Page 103 of Icing Hearts

“Okay.” She shakes her head again, like she’s not getting how this is a big deal. She thinks this is the long and short of it. “That’s. Wow. What would have happened if your dad didn’t do that?”

Her questions are normal. Questions anyone would be asking. But they aren’t the right questions.

“Honestly, I’m not sure. I don’t know how seedy the people who run the OTB place are.”

“So, that was nice of your dad then?”

I force my breath through gritted teeth. The only person I hate more than her father is my own. He started this stupid feud.

“My dad isn’t nice. He does stuff like that. Favors for people in power so they’re indebted to him. To keep them off his back. It’s all a big chess game to him and getting rid of the chief’s debt gave him the upper hand. But, it didn’t work, Clara.”

“How…how did it not? I mean, your dad is living quite a life, and it doesn’t seem like there are any repercussions.”

“My dad struck back. Let’s just say, he doesn’t respond well to threats or having his ego bruies. Then, yours did. They went back and forth. Minor things. Then, your dad arrested one of my dad’s men. A low-level guy. It was a message.

“So my father tasked one of his men with sending a message back. A serious one that would end things once and for all. He wanted to scare the chief out of ever coming for my dad again.” A shaking breath rattles from my mouth. I nervously swipe my thumbs across the tops of her hands. Over and over. “But there was a mistake.”

Her jaw goes slack. Clara lets out a choked whisper. “Tory…don’t.”

The look that I’ve been waiting for settles across her face. Tears spring from the corners of her eyes. Her head jerks to the side ever so slightly.

“Your mom got in the car. It shouldn’t have been her.”

“No…” Her hands release mine She takes a step back. Away from me.

I keep talking. Keep explaining. As if that will help. As if it will make anything even remotely better. “Anyone in law enforcement would’ve known what to do when the brakes failed. They’re trained for stuff like that. He was supposed to drive to the station. It’s mostly flat from your house. The chief would’ve just pulled off into a curb and gotten the car towed or something. Your dad wouldn’t have died. It was only supposed to scare him. Your mom wasn’t supposed to take the car and it shouldn’t have gone down a hill.”

“I thought…I thought you were going to teach me to ice skate,” she whispers. Then she doubles over, turns away from me, clutches her arms around her stomach. Drops to her knees.

I follow, kneeling beside Clara and move to wrap my arm around her shoulders, desperate to stop her from shaking.

“Don’t touch me!” she screams, shoving me sideways.

It’s not enough. I wish it was, but I barely move. I wish she was strong enough to bowl me over—to smash my head into the ice. Cold bites through my jeans as melting ice seeps through to my knees.

Suddenly, she turns and hugs me, arms tight around my neck, fists twisting the back of my fleece jacket. Her mussed hair gets caught in my chin stubble.

“I don’t want to let go,” she whispers through her tears. “I don’t—I don’t think I can ever look at you the same again.”

A choked sob bubbles up, and I catch it before it spirals into a string of uncontrolled wails.

“My level of selfishness is unmatched. I held onto this as long as I could in order to delay the inevitable. I’m so sorry, Clara. I’ve failed you in every way.”

“Not every way, Tory. Just the one that mattered. Everything I believed about my mother’s death was a lie. And you knew.”

“I’m so sorry. I was going to tell you at the tournament but—”

“But…nothing. You had a year!” Her scream reverberates around the rink—the sound sharp and guttural. She turns to leave, but I stop her.

“Wait. I need you to listen to me Clara. Listen. I know you’re upset. But you cannot, under any circumstances, tell anyone about this. Do you understand me?”

She nods.

“Clara, look at me.” I take her face in my hands and hold it firmly, despite her resistance. I say the words. Like how doctors have to say the words “they died” when they tell families their loved ones are gone. I say the words so she knows exactly what will happen if she tries to report this. “If you say anything, to anyone, he will kill you. And if I somehow get to you before he does, I will take you, and we will disappear, and we will never come back. Whether you want to go or not. You won’t have a choice.”

Her tears pool, wedging in the nonexistent space between my palms and her cheeks. “Tell me you understand.”

“I understand.”

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