Page 88 of Heat It Up (Off the Ice)
I pour every emotion storming inside me into the kiss, wishing it’s enough to take away all the pain Ian caused Kyle. Wishing it’s enough to turn back time so that somehow I can change the past, even if it means I never would have met him. Even if it means Gabby would be the one making love to him instead of me.
But no amount of kissing or wishing will make it come true.
Breathless, I pull away. “I’ll talk to you later.” I scramble out of the car before he can say anything, and crutch my way to my bus stop.
My bus isn’t here yet. I sit down on a bench and call Claire as Kyle’s car pulls away.
“Hey, what’s up?” she asks.
An elderly woman walks up to my bench and I move my crutches so she can sit next to me. The benches on either side are occupied with teens talking and texting. “I need you to look up something for me.”
“Sure what?”
“The victims of Ian’s accident. Did the media release their names?”
“I think so. Give me a second and I’ll tell you.”
It takes more than a few seconds. While I wait, I listen to the muffled sounds of whatever dance song is playing in the background.
“Here it is. They did release the names.”
“What were they?”
“Ian, of course. The two other dead victims were Samantha Green and Gabriella Bennett.” A chill creeps through me at the second name.
“What about the survivor? What was his name?”
Silence hangs over me for what feels like an hour before she whispers, “Oh my God.”
“What?” I ask even though I know what she’s going to say.
“Morris Handover, general manager of the Minnesota Bears, has confirmed that right wing Kyle Bennett is listed in serious condition.”
I close my eyes, and what’s left of my world that hasn’t already crashed in on me does so now. Kyle lost everything because of Ian. His wife. His beloved hockey. His life, so to speak. Everything.
I sniff, and work hard to keep the sob hovering near the surface from breaking loose. I want to say something, anything, but the words are unable to form. I can only stare at the dried piece of gum on the ground a few feet ahead of me.
“Kyle Bennett,” Claire says. “That’s your Kyle, isn’t it?”
I nod even though she can’t see me.
“Sofia?”
“Yes, that’s him.” My voice comes out as a cracked whisper.
“Does he know Ian was your ex-boyfriend?”
I let my head drop forward, the weight of the truth too heavy for it. “He knows my ex cheated on me, but I never told him anything more than that.”
“Are you going to tell him?” she asks, the sound of her voice a warm hug from a million miles away.
“I can’t,” I choke back. “He’ll hate me.”
“Why? It was Ian who hit him. You weren’t even in the vehicle.”
My ribcage feels like it’s trapped in a vice, and someone is slowly tightening it, preventing air from entering my lungs. Crushing my heart in the process.
My bus pulls up to the stop. “I have to go. My bus is here.” I hang up before she can say anything else, and I wipe away the tears, grateful that the elderly woman next to me probably didn’t understand a word I said to Claire.
