Page 59 of On the Slopes of Tahoe
“Okay, but what about your job with the resort? What are you going to do when Breck comes back here?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Wes,” I say, and he startles back from the phone at my tone. “Sorry, mate. It’s just that she’s not a kid. She’s not quitting her job… at least not as far as she’s said, and obviously she knows this is temporary, but it’s better than the alternative. You know how talented she is. Are you really telling me she should’ve given up on her dream because your parents were trying to bully her?”
“No—I—that isn’t what I’m saying. I’m just trying to process.” He runs a hand through his hair and heaves a sigh. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply you don’t know what you’re doing. I just want what’s best for you, and this is a lot of change at once.”
“I’m okay, really. Or I will be. I’ll be using this time to find a place of my own for when Breck and Willow leave, but for the next month, I’m going to take advantage of his”—she shoots me a wink over her shoulder—“business brain to get this thing up and running. I’ll figure out the rest as I go.”
“Okay.” He still sounds a little skeptical, but he doesn’t push any more. “If you need anything, you’ll tell me, right? I don’t like that I’ve been in the dark.” His eyes fall and he sounds a little wounded. “You’re supposed to tell me this stuff.”
“I know,” she says, her voice low. “But you just—you haven’t been here. I know that’s not fair. But it’s hard to explain it all when you’re not here to see it.” She glances at me again. So does her brother, and I think he sees it. There’s something sad in his features when he looks away from me and back to his sister. The sister who’s been coming to me instead of him for the last month.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Rory
Ipull my laces tight, tying them around the tops of my ice skates, then slip the lens cap off my camera and snap some pictures of the rink that sits in the middle of the Empyreal Resort village. Strings of Edison bulbs crisscross above me, casting an amber glow on the shiny ice. Fire pits and Adirondack chairs surround the entirety of the rink for merry-watchers and parents to relax while the skaters move and glide along the ice… or slip and fall.
Breck sidles up close to me at the railing, his solid shoulder pressing against mine. My body responds by leaning into him, even though it shouldn’t. It can’t… not with Willow standing just on his other side. His features are illuminated under the lights, the golden hues in his hair sparking brighter. When a long strand falls in front of his face, I push my hands deep into my pockets to keep from brushing it back.
“Ready?” he asks. Willow stands next to him in a pair of white figure skates that match mine and stand out in contrast to his black hockey skates.
“Yup, let’s go.”
He reaches for Willow’s hand and they walk stiffly on their skates to the opening of the rink. A few skaters have started cutting large ovals around the ice while others cling to the boards, their feet splaying about like baby deer learning to walk. Willow balances precariously on her blades, squeezing the life out of her dad’s hand, but you’d never know from the easy smile on his face.
We made it through our first weekend in the new place as roommates, so tonight we’re celebrating with this little excursion to the skating rink. We’re also celebrating Breck’s new job title—as homeschool dad. He spent much of the past week on the phone with Willow’s school back in Sydney, working out the best way for her to study remotely for the next month. He’ll be working off the same curriculum, keeping pace with her class, to ensure she’s where she needs to be when they get home.
I maneuver around them and turn to skate backward. “So, Bug, are you excited to start school next week?”
“I can’t wait. I get to do school in my pjs every day!”
I chuckle, understanding her glee.
“What about you?” I ask Breck, whose posture is relaxed as he glides along.
“Being a teacher will be a new challenge for me. At least it’ll keep me busy though, and we can take snowboarding breaks, right, Willow Bear?” She nods up at him, a big dimpled grin on her face. Her eyes shine with love for her dad.
“It’s like PE, butbetter,” I chime in and Willow giggles, melodic and sweet.
“Just like ice skating,” he says, taking in the rink that is growing busier by the minute.
I lift my camera and the snick of the shutter draws their attention, allowing me to capture their matching smiles. I also capture their crash. Willow leans back too far, pulling them both onto their butts. I let my camera fall into its strap around my neck and surge forward. There’s nothing but the sound of laughter—boisterous and joyful—coming from where they’re sprawled.
“You know? I was just thinking you’re a natural at everything, but maybe I was wrong,” I joke, needling Breck, who grins back at me. He rights himself quickly, then we each grab a hand to get Willow standing again, and neither of us lets go as we resume a slow pace around the rink.
“It’s not my first time on skates,” Breck says, “but it has been a while.”
“When did you go ice-skating Daddy?” Willow asks—always full of questions.
“I used to go every winter when I was your age.”
“With Grandma and Grandpa?” Breck’s face softens at her question. He’s mentioned them a few times, usually in reference to learning to snowboard. I know they passed in a car accident when he was young, but not much else. I like that even though Willow never got to meet them, she still knows who they are.
“Yeah, Willow Bear, with Grandma and Grandpa. Then I went with my aunt and uncle when they took me to the mountains,but it was much less frequent. I think the last time I was on the ice was in college. I went on a date to a local skating rink.”
“With Mommy?” Willow asks. It’s a casual comment, but her face falls a fraction. The moment stands still, and I wonder how best to disappear into the background. It’s a question she likely would’ve asked with ease a couple months ago, but there’s a quiet wetness gathering in her eyes now.
Breck shakes his head and clears his throat. “No, uh—no, it wasn’t.”
