Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Dad pretends to crack his neck, laughing as he skates backward toward the rink’s edge. I skate after him, but maybe I show off a little. I jump back and then do an advanced slide to come to a stop. It’s an aggressive skating thing, skatepark stuff—a soul slide. I’m not sure what it’s called in hockey.
“I’m not doing that,” Dad says, chuckling. “My knees don’t bend that way.”
Logan skates over to the edge. He’s helping Mom walk up the steps in her skates to join Emma. I look at Dad and see him watching them. I heard Dad yelling the day Emma caught me on her phone, but since then, they’ve been fine together. They’ve kind of been like me and Jack. Making up for lost time, I guess.
It’s awesome to see. Dad has friends, of course, but this is different. It’s like Logan lets him show a whole other side of himself. He’s always so focused on the business. I don’t mind. It’s not like I’m a little kid anymore, needing attention constantly. Anyway, he is present when it matters, but with Logan, he’s more carefree than with everybody. He’s sillier, like my earliest memories of him.
“What do you say?” Dad says, turning to me with a smile. “Do you think you’ve got it in you, kiddo?”
“You’re going to regret this, old man,” I say jokingly.
Dad chuckles. “Old man? Okay, let’s do this.” Dad cups his hands around his mouth. “Francesca Fitzgerald, are you racing?”
That nickname always seemed super lame to me. I never told Dad or Emma that because they always acted like it was the funniest thing in the world. Then again, Emma has been writing like crazy, printing her stories, pinning them to the walls, and going a little crazy with it. Maybe it fits.
From across the rink, Emma’s laughter echoes. “Maybe give me a year, Dad.”
She doesn’t want to risk the baby. She’s getting super zoned about the pregnancy, searching for vitamins and exercises online. She said she’s looking forward to having a big pregnancy belly.
“On the count of three?” Dad says.
I nod. “One, two…”
“Three—” And he’s off.
I swing my arms, my legs springing into action, carving the ice. Dad’s just ahead of me. I overtake, and then I hear him panting and trying. I slow down just a little. Just enough to let him whoosh to a stop ahead of me near the barrier.
I laugh, shaking my head. “You got me, Dad.”
He beams, looking so happy. He deserves these moments. He’s earned them, but I’m not letting him win the next one! “Round two?” I ask, and he nods.
When we reach the other end—I’m way ahead—Dad comes to a stop with a big grin. He claps me on the arm. “I’m proud of you, Eric. You should spend more time on the ice.”
I laugh. “Not much of that back home, and thanks, Dad.”
We turn at the sound of Mom’s laughter. Logan has his arm around Emma. It looks so natural now. It’s not over the top like some people get with displays of affection. It’s normal. They look married already, not just engaged. Mom is laughing at something Emma just said.
Dad nudges me. “Round three?”
Together, we race across the ice.
EPILOGUE
ONE MONTH LATER
Emma
I adjust Logan’s collar. He reaches up and curls his hands around me. My engagement ring presses cold against my finger. I love the feeling and never want to stop noticing it. It’s a reminder of our love.
Logan looks so handsome, a light silver shadow of a beard across his jaw. His intense blue eyes are serious. We’re in California on a midweek break from Canada in our new home. There are boxes piled neatly against the wall and furniture to be assembled. It was Logan’s idea to have a house here near Mom, Dad, and Eric.
“It’s going to be okay,” I tell him.
He leans down and kisses me gently. I sink against him. It’s such a normal feeling, yet each time feels like the first, too. It feels so exciting. We fall deeply into it, warmth blooming in my chest. The men who drugged Chrissy are going to jail. Mom and Dad have given us their blessing, and Logan’s mom is on the way. He flew her out. He wanted to meet her here.
He ends the kiss and then holds me close to his chest. His gentleness contrasts the Ice Demon I watched on TV two nights ago, me and Chrissy sharing popcorn. She was cool about giving me extra since I’m feeding two.
“I know I can’t blame her for it. She was ill.”
“I think you can feel any way you want,” I tell him. “You don’t have to…”
“Downplay it,” he says, then smiles. “I know.” His smile drops, uncertainty flitting across his eyes. He nods to the door, through its small windows, at the cab pulling up. “ I should go and help her.”