Page 92 of Breaking the Ice

My hands shake as I grab my phone and scroll to my most-familiar contact.

“Mom?” My voice wavers when she answers. “I need help.”

Chapter

Forty-Four

EVAN

“Um, I guess you need a ride this morning, huh?”

“Yeah.”

That’s the first word Isabella has spoken to me since I arrived home yesterday morning. It’s been almost twenty-four hours of tiptoeing around and getting the silent treatment.

I get it. She’s pissed. I’d be pissed, too, if it was me. My stomach churns with guilt at leaving her to deal with everything by herself. It was the hardest choice I’ve ever made. I feel awful.

It was awesome of her to plan something so sweet and fun for my birthday, but I’m trying to be reliable here, to keep my commitments. And I committed to the hockey team as a freshman. I can’t let the guys down. I can’t let Coach down. There’s no way I have a future with Isabella if her dad thinks I’m irresponsible.

In trying to impress him, though, I think I ruined my chances with her. Either way, I lose.

The worst part is, I was on fire on the ice on Friday and Saturday. Two assists and a goal in the first game, and two goals and three assists in the second. We made it out of Regionals and after the Big Ten Tourney, we’ll move onto Semifinals. Coach almost smiled at me in the locker room afterwards.

Well, like, he made prolonged eye contact. Which is huge.

Was my trade-off worth it? If I could go back and do things differently, would I? Absolutely. But I’m not sure what I could change. Not take an awesome trip together? Not let her surprise me? Suggest we take my car instead? I don’t know.

Things have been frosty in our apartment. I apologized again the moment I saw her, but she only hummed in response. So I gave her some space yesterday and spent most of my time at Jonas’s place. When he asked about it, I said that she was studying for the state teacher licensure tests and needed quiet. Maybe she was, I don’t know.

She didn’t say anything when I got home and crawled into bed next to her last night, but she was there. She didn’t make me sleep on the couch, so there’s that.

Isabella throws a sandwich in her lunch box, shoulders her book bag, and grabs a to-go mug of coffee, then shifts her weight from foot to foot by the front door.

“You ready?” I ask, and she nods.

A nod. Not much, but it’s an acknowledgement.

“Um, you look nice,” I say as she climbs into my passenger seat. She has on sneakers and a long, flowy skirt with a sweatshirt proclaiming “Teacher” tucked up into it. Stereotypical, but cute.

“Thanks.”

Maybe this will be good. Trapped in a small space, it’s gotta be harder to ignore me, right?

Thunder rumbles overhead, and raindrops pelt the windshield. Great. A cold, rainy winter day.

“Have you heard from the mechanic in Tennessee?” I turn on the wipers, desperate to come up with things to talk about that won’t make things worse.

“No.” The word is short and clipped. Probably not a great topic.

“Bella, I really am sorry that I had to leave. I’m so glad you made it home okay, so⁠—”

“So the end justifies the means?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Whatever it is I’m trying to articulate, I’m doing a terrible job. I take a deep breath and collect my thoughts. “What I mean is, it really sucked. The only thing that made it okay was I knew you could handle it. You’re tough and resilient and independent. It doesn’t justify anything, but I’m so thankful for you.”

Crossing her arms, she snorts and rolls her eyes. I doubt that means she accepted my apology, so it’s time to change the subject.

“What are you doing with your students today?” Tapping the steering wheel, I peer through the rivulets coursing down the windshield.