, but the flight itself was less than three hours. His muscles were tense as he travelled, some vague sense of trepidation following him everywhere, the echo of his dad’s voice.
As soon as he saw Levy waiting for him outside of baggage claim, all of that just melted away.
Alonso let himself be manhandled into a hug, a sigh of relief going through him.
His lungs and heart and the soul streaming underneath had all been pleading for this.
**********
Levy and his family lived in the north of Minnesota, by a lake small enough for only the locals to use it.
Alonso watched the scenery roll outside the car window, the fresh air whipping his hair around.
Levy cleared his throat. “You want to go straight to the apartment, or are you up for stopping by my parents? My sister wants to meet you, but no pressure. They know you’ve had a stressful few days, what with packing and everything, so they’re not expecting anything.”
Alonso let himself think about it instead of giving his knee-jerk, people-pleasing response. Hewastired, and a big part of him wanted to just hide in a room and try to fall asleep, but it was barely five in the afternoon.
It’d be nice to see Kirsten and Cynthia and Cody. After the scarring night with his dad, there was something appealing about being embraced by Levy’s family, even if it sounded exhausting.
“We can stop at your parents’ if you want. I mean, are they okay with me staying so long?”
“Dude, you were there when we told them. They were ecstatic. Pretty sure my mom would have done it herself if I hadn’t jumped in,” Levy assured him.
“Right.” Alonso hadn’t known how to react then, and he didn’t know how to react now, so he just smiled at Levy and kept quiet.
Despite Levy’s reassurances, Alonso was still nervous as they parked outside his parents’ two-story house. It was in a quiet neighbourhood filled with similar homes, trees lining the street, the fresh smell of the lake in the air.
“There he is,” Cynthia called out as soon as they stepped inside the house. You couldfeelhow lived-in it was, walls covered with family pictures, furniture of good quality but worn.
“Hey,” Alonso greeted quietly.
He was drawn into the hubbub of the home at once. Cynthia asked him a hundred questions about how he was doing, what he had eaten, how the plane ride was, how he’d slept the night before. Cody was grilling in the ample backyard, Kirsten helping him until she saw Alonso.
“Olive!” she greeted, grinning, and went to give him a hug.
Alonso had worried that, what with Kirsten being fourteen and in the midst of the teenage angst years, she’d be less welcoming in person, but he shouldn’t have worried.
It was easy to forget his worries as the night progressed. He helped with the food, was included in the conversations easily, the family’s easy laughter contagious.
By the time he and Levy were leaving, he was full and calm, the stress of the previous days sutured.
Levy’s apartment was a small, two-bedroom setup, obviously decorated by Levy’s mom—a lot of wood and soft pillows and framed photographs.
“This is nice,” Alonso complimented, smiling at Levy’s returning grin.
“Yeah? Glad you like it. Here, let’s put your gear and stuff in the spare bedroom but, uhm. No pressure, but if you want to sleep with me…”
