Slowly...slowly... I lift my left foot off the clutch as I press down on the gas with my right. I’m not even breathing at this point. Daphne starts to rock a little, but I give her more gas until... Air escapes me in a laugh. “I did it!” More of the happy sound bubbles up inside me as we roll smoothly forward. I didn’t know it was possible to be this happy off the ice.
Maggie is hooting beside me, which only makes me laugh harder as I slow to make a turn toward town, knowing I won’t stall.
And then I see him walking along the side of the road. He turns toward the car as we get close and our eyes lock. My laughter dies a second before Daphne’s. An invisible fist slams into my stomach, and the last of my laughter chokes out. Guilt slithers up my legs and torso, tethering me to my seat so that I can’t look away from him.
“No worries,” Maggie says, still bouncing her shoulders in celebration. “Start her up again and...” She leans forward just as Heath Gaines’s eyes narrow at me before he turns away. “More of that famous Southern charm I’ve seen so much of since moving here. And my mom wonders why I’m happier online. Seriously, who even is that?”
Considering Maggie and her mom just moved to Telford, she might be the only person in our entire town who’d have to ask that question, which is one of the many reasons I don’t tell her the truth. If I did, I’d have to tell her about Jason. She knows I have an older brother, but to hear my mom talk about him, you’d think he was away at college instead of where he really is. I hate lying to Maggie, even indirectly, but I’d hate even more for the truth to drive her away.
“No one I know.” That isn’t technically a lie, but it’s so far from the truth that I can’t look at Maggie when I say it. I add something about not wanting to push my newfound understanding with Daphne too far in one day, and since I still need to go by the rink to pick up my paycheck, we end up at her house just as thick gray clouds start rolling across the sky.
“Yuck,” Maggie says, looking at the approaching storm. “That’s gonna hit before you can get home. Why don’t I come and drive you home afterward, in case it gets ugly?” She brightens. “Then I can drive the Zamboni while you grab your check.”
I nod, looking at the clouds with my own frown and absently saying, “Sure, if you want me to lose my job.”
Maggie makes a show of wrestling with indecision before sighing in defeat. Normally, I’d laugh at her, but I’m still looking at the sky and the last thing I want to do is laugh. “I’ll be fine. Besides, your mom would have to pick you up after.”
Maggie’s scowl is fierce but fleeting as she gets out. “Promise me you won’t total Daphne by backing into another car. Trust me when I tell you how demoralizing it is to rely on your mom for rides when you’re seventeen.”
“I’ll be fine,” I repeat. My hands tightening on the steering wheel hides a tremor that has nothing to do with driving, but Maggie doesn’t know that.
“Hey.” Maggie’s put-upon tone is gone.
I bring my gaze to hers.
“You drove Daphne, stop and start, all of it, the whole way here without stalling once. This is my impressed face.”
My smile probably doesn’t touch my eyes. “I learned from the best.”
She grins. “Shut up, baby, I know it. And besides, that’s my line.” With one last pat of Daphne’s hood, she heads inside.
I’m halfway to the rink when the first lightning bolt forks in the distance, constricting the band of guilt in my chest. I look in my rearview mirror. In my mind, I see the familiar brick red truck on the side of the road—a truck I can’t believe I drove past without cold recognition icing over me—and the guy in a sweat-drenched white T-shirt having to walk miles back to town during a thunderstorm.
And I was laughing when he saw me.
Daphne doesn’t stall once as I turn around.
Copyright © 2019 by Abigail Johnson
ISBN-13: 9781488056550
Every Other Weekend
Copyright © 2020 by Abigail Johnson
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