“It’s okay.”
But it’s not. Because I’m supposed to be good at this. I always know what to say to get a laugh, how to keep the peace. Well, unless I’m on the ice. But here I am, fumbling over my words, because Izzy doesn’t accept the same shit I hand everyone else in my life. She wants more. I’m not sure I can do that.
I let go of her wrist slowly, my fingers trailing against her soft skin before I step away. “So,” I say, forcing lightness back into my voice. “We even now?”
“Even?” She tilts her head, considering. “Is there a scorecard I’m not aware of?”
“You saved me at the hospital. I saved you from Route 1.”
“Wow, you really did whack your head. I just sat there. There was no saving.”
“Hospitals suck. I enjoyed the company.” It hurts to be so truthful, so I paste on that grin. “I play to win, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me that.” But she’s smiling when she says it, just a little. She licks the last of her ice cream from her lips, then glances out at the waves.
I watch her longer than I should, following her gaze to the horizon. Blue that stretches on forever.
Only reminds me more of her eyes and how much fucking trouble I’m in.
I’ve been skating since I was three. I don’t remember learning, just something I did to keep up with Ethan. But the more I practiced, the more I learned how best to use those skates to fly over the ice. It’s the same with Izzy.
I just need to find her edges.
Riley jumps out the minute I have the car in park, her head tucked down, her shoulders rounded. Izzy unbuckles her seatbelt, then peeks into the review as a woman in a gray Toyota pulls up behind us.
“Riley’s a good kid,” I say.
“She is.” Her smile wobbles. “Thank you. For today. You didn’t have to do any of that.”
“I know.”
She looks at me for a beat too long before glancing away. I’m about to say something when the woman climbs out, already talking before she’s fully out of the car.
“Sorry, did I miss the fucking memo? When did you take over as mother to Riley, hmm?”
“Mom! It’s fine,” Riley groans, tightening her hands into fists.
“Get in the car, Ri. We’ll talk later.”
Riley’s halfway into the passenger seat before Izzy’s mom spins. “Not a chance. You’re such a big shot, you can drive us back. Driver’s side.”
Izzy stills beside me. It’s subtle, the kind of thing you’d miss if you weren’t paying attention.
ButI’mpaying attention.
She quickly vaults out of the car. “We don’t need to do this here.”
“Why? You’re too busy to answer a text, then I’ll come to you.”
“Mom,” she pleads, glancing down at the busy sidewalk. “I don’t mind helping Riley.”
“Good, then you can help me. Peyton took an extra shift tonight.” She rips open the back door of the car, wrestling with the car seat buckle and narrating the whole thing to no one in particular. “He’s been an absolute nightmare today, I don’t know what’s gotten into him, I haven’t slept?—”
“I can’t watch Luca. I’m working this afternoon.”
I’ve held my tongue enough. I jump out of the G-Wagon and walk around as Izzy’s mom hands off a toddler to her like a package.
Izzy takes him without hesitating. That’s the part that gets me—she doesn’t even pause. The little boy grabs a fistful of her hair, and she just winces and starts working his fingers loose.
