Walk on Water (7 page)

“You’re never satisfied. All you do is criticize.”

“Excuse me for trying to make you better!” he said, sloshing more coffee. “You want to be a soul skater, Lexa? You want to glide around in your own little world grooving on how things feel? Or do you want to win? Because I thought winning was why we’re here.”

“It’s always winning with you! Yes, I care how things feel. Remember when you did too? Or is that too far back?”

He shook his head angrily. “Here’s what I remember: feelings come and feelings go, but winning pays the bills.”

“That’s it. You don’t even
try
to understand what I want.” One strong push carried her to the boards. Grabbing her skate guards from the rail, she stalked off the ice, leaving Blake behind her.

“We’re not done here!” he shouted.

She paused only long enough to yank the guards on over her blades. “We’re totally done here,” she muttered.

Lexa stood at the end of her bed staring down into two packed suitcases. She’d stuffed in as many clothes as she needed, and her coats and skating equipment were already in the car. Now the magnitude of her actions was finally sinking in.

She walked around her bedroom, trying to imagine never seeing it again. This was the house Blake had bought for them when he’d finally started functioning again after Kaitlin’s death. This was the room he’d brought her to as a five year old, ending Beth’s hopes of making Lexa’s long stay with her permanent. Blake’s mother had planned to live with them, too, but had lost a fight with cancer before she could move in.

Lexa lifted a framed photo of herself with Blake off her dresser. She’d been eight and the medal around her neck was the first she had won that mattered. Blake stood beside her, smiling for the camera, somewhere else with his eyes. Her eight-year-old self grinned obliviously, but at sixteen Lexa could no longer pretend not to see her father’s lack of attachment.

Setting down the photo, she picked up one taken of Kaitlin in the last week of her life. She was wearing a bright pink parka, her cheeks flushed nearly to match, laughing as she aimed for Blake’s camera with a basketball-sized snowball. Deep snow all around made her coloring even more remarkable, a splash of pink and blond against brilliant white. Lexa slipped that picture between some shirts and forced her first suitcase shut.

Was she really going to do this?

She thought about calling Bry to ask if she was making a huge mistake. She checked the time; he would still be at the rink, possibly even with Blake. With a sigh, she zipped her second suitcase and grabbed the pillow off her bed.

She was pretty sure she had everything she couldn’t live without, but uncertainty still nagged her all the way down the stairs. The feeling drove her from her packed car back up to her bedroom. Her closet stood open and half empty, the first thing Blake would see when he walked past. As Lexa closed its doors, she spotted the box of videotapes stashed at its back.

Headed downstairs again with the box tucked under her arm, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was walking out of her own life. She wedged the videos into her passenger seat, then got into the car and sat staring at her home with one hand on the ignition. If she went through with this, she might never be welcome there again.

A tear started down her cheek. Wiping it away angrily, Lexa turned the key.

Lexa hesitated in the empty school hallway, filled with paralyzing doubt. First bell had just rung, but instead of sleeping through history beside her slacker neighbor, she was lurking outside the principal’s office, battling an emotion she couldn’t quite name. She had expected to be thrilled about leaving high school, but standing there for the last time, she was having second thoughts.

Missing the next few weeks meant nothing to her, but did she really want to forfeit the next two years? Skip seeing Jenni and Bry as seniors, never wear a cap and gown herself? There were plenty of aspects of school she’d be happy to leave behind, but there were things she’d be giving up too, normal rites of passage she might regret missing all her life.

More things I might regret all my life,
she amended, ducking into an alcove between lockers to avoid being noticed by an approaching janitor.

Beth had been ecstatic to welcome Lexa and her carload of baggage. “You’re making the right decision,” she’d said, folding her granddaughter into a reassuring hug. “The hard part is over, kitten. It’s all sunshine and lollipops from here!”

Lexa had laughed through her tears, knowing that couldn’t be true, needing to hear it anyway. She was still unpacking when Beth got on the phone, chasing down old skating contacts, calling in favors, pulling strings. Lexa had listened to snatches of one-sided conversations drifting up the stairs while she hung her clothes, still not able to believe she was there. Then she’d heard Blake’s name and her lungs had jerked into her ribcage. She didn’t want to talk to Blake. What could she possibly say?

