Page 119 of Broken Hearts
I’m strong enough to skate, to love, to give someone all of my heart—every imperfect piece. I just hope that when he comes out on the other side of this, he can accept it and accept me.
Every imperfect piece.
35
Rhett
It’s quiet at the rink. Summer camps haven’t started, and few people come in before late afternoon when school is done for the day.
“Probably feels small after all the big arenas you’ve been skating in the past four years.” My mom appears at the gate.
“Still my favorite.” I stop in front of her. “Anything you need me to do? I could help with one of the classes later?”
“We’ve got it covered.”
“I know you do, but I’m here, I might as well help.”
“You’re not on the payroll for another month.”
“Mom, come on. Let me help. I heard you and dad complaining about the coach for Ryder’s class. I can jump in there.”
“I know that you’re eager to be useful while you’re here, but that’s not why you came, and I don’t want to have to replace you if you decide to go back. If you want to help today, fine. But just for today.”
“I’m not going to up and leave you high and dry. I love this place.”
“And it will be here in a month or two when you’re ready.”
It’s exasperating not having a purpose to the day. For years it’s been school or hockey, and now I wake up each day, do whatever classwork I need to finish and submit so I can still graduate, and then come to the rink. I’m here when it opens and usually when it closes, but my mom has been adamant that I take this time for myself.
Officially, my role will be teaching private hockey lessons and working the camps. I’m excited to start. I have all sorts of plans for expanding the rink and making it better, but she’s probably right. I used Sienna as a crutch in Valley and here I’m doing the same trying to keep so busy I don’t have to really deal with it. I’ve been home for almost two weeks and still I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.
“Have you gone to see Cory and Cam yet?”
I hang my head and give it a shake. The look she gives me says more than her words ever could.
“Oh, shoot is that the time?” She glances over my head to the clock on the wall. “The repair guy still hasn’t shown up and I have to get your brother in ten minutes.”
“I’ll get him.”
She gives me that look again.
“Fine, then at least let me call the repair guy, and I will call Cory tomorrow. I promise.”
She’s out of choices and she knows it. “Invite them to dinner this week.”
“Mom, you don’t have to—”
“It’s going to be hard. Don’t make it harder than it needs to be.” She straightens. “That locker room door has to be fixed today. We have a peewee hockey game here tomorrow morning and I need a working door. If they try to put you off, call someone else.”
“I will manage. Go.”
I give up after I get three answering services and one person who says they can do it, but can’t get out until the week after next. Digging through the maintenance closet, I find tools and head off to the boy’s locker room.
The mammoth solid wood door is heavy as fuck. I’m sweating and swearing as I try to remove it from the hinges.
“Anyone here?” someone calls from the front doors.
“Hang a right,” I call and rest the door against the wall, thankful the repair guy finally decided to show his ass up. It’s probably going to take two of us to get it back on.
