Page 63 of Icing Hearts

“How’d you know?”

“I cried too.”

I use my grip on her hand to help her to her feet.

“You didn’t want to have someone on duty bring you home?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “I’m only comfortable with a few of the officers. They’re older and we’ve known each other for years. They watched me grow up. The new officers, I don’t know from a hole in the wall.”

I’m tempted to tell her Paulman is someone she could trust to bring her home, but I’m not even sure of that myself. “Well, I’m always around if you need me, and I like to drive.”

“Thanks, Tory.”

“Can I watch you read chapter fifty-five?”

“No way. I’ve heard all about that chapter.”

“Oh please, Clara. Don’t deny that we’ll be tandem reading spicy books together in the not-so-distant future.”

“I will admit to no such thing.”

We spend the rest of the drive talking about the love story detailed in the book on her lap. When a book means something to you, it’s hard to put it away. So I understand why it’s on her lap and not stowed in her backpack. At each stoplight, I watch the red glow turn to green against her cheekbones. I don’t bother watching the lights. I just watch her, the change in hue upon her skin telling me when to go.

Her house windows are black and the place is empty. No sign of life to be found. Not even a motion-detected security light. Without her dad around, she has no one. She never talks about any other family members. No grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins. A thought takes form in my head, and I ask the question before I have time to second-guess myself.

“Hey.” I stop her from exiting my car both with the word and with my hand that has found its way to the space between her knuckles and wrist. She sinks back into the seat and closes the door, sensing that this “hey” is meant to be more than a parting word. “Do you guys do anything for Thanksgiving?”

She looks out the front window, at the lifeless, cold house. Cold in all senses of the word. Oppressive when compared to the glowing homes lining the street. “Um…” She trails off, pausing, deciding what to share. How much to share. It’s a straightforward question. No one would need to think about the answer, unless they didn’t want to share the answer. “No. No, not really. The first year, we kinda tried, but it wasn’t the same. Last year, the chief got himself scheduled to work. It was easier that way. There was an excuse. He’s working again this year.”

“Come to my house. I’ll pick you up.”

“Tory, I don’t want to crash your family dinner.”

“Stop right there. We get it catered. And it’s not just family. My dad’s four friends and their families all come over. There’s a bunch of kids and my niece. It’s fun, but it’s not like a close-knit family thing.”

What I don’t tell her is that two of my dad’s “friends” are bodyguards, and the other two are business associates. Black Friday is a big day for them, and they always have work to do on Thanksgiving. It’s easier for them to sneak off into the office if they’re already at our house with their families.

“What if Vince asks me to come over for Thanksgiving?” she says.

I shrug, toying with the set of keys in my lap. “Then you’ll have a choice to make, Charity.”

She huffs a laugh. “Thanks, Tory. Seriously.”

My tone is far more casual than I feel when I say, “Anytime.” What I want to say is, all the time. Clara, you can be with me all the time. Every day. All day.

But I can’t. So, I don’t.

Before she slides out of the seat, she leans in. For a moment, I’m convinced Clara’s coming in for a hug and devising ways to stretch it out—make it last. Instead, she flips my tag back inside the collar of my shirt, clucks her tongue and reaches for the door handle.

Chapter 37

Clara

One week later and I’m wearing a hole in the floor of my room. Vince half-heartedly asked if I had plans today an hour ago. This was three texts before he mentioned that his mom ran into his ex-girlfriend at Target and invited her over. Whenever he talks about her, I feel like I’m intruding somehow. I don’t want tickets to that show.

But do I take Tory up on his offer? On the one hand, he certainly seemed sincere. But on the other, it feels inappropriate to go to someone’s house on a major holiday when you’ve spent virtually no time with their family.

Maybe I should stay home and watch TV. The cable is out, but I had enough money to cover the Wi-Fi bill this month. Plus, I have a stack of books I want to read. But Tory has the last book in theShatter Meseries, and I really want to read it.

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