“Just calling to let you know Lexa is here, she’s safe, and she’s staying,” Beth had gone on, leaving a message. “If you have questions, call back, but I hope we can agree that she’s a young woman now, she knows her own mind, and she wants more than you’re willing to give her. If so, there’s not much to discuss.”

Blake had not called back.

Lexa was pretty sure he wasn’t going to.

Beth had arranged things with the school too. There had been a little paperwork, but the fuss Lexa had dreaded had never materialized. While relieved, she also felt strangely let down, like they should have cared more about keeping her as a student.

Just sign whatever they want and get out,
she told herself now, still lurking. She had already missed three days of classes. The only thing left was to inform the principal’s office that she’d cleaned out her locker.

The janitor’s trash can rumbled nearer. Hiking her pack up her shoulder, Lexa took a deep breath and walked into the office. “I’m Lexa Walker,” she told the secretary. “Here to withdraw? I just cleaned out my locker and returned my books.”

The secretary shuffled some papers and selected one. “You got a library clearance for me?”

Lexa handed over the stamped card.

“Sign here,” the woman said, pointing to a line on her paper.

Lexa scrawled her name.

“Okay, then. Best of luck to you.”

Lexa hesitated. “That’s it? I don’t need to see the principal?”

“What for?”

“I don’t . . . So. I can just leave?”

“Yep. Thanks for stopping by.” She said it as if Lexa’s entire long experience at that school had taken place in the past five minutes. As Lexa walked out of the principal’s office, the surreal feeling that gripped her again made her barely aware of her last-ever trip down her high school’s main hall.

This is probably a really bad idea,
Lexa thought as she slowed the Explorer on the street in front of Ashtabula Ice. The sun wasn’t even up yet, just near enough to rising to shed a little light. Leaning forward over the dashboard, she glimpsed the tailgate of Blake’s black truck poking out from behind the building. She parked on the street and waited.

Jenni arrived first, swinging out of her Lexus looking like a pint-sized biker. Her pixie was extra spiky that day and a black leather jacket fell to the hem of her practice dress. Knee-high Doc Martens and tights took the place of warm-up pants, the rink’s first harbinger of summer. Lexa jumped out and ran to intercept her friend before the front door. A week had passed since she’d left Blake’s house, but she didn’t feel any more relaxed about running into him. Even standing in his parking lot was closer than she wanted to be.

“
Now
what’s going on?” Jenni didn’t look very glad to see her. “Are you coming back?”

“No.”

“I still can’t believe you dropped out of school.”

“I didn’t drop out.” They’d already had this argument, more than once. “I’m still going to graduate.”

Jenni shook her head. “You’ll just get a stupid certificate or something.”

“Thanks for your support.”

“What do you expect, Lexa? I’m never going to see you now. You’re not at school, not at the rink. You might as well have dropped off the face of the Earth.”

“I’m still in Ashtabula.”

“Barely. Just tell your dad you’re sorry and come back.”

“Yeah. I’m not that sorry.”

Jenni rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I’m going in now. I don’t need Blake pissed off at me too.”

Lexa watched her walk away with a sinking feeling. Jenni had seemed like a different girl since the prom, hanging on Jacob in the halls and befriending the growing number of social elite who didn’t mind seeing Everly bumped down a peg. And she was right about one thing: with Lexa gone from both school and the rink, they’d see even less of each other.

Bry’s mom dropped him off as Lexa walked back to her car. “Did you change your mind?” he asked, running over to meet her.

“No.”

He nodded ruefully. “I didn’t really think you would.”

“At least you understand. Jenni is being impossible.”

Bry grinned. “Which is different because. . . ?”

Lexa laughed. “You know you love her.”

“I do. That doesn’t make her low-maintenance.”

“Too true.”

“So what are you doing here? Are you going in?”

“No. I just came by to say hi to you guys.”

He squinted suspiciously. “In the parking lot at dawn o’clock? Did you forget how to text?”

“I wanted to see you.”

“I’m flattered, but . . .”

