Page 62 of Icing Hearts

So I listened.

I manufactured distance between the two of us even though it broke my heart as much back then as it does today. Because I was scared of her finding out the truth about my family.

It wasn’t until two years later that I found out what he really meant about Mrs. Larsen’s death being my dad’s fault . When I learned the full truth was so much worse than I ever could have dreamed.

Even now, it makes me sick to my stomach.

Then, when I turned sixteen, he took me on a trip and told me the truth. Told me why I’d been taught to shoot a gun when I was nine and why we’d really moved.

That’s when I asked him about what the chief had said to me about staying away from Clara. He didn’t give me any details other than this: it was an accident, but it was his fault Clara’s mom was dead.

It was around that time I’d thought Clara might just understand about my father’s work if I explained it to her. We were sixteen—old enough to know that some people did bad things to make money.

But then, he took me on that trip. And—with the weight of his admission on my shoulders—I knew Clara and I could never be together.

When I first got my license, I had followed the chief to the off-track betting place, so I wasn’t surprised when my dad told me he had a gambling problem. What did surprise me was that my dad bailed Chief Larsen out of a bind by making his debt disappear with a few hundred lines of code. No proof, no debt.

But then Chief Larsen decided to go after my dad. It was stupid and he must not have realized how powerful my father is. One of my dad’s guys was supposed to send a message. Mrs. Larsen got the message instead.

But I know the chief is reminding me that he’ll tell Clara everything—things I don’t even know myself—if I get too close. Reminding me that the truth really is that bad and that Clara will never forgive me if she knows.

Bile rises in my throat, and I choke it back down. “I got it, Chief.”

Clara doesn’t go to the party that night. Vince tells me her dad made her stay home. I kick everyone out early and sulk in my room, but not before getting absolutely obliterated.

Chapter 36

Victory

Our tutoring session today was productive. After the chief so graciously reminded me what’s at stake, I stopped doing all my work at home. Now, Clara and I have enough to focus on during sessions, that I don’t even have time to be overly friendly. But the more I think about it, the more certain I am that I need to tell Clara everything. Even if for the sole fact that I can’t live much longer with her father holding the truth over my head.

I decide not to offer Clara a ride after the team workout, and I overhear her tell Clover she’s going to wait for her dad to pick her up. When I walk by her, waiting in the glass-walled vestibule that leads out to the student parking lot, I say goodbye.

But something tells me not to leave. I move my car to a poorly lit area of the parking lot that gives me a decent vantage point to view where she sits in the vestibule. There are no benches or anything, so she sits on the floor with a book.

An hour goes by. She keeps checking the time. Makes a phone call.

Someone else walks down the six steps into the vestibule, and I know almost immediately that it’s Vince. Good. He’ll bring her home, and I won’t fall victim to her charm.

They talk for a few minutes, he gives her a side hug and a quick peck on the lips, then leaves her. I groan out loud.

See that’s the thing about Clara. You can’t rely on what she presents at face-value. Her pride won’t allow her to be honest sometimes. Vince accepts everything she says as fact. He doesn’t push deeper. So from my vantage point in the parking lot, it looks like she waves off his offer to give her a ride. But he should be looking at the time and realizing that she does need one. At least, that’s what I would do.

It gets darker.

She keeps waiting. Checking the time.

No one comes.

Finally, after another hour, I pull around and get out of my car. Should I stay away? Absolutely. What I’m about to do spells sure disaster for me. But am I going to do it anyway? Yes. Because I’m not going to let her sit here in this vestibule all night waiting for someone who doesn’t care enough to show up. It used to be easier to steer clear of my feelings for Clara. But now that I’ve let her in a little bit, it’s grown immensely difficult to keep her at arm’s length.

The salted pavement crunches under my shoes, and I fiddle with my keys. When I near the window, I stand motionless for a moment—watching her. Watching the way she moves her head while she reads. The way she’s folded her legs under herself and the drops of tears on the page. She’s crying.

My stomach twists and I’m overwhelmed with the beauty of her heart. How deeply she must feel to cry in this cold, metal vestibule over a familiar green book. The feelings from reading that exact book are fresh in my mind, and I’d imagine those same pages are stained in my own copy.

To avoid spooking her, I slip in through the door and approach within her line of vision. Clara’s eyes rise to meet mine. They brim with tears as she pulls one of her headphones free to hear me. She quickly swipes at the tears welling in her eyes and lets out a breathy little laugh.

Wordlessly, I crouch and take her hand, hook my fingers under hers and bring it to my lips. Without freeing her eyes from mine, I kiss the tears away and say, “Chapter fifty-four?”

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