Chapter 65

Chapter 65

I’d forgotten how bright the sun shone in Los Angeles.

The locals wore light jackets to ward off the mid-January chill, but coming from the Midwest, the California weather felt sweltering to me. As I walked into Hollywood Forever Cemetery, sunlight heated my skin like a follow spot, and whispers trailed in my wake.

Is that—oh my god, it is.

What is she doing here?

I thought she was dead.

“Kat!”

I turned to see Garrett Lin walking across the well-manicured grass, hand raised in a friendly wave. So at least one person was pleased to see me.

The second he was close enough, Garrett wrapped me in a hug. The first time anyone had touched me since…I didn’t want to think about it. He’d put on weight, enough to soften the planes of his face; it looked good on him.

“This is Andre,” Garrett said, gesturing to the man beside him. “My boyfriend.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Kat.” Andre looked to be a few years our senior, handsome with dark skin, dorky glasses, and a deep, soothing voice. He shook my hand, then took Garrett’s.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” I said. “I had no idea she was sick.”

“None of us did,” Garrett said.

Cancer, I’d read in the news, though the reports didn’t specify what kind. Apparently Sheila had been battling the disease for years, in secret. So Vancouver really had been her last chance at the Olympics—and the last words I’d ever spoken to her were in anger.

The ceremony was scheduled to start in a few minutes, and people had begun to migrate toward the white chairs lined up on either side of a rectangular reflecting pool. I drew more than a few curious looks—including from Frannie Gaskell, now all grown up and going by her full name, Francesca. She and her partner had wasted no time taking over the spot Heath and I once occupied as the top American ice dance team.

Ellis Dean lurked around the perimeter, soliciting comments from passersby with a microphone bedazzled to match the rhinestones on his bowtie. When he tried to wave us over, both Garrett and I pretended not to see him.

“I hope it’s all right that I’m here,” I said.

“Of course it is!” Garrett said. “I meant to call you, but everything’s been so hectic and—wait, how did you find out about the service?”

“Heath told me.”

Garrett’s eyes widened, and he exchanged a look with Andre.

My less-than-glamorous lifestyle over the past several years had bored the media into leaving me alone for the most part; it was rare I received a call not from a telemarketer. When the phone rang on the night Sheila passed away, I hadn’t even bothered to glance at the screen. It wasn’t until the next day, when I went to select a playlist for my morning run, that I noticed the voicemail.

I know I’m the last person you want to hear from. But I thought you should know.

I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me, and I couldn’t tell whether it was from hearing Heath’s voice again or from the shocking news he broke.

I didn’t cry. I didn’t think. I swept the dust off my old carry-on suitcase and started packing. A couple of hours later, I was at O’Hare, boarding the first available flight to LA.

“So Kat,” Andre said, changing the subject, “do you still skate?”

Garrett stiffened. “Babe, let’s not—”

“It’s okay.” I smiled. “I do, but it’s just for fun now. What about you, Garrett?”

“Not for years,” he said. “After Vancouver, I had…well, there was an accident.”

“A fall?” I asked. I thought I’d noticed a new hitch in his step when he approached.

“I’d stayed super late at the Academy, trying to—” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Anyway, I fell asleep at the wheel and flipped my car over a median on the freeway.”

I gasped. Andre gave Garrett’s hand a supportive squeeze.

“Holy shit,” I said. “Are you—I mean, are you okay? I’m so sorry, I didn’t know, or I—”

“I’m fine,” Garrett said. “At least I am now. But yeah, I figured that was as good a sign as any that my skating days were done.”

Perhaps it was a strange thought to have at a funeral, but I’d never seen Garrett look happier or healthier—which forced me to realize just how tense and miserable he’d been before.

“I’m back in school, actually,” he continued. “Or, well, I guess it’s the first time I’ve gone to school like a regular student.”

“He’s studying psychology at Stanford.” Andre looped his arm around Garrett’s waist and beamed at him with supportive pride. “Top of his class.”

“That’s amazing, Garrett,” I said. “Congratulations.”

The minister, a gray-haired woman in a pantsuit, took up her position behind the podium. There was no casket, only a portrait of Sheila in her prime—the gold dress, the gold medal around her neck—and an elaborate spray of white orchids and lilies to match the smaller arrangements in pedestal bowls along the edge of the pool.

“You can sit with us,” Garrett offered, gesturing to the section reserved for family. Bella sat alone in the front row, her intricate braided chignon and impeccable posture unmistakable.

“Oh no, that’s all right,” I told him. “I’ll see you after the service.”

I took a seat in the back, a still empty row that everyone steered clear of once they spotted me. As the rest of the chairs filled in, I scanned the crowd and told myself I wasn’t looking for Heath.

Seconds later, I spotted him coming down the stairs beside the mausoleum. He’d grown a full beard, and he took the steps two at a time with the rhythmic grace of a trained dancer. I held my breath, hoping he wouldn’t look at me or acknowledge me in any way, and also longing to spring out of my seat and run toward him.

I needn’t have worried. Heath didn’t notice me, and he sat in the front.

Right beside Bella.

The ceremony got under way with a brief, secular eulogy, before the minister brought Kirk Lockwood up to charm the crowd with a few stories from Sheila’s skating career. Garrett took the stage next, delivering a moving speech about how much he had always admired his mother, and how glad he was she had gotten the chance to know the real him—and the man he loved—before her death.

“Finally,” the minister said, “Sheila’s daughter, Isabella, would like to say a few words.”

I held my breath, bracing myself for my first look at Bella Lin’s face since the night she’d betrayed me. But she didn’t move from her seat.

Garrett leaned down to say something to her. Bella shook her head, and her shoulders trembled. She was crying, or trying hard not to.

Heath put his arm around her, and her shuddering stopped. Bella still made no move to rise, though. Instead, she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.

The minister tried to smooth over the awkward moment. “Let’s move on to the—”

“I’d like to say something.”