When practice finally wrapped, we collapsed in a sweaty heap near the benches.
“You coming out after?” Robin asked, peeling off her helmet.
“Tempting,” I said. “But I have a hot date with caffeine and questionable life choices.”
“Belle,” Mel said quietly, handing me a water bottle. “You good?”
There it was again. That look. The one that saidyou don’t have to perform here.
I forced a grin. “I’m excellent. Ten out of ten. Would recommend.”
She held my gaze a beat longer than comfortable.
Then nodded.
“Text if you need anything.”
I just nodded and finished taking my skates off.
By the time I got to Bread Zeppelin, the sky had gone that deep indigo. I ordered the cheapest coffee on the menu and claimed my usual corner table.
“Living the dream?” Otto asked. He owned the bakery and the little art gallery in the back. He was a good man who always offered me free coffee, which I always denied. But when he did offer me the random shift, I took him up on those.
“Always,” I said. “If the dream is subsisting on caffeine and baked goods.”
He laughed like I was joking.
I opened my laptop and prepared for an email from Long Creek that I was not ready for. Around me, couples leaned into each other. Students crammed for exams. Someone argued softly over wedding centerpieces. Normal life hummed.
And there it was, the dreaded email. I calculated the step-up care cost again. Then again. Then, once more, the numbers might rearrange out of pity. They didn’t.
Closing time came too fast.
“Alright, Belle,” Otto called gently. “We’re locking up.”
“Thanks, Otto. Have a nice night,” I said, packing up.
Outside, the air had cooled, but July in Ohio was neverthatcool.
I drove back to the rink parking lot.
The Roll-o-Ramma sign flickered above the building like it couldn’t fully commit to existing. The lot was empty, and I parked in my usual corner.
Routine mattered.
I climbed into the back, pulling the curtain across the windshield. The space was tidy. Organized. Instagram-adjacent if you didn’t look too closely. I’d made it cute with blankets, fairy lights, and a little thrifted rug.
#vanlife.
I was independent. Minimalist. Adventurous. All those trendy words that definitely didn’t mean poor.
I brushed my teeth using bottled water.
After I checked the locks twice, I lay back and stared at the ceiling. From here, I could almost pretend this was a choice. Freedom. Flexibility. A woman unburdened by rent.
Except my phone mocked me with the estimate email from Long Creek. That sat in my chest like a brick.
My father was wandering at night, so I had to figure this out. I swallowed hard and reached up to switch off the fairy lights. Darkness pressed close immediately.
