Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Heath white-knuckled the steering wheel, trying to stop the truck from skidding onto the shoulder in the steadily intensifying snow. I knew he needed to concentrate, but I simply could not shut up about my conversation with Sheila Lin.

“Her skating school has two rinks, and they’re both Olympic-sized! There are dedicated teachers for every single dance style on staff, and technical coaches, and—”

“Why us?” he asked.

“Why not us? I don’t understand why you’re not more excited about this!”

As we continued our slow progress west on I-80, I kept adding flourishes to the fairy tale narrative in my head. Yes, fine, we’d come in sixth. But Sheila saw something she liked. Something that piqued her interest enough she’d learned my name, sought me out, invited me— personally invited me! —to join the summer intensive program at the Lin Ice Academy in Los Angeles.

Before Sheila left to watch the twins receive their silver medals, she’d given me her business card. I clutched it so tight, the thick stock sliced my palm. I didn’t care. Every bright sting of pain was a reminder that this was real.

“Did she say how much it would cost?” Heath asked.

I didn’t care about that either. The chance to train with Sheila Lin was priceless.

“We’ll figure it out,” I told him.

—

Lee would’ve put a stop to my grand plans.

Which is why I had no intention of telling him.

As soon as we got home, I fell on my sword and apologized for borrowing the truck. Lee was so taken aback—and, okay, also catatonic with booze—he took the keys without a scene and didn’t even make a fuss when Heath helped me up the stairs to my bedroom.

The next day, once the hangover hit, Lee had a few choice words and a slap across the cheek for me, but I hardly registered the sting. The pain in my injured hip was fading too, and I felt invincible. A few more months, and I’d leave this place behind to step into my future.

When the Academy enrollment forms arrived, I intercepted the envelope and forged Lee’s chicken-scratch signature on the Parent or Guardian line. My inheritance was tied up in legal red tape until I turned eighteen, but Heath and I managed to scrounge together enough money from our menial part-time jobs at the rink for the deposit required to hold our places in the program. We booked plane tickets too—the cheapest flights we could find, with a six-hour layover at some regional airport in Texas. But even after months of pulling as many extra shifts as we could, squirreling all our earnings behind a busted plank in the stable, we were well short of what we’d need to survive in Los Angeles for a whole summer.

Lee had already sold off everything in the house that had any value. There was only one option left, and I knew Heath would try to talk me out of it.

My mother’s engagement ring was my last remaining tie to her. I’d been so young when she died, I retained only the vaguest memories: her hair tumbling down her back in wild waves like mine, the same plain brown that glinted golden in the sun. Her smooth alto soaring to the blue sky as I ran along the shoreline. Her strong arms around me in the water, keeping me tethered close as I learned to swim, then letting me go.

On our last day in Illinois, I told Heath I needed to run some errands and took the bus to the nicest jewelry store in downtown Lake Forest. The proprietor lowballed me, assuming I was a silly teenage girl with no concept of the ring’s value. But I knew what I had, and what it was worth. I walked out with my purse stuffed full of cash and didn’t look back.

I never really knew my mother, but I like to think she would have been proud of me.

When I returned, Heath was on the beach, building a bonfire. We’d decided to spend the night camping out there, so we could watch the sun rise over the waves one final time—and so we could avoid Lee until it would be too late for him to stop us. Our packed bags were hidden under my bed, ready for our early morning cab ride to O’Hare. I wasn’t sure what my brother would think when he found us gone. But I was fairly certain he wouldn’t bother coming after us.

The evening was warm and windy, an early summer storm brewing over the lake. Heath had laid out a blanket, the corners pinned down with chunks of rock so it wouldn’t blow away.

I hoped he wouldn’t notice, but his eyes went right to my hand.

“Katarina.” He raked a hand through his hair. “What did you do?”

“It was only a ring,” I said. “I’ll buy myself a way better one when I’m a rich and famous Olympic gold medalist.”

Darkness was falling fast, the wind picking up. I slipped my arms around Heath’s waist.

“What about you?” I said. “What do you want when we’re rich and famous?”

Heath frowned.

“The world’s best surround sound system?” I suggested. “An obnoxious sports car?”

He shook his head. “I don’t need anything.”

“That’s not what I asked. What do you want ?”

He kissed me, just as the first lightning strike split the sky over the lake. Soon we were tangled on the blanket next to the bonfire. Thunder rumbled, the storm creeping closer to shore, but we were safe on our little beach.

As suddenly as he’d started, Heath stopped kissing me and pulled away. He drew my hand up between us, studying my bare finger in the firelight.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

Though he’d gone along with our preparations, the closer we got to our departure date, the more he retreated into brooding silence. I couldn’t understand his lack of excitement. I was the one leaving the only home I’d ever known behind. He’d spent his whole childhood shuttling from place to place—what was one more move? Why couldn’t he see this was the opportunity of a lifetime, the best thing that had ever happened to us?

“Your ring,” he said.

I sighed. “Heath, it’s done.”

“It meant so much to you.” He swallowed. “And you just—”

“It’ll be worth it,” I said. “Once we get to California, you’ll see.”

In the dancing light of the wind-stoked bonfire, his eyes looked pure black, troubled as the choppy water. The crashing waves nearly washed his next words away.

“I hope you’re right, Katarina.”

Now I look back and think: maybe if I hadn’t been so caught up in my fantasies of being Sheila Lin’s star pupil, I would have seen Heath’s reticence for what it really was. Yes, he was used to change. He was used to loss. He was also used to anything that seemed too good to be true—anything that seemed good at all—being ripped from his grasp as soon as he touched it.

No wonder he held on to me so tightly.