Page 98 of Thin Ice

"He's going to lose it."

"I know."

"His mentor's name is on here. Third from the top. Brian Shaughnessy."

"We'll bring it to his office. First day back."

I held the trophy in my lap and felt the weight of it. Metal and wood and sixty years and a kid from the south shore sitting in a rented cabin on New Year's Day holding the thing that proved his school had been great once, that the people who rowed before him had been fast and fearless and real, and that someone had tried to erase that and failed.

Alex's breathing was slowing. His head was heavy on my shoulder. I turned and kissed his hair.

I closed my eyes.

Chapter 26: Alex

January second, and the lake was quiet again.

Noah and Priya had left New Year's Day. Hugs in the gravel lot, Noah holding me a beat longer than usual, Priya squeezing my hand and saying "call if you need anything" in the voice she used when she meant it and not when she was being polite. They drove south with the muffler dragging and I watched until the car turned onto the lake road and disappeared.

Ethan and Remy left the next morning. Remy shook my hand and held it. Ethan hugged me and said something into my shoulder I couldn't hear and then they got in the Audi and Remy's jazz started before they'd even cleared the driveway.

The cabin was empty. We cleaned it in twenty minutes. Stripped the beds, wiped the counters, took out the trash. I found one of Remy's energy drinks behind the good chair. A pink pen behind a cushion that was probably Priya's. A single marshmallow on the deck railing, frozen solid.

Liam worked at Jerry's yesterday. I stayed at the house. Read a book from his mom's shelf. Made a sandwich for lunch. Peanut butter on both slices, jelly in the center. The right way. I was beginning to understand why Liam found peace in small tasks. The bread on the plate. The knife in the jar. The routine of something simple that you could control.

Today we'd gone in together. Eight hours, eighty bucks each, cash. The Grady-White's impeller was still seized and Jerry was starting to take it personally. Liam worked on the wraps. I worked on the battery shelving. We didn't talk much. We didn't need to. The radio played through the shop window and our tools made their sounds and the rhythm of it was right.

Jerry paid us at four. Two folds of twenties. We walked home along the lake road in the dark.

Now it was evening, and we were back at the house. Linda was on a night shift. The house was quiet, just us, and we were in his bed. His back against the wall and my head on his chest, and our legs sorted out in the only configuration that worked.

We were staring at the ceiling.

I wasn't doing math. For the first time, the numbers weren't running. The tuition, the registration, the trust, the checking account. All of it was still true. All of it was still zero. But the numbers had gone quiet, and in their place was something else. Not a plan. Just stillness.

Liam's heartbeat under my ear. Steady. Slow. His hand on my back, drawing circles he probably didn't know he was drawing.

"Hey," he said.

"Yeah."

"I love you."

"I know."

"Just checking."

"You've checked four times today."

"I'm thorough."

I smiled against his chest. Closed my eyes.

My phone rang.

I almost didn't answer. I didn't recognize the number. I reached for the nightstand and looked at the screen.

"Who is it?" Liam said.