Page 94 of Breaking the Ice

He pulls into our parking lot, and the gray sky opens up and it starts to rain. Again.

Evan swears under his breath. “So much rain.”

“Seriously. April showers may bring May flowers, but rain in March just sucks.” It’s rained every day this week, which means indoor recess, cranky kids, slippery floors, and mud everywhere.

“Right?” He shakes his head, then mutters something that sounds like, “Matches my mood.”

“What?” I ask, hoping he’ll repeat himself.

“Nothing.” Reaching into his backseat, he grabs an umbrella and hands it to me. “So you don’t get wet going inside. You never seem to have one.”

He smiles, his blue eyes soft, and my heart cracks. Because I want to accept all the peace offerings he’s gifted me this week. But if I do, if I let him in, I’ll get hurt again.

“No, thanks.” I brush him off. “It’s not a long walk. Thanks for driving.”

I turn away, but not before the hurt flashes across his face. It matches how I feel, but what can I do?

“No hockey jersey tonight?” My mom raises an eyebrow at my plain sweater, and I shrug. It’s comfy, keeps me warm in the arena, and I don’t have any school spirit for the hockey team right now. I hate that I have to attend this game, but because of our social media stuff, I need to be seen here. The amount of energy it takes to fake enthusiasm about it drains me.

“You’re awfully quiet,” she says, taking another stab at conversation. We’re in the lull between the second and third periods, and the Zamboni makes lazy circles on the ice.

I sigh. “It’s been a long week.”

“Student teaching?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Teaching is exhausting, but at the same time, I love it. The smiles and hugs from kids I’ve gotten to know, their eagerness to share their lives with me. It’s about so much more than teaching them the basics of music, and while I do fall into bed totally spent each night, my heart is full. At least in my career, I made a good choice.

My mom clears her throat. “Any news about your car?”

I shake my head. “Still the same stuff from the mechanic. They are waiting on the part. The Jetta is diesel, and that’s harder to fix. So who knows how long it will be?”

“It’s nice that you have Evan to drive you around.”

What is there to say to that? Because yes, it’s convenient, but also, I have to endure every morning and evening spent in a tiny, enclosed space with him. Like our miniscule apartment is not enough. I can’t escape his piney scent, his twinkling eyes, or the way his forearms flex on the steering wheel.

Even worse is the way he has been doing sweet things for me. Offering me his umbrella, making me breakfast every morning, giving me the first crack at the hot water for a shower.

But if I cave, if I give into what I want and let myself fall again, I’m not sure I could ever recover. He put hockey first this time. What will it be next time? I thought he had changed, but I need a husband who will make me a priority. I deserve that.

I clear my throat. “Yeah, it’s nice of him.”

My mom glances around the arena as the clock counts down and fans start to trickle back to their seats, laden with soda cups and trays of nachos. “You wanna get out of here?”

“What?” I gesture towards the scoreboard. “Don’t you want to know who wins?”

She shrugs. “I have faith in them. Plus, I’ll read the recap on my phone before your dad gets home, and he’ll never know the difference.”

“Doesn’t that bother you?” A quick flame of anger lashes through me. “That you show up here and he doesn’t even know?”

“I love watching hockey and talking about it with your father.” She gives me a half smile. “It also means if I want to duck out early, he’ll forgive me.”

My mouth drops open. “You like it?”

“Sure.” She stands and shoulders her purse. “I couldn’t have married a hockey coach if I didn’t. It’s what we first bonded over, actually. What do you think we get up to when you’re not home?”

“Ew, Mom, I don’t want to know.”

She laughs and grabs my hand, tugging me out of my seat. “Not that. We watch hockey together. Game film and NHL teams. Now let’s go. I need some ice cream.”