A wreck of a red Jeep drove past them into the lot. Lexa’s eyes tracked it even as she tried to pretend she hadn’t noticed. Bry followed her gaze.

“Okay,” he said, laughing. “Suddenly I feel a lot less special. Good luck with
that
seduction.”

She winced. “That’s not what—”

“Whatever you say!” He waved as he headed for the front door, where the top edge of the sun was just creeping over the roofline.
“When you wish upon Blake’s star. . . ,”
he sang as he went, making Lexa want to slug him.

Deal with Bry later,
she told herself, turning toward Ian as he climbed out of his Jeep. There was no way to pretend she had just bumped into him this time. Gathering her shredded nerves, she headed straight for him. “Hi, Ian.”

“Hi,” he said, clearly surprised. “Are you—”

“No, I just want to talk to you. Do you have a minute?”

He glanced at the rising sun. “More like a second. What’s up?”

The direct light in his face was harsh, making the circles beneath his eyes as dark as bruises. His chest and biceps looked hard enough to crack eggs on, though, and he was still a foot taller than she. “How are things at the gym?” she asked, diverted from her real question by all the new muscle filling his UnderArmour.

Ian shrugged. “I work out for free and they finally moved my shift to nights. Can’t complain.”

“It’s got to be tough, though, losing so much time from training. At least you’re not going to college, too.”

“Yeah. I didn’t have much choice about that.”

Lexa sensed that she might have stepped wrong, but she plunged ahead anyway. “I just left school myself.”

He looked her up and down as if starting to suspect an agenda. “I heard.”

“I’ve got a new tutor who covers all the subjects. I’m going to be skating in Cleveland, so I’ll need the extra time.”

Ian’s brows rose. He obviously hadn’t heard that part. And now Blake was certain to hear it too.

He’d have found out anyway,
Lexa told herself, trying not to panic.
He’ll know everything, sooner or later.

“Cleveland, huh? That’s a long way to go when your dad owns a rink right here.”

She nodded and took a breath. “I’ll be training with Candace Zaharian.”

“Holy crap!” He didn’t even try to hide his amazement. “Does your dad know? I mean . . . you’re not skating
pairs
?”

She swallowed nervously. “That’s the plan.”

“And Blake is
letting
you? I don’t believe it! What about your invitation to nat—”

“My grandmom is letting me. Blake is not involved.”

“Holy crap,” he said again.

“So I won’t be skating this nationals—not in singles, anyway. But there’s a chance my new partner and I . . .” She read the unbridled skepticism in Ian’s eyes. “Okay, maybe not this season. But next season for sure.”

He shook his head. Grabbing his skate bag, he slammed the Jeep’s door. “I’ve got to go,” he said, walking away.

Lexa had never felt more dismissed in her life, and she still didn’t have what she’d come for. “I need a partner,” she called to his back. “I came here to ask you.”

He turned toward her in slow motion, as if he might have misheard. “Ask me what?”

“I want you. To skate with, I mean.” She rushed ahead, the words she’d rehearsed tumbling out. “Candace Zaharian is a top coach, way more respected than Blake, and Cleveland Ice Arena puts this rink to shame. You and I are perfectly matched physically, plus we skate with the same techniques. My grandmom’s paying for everything. All of your expenses would be covered: coaching, off-ice training, skates, costumes, travel—everything, and all the best.”

The expression on Ian’s face wasn’t the delighted one she’d hoped for.

“You could quit your job!” she added, sounding desperate. “You could be on the ice full time again. You could—”

“Let me get this straight. You want me to abandon my coach—your
father
—and a legitimate shot at U.S. Champion because your grandma’s setting you up in pairs? You want to take advantage of everything Blake’s taught us, but cut him out of the picture? Am I that pathetic to you? You think that just because I’m struggling now I’ll—”

“What? Ian, no! You don’t get it!”

“I get it perfectly. You think that because my family’s not rich, I’ll give up everything they’ve sacrificed for and throw in on an easy ride with you. I’m poor, but I’ll never be that poor, Lexa. I’ve worked my whole life to get this far, and I’ll make it the rest of the way or I won’t, but I’ll do it on my merits and not your grandma’s money.”