Chapter 42

Chapter 42

A soft haze of rain fell as Heath drove us out of St. Louis, turning to shards of sleet the farther north we traveled.

I still don’t know how he got the car—a gray Kia with a dented fender and crumbs left on the seat cushions by the last occupants. We were old enough to represent our country at the Olympic Games, but too young to legally rent a vehicle.

We didn’t play music. We barely spoke. But we held hands over the gearshift, like we’d done on that trip to Cleveland when we were teenagers. Heath kept squeezing my fingers to make sure I didn’t drift off in the passenger seat.

Only during the final hour of our approach did it occur to my concussion-addled brain that returning to my childhood home meant dealing with my brother. The house was as much mine as his, though. I had every right to be there.

When we pulled up, the place looked unoccupied: windows dark, gutters choked with dead leaves. Lee’s truck wasn’t parked in its usual spot, and ours were the first tire tracks through the dusting of snow on the driveway.

“Wait here.” Heath got out of the car, leaving the motor running and the heat full blast.

After living in the Lins’ mansion, my childhood home seemed small and lonely, a stray animal cowering on the craggy shoreline. Still, as much as I dreaded seeing him, I was grateful Lee had refused to sell the property. Even sitting outside, I felt something unfurl in me that had been clenched tight for far too long.

The doctors had assured me that, with rest and time, I would recover. But I wouldn’t be able to step on the ice for months. It might be a year or more before I could skate full-out again—if I ever could. All because of one stupid mistake. That’s all it takes in our sport, to change the entire course of your life.

I’m not sure how much time passed before Heath returned. The painkillers they’d given me before we left the hospital had worn off, and my head felt as foggy as the air.

“Lee’s not here,” he said. “I don’t think he’s been here in a while.”

I was so relieved I wouldn’t have to face my brother, I didn’t think about where he might have gone, or when—or even if —he might return.

“The power’s off, and it’s pretty cold in there,” Heath said. “We should find a hotel.”

I shook my head. Pain throbbed from my skull to the base of my spine.

“At least for tonight,” Heath insisted.

“It can’t be worse than the stable. I want to stay.”

He helped me out of the car. As I limped toward the front door, leaning against Heath, tendrils of lake breeze caressed my cheek. Welcoming me home.

Inside, it was somehow even colder, as if the building had been holding its breath, waiting for our arrival. Dust draped every surface like a shroud.

It finally occurred to me that Lee could be dead, his corpse rotting in his bed or broken at the bottom of the cellar stairs or bloated in the lake.

“I checked every room,” Heath said, as if he’d read my thoughts. “And the stable, and the beach. We’re the only ones here, I promise.”

He took me into the parlor, draping his coat around my shoulders and pressing another dose of painkillers into my palm before getting to work building a fire. Soon the room was so warm I didn’t need the coat—or my jacket. I doffed them both, stripping down to a thin tank.

“Come here,” I said.

Heath stretched out on the sofa beside me—slowly, gingerly, so I wouldn’t be jostled. I’d been furious with him for so long. And yet, in that moment, I couldn’t remember why.

We leaned back against the cushions, my head resting on his chest. The day before, we’d both woken up in a luxury hotel, ready to battle it out for the national title and berths on the Olympic team. Now we were back in our childhood home. Together.

“How are you feeling?” Heath cupped my chin and looked into my eyes. He was only checking the dilation of my pupils, as the doctor had instructed, but my breath caught in my throat all the same.

“Better,” I said. The meds were kicking in, covering my agony in a plush layer of calm.

I touched his face, tracing the scar under his eye. I still didn’t know how he’d gotten it. There was so much I didn’t know.

“Katarina,” he said.

I had no idea what he was going to say next, but I felt sure it would ruin the moment. There would be plenty of time later for dissecting all the ways we’d hurt each other. For figuring out what the hell we were going to do next.

I laid my head back down and closed my eyes. Heath draped his arm across my stomach. Cold wind howled outside, but we were both so warm from the fire and the heat of each other’s skin, it was difficult to tell where he ended and I began.

“You shouldn’t fall asleep yet,” he whispered. “The doctor said—”

I tipped his chin down until his mouth met mine, and that felt like coming home too.

“Then keep me awake,” I said.