Page 79 of Lighting the Lamp
“You don’t have to fix it all at once,” she says, her thumb brushing over mine. “You just have to be honest about what you want. Even if it terrifies you.”
I nod slowly, tears burning hot at the corners of my eyes. “It does.”
“I know, but love that costs you your sense of self isn’t love. What you had… what you still have, if you want it, didn’t take from you; it was mirroring you.
I swallow hard. The cup is warm in my hands, but it’s her words that thaw something deep inside me. Maybe I’m not lost; maybe I’m just learning how to come home to myself without closing the door on someone who wanted to walk with me the whole way.
“I feel like I left pieces of myself on the other side of that door with him.”
Ramona, who’s been quiet until now, finally moves closer and rests her head against my shoulder. The familiarity cracks something wide open in me.
“You’re not the only one unraveling,” she says gently. “He’s out there smiling at kids like it doesn’t hurt, but I see it. So do you.”
I glance at the rink, watching Beau skate across the ice with effortless grace, but even that feels off. Every movement is too precise. There’s tension in his jaw, a heaviness in his posture ashe crouches to demonstrate a drill. Then he lifts his water bottle, takes a sip, and coughs. It happens only once, but the sound is sharp and sudden. No one else reacts besides me because I can feel it in my bones, my chest. I know that cough, that same tightness. I know the way he hides it from everyone.
“He hasn’t texted,” I whisper again.
“You told him to give you space, and he respected that.” Ramona leans in closer, her voice softer now.
“But he’s still here, fixing things at the rink, leaving me snacks, and bringing me coffee. He just keeps going through life as if there’s nothing wrong. Hell, he’s still coaching even though he doesn’t have to be.”
“He’s still showing up,” Michele says softly.
“And it’s killing me.”
Ramona shifts so she’s fully facing me now, eyes narrowed in that way she gets when she’s trying not to yell at me out of love. “Do you want him to stop?”
“No. I told him to stay away, and he did, but he’s still loving me from across the room like it’s the only way he knows how.”
“You’ve always made things harder for yourself than they needed to be.” Ramona lets out a breath.
“Gee, thanks,” I mumble.
“You’re scared, and that’s fine. But don’t confuse fear with fact. He’s not running. You are.”
Her words sting because they’re true. She’s known me long enough to see through every mask I wear.
“Maybe it’s time to meet him halfway.”
“I’m not sure I can,” I say, and my voice cracks. “What if I open the door and he’s not standing there anymore?”
“Then we bring a sledgehammer,” she says fiercely. “And we tear the damn wall down.”
“With wine,” Michele chimes in, reaching for my other hand and squeezing it. “And snacks. You know, for morale.”
I blink hard, my chest aching so much I can barely breathe.
“You didn’t break him, Alise,” Michele says gently. “But you walked away. If that was really the right choice, you wouldn’t be sitting here, watching his every move like you’re trying to memorize him before he disappears.”
Beau blows his whistle again, calling for one last lap. His voice is firm but quiet. His shoulders curve slightly, but he doesn’t even glance at the stands. He hasn’t once this entire time, and somehow, that’s what shatters me.
I’m the one who told him not to look back, and he listened. Now, every time he doesn’t, it feels like I’m the one being left behind.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Beau
The door to the rink slams shut behind me, and for the first time in weeks—hell, maybe months—I feel like I can finally breathe. The cold hits my face, sharp and clean, stinging my cheeks like a wake-up call I didn’t know I needed. I step onto the ice, and my lungs open wide like they remember exactly where they belong.
