Page 27 of Snowflakes and Ice Skates

His eyes seemed to plead with me, but I wouldn’t cave. I couldn’t.

He sighed and nodded once before turning and walking out.

Just like that.

Was it really so easy to leave me?

I bit my lip and went up to my room. I couldn’t waste any more tears on him. I couldn’t fathom how many I’d shed over him in the past ten years, and I realize now how little he cared about me.

Unrequited love sucks.

Eleven

I woke up to snow. I pulled back my curtains and sat in front of the window watching it float down. A fresh, perfect sheet.

Movement caught my eye and I leaned forward to see a person in a jacket near my car. It wasn’t Steven or Dad. I didn’t recognize the coat. I watched, waiting to see if I should grab my phone and call the cops.

The person had something in their hand. They moved toward the front of my car and raised their arm. I gasped. They were going to break in.

I stood up as the arm came down. . . and brushed the snow off my windshield. I froze, watching as this person scrapped off my entire car before coming to the front door. I tried to see the person’s face, but their hood blocked my view.

I pulled on my robe and hurried down the stairs. When I got to the door, Vince was tapping off the snow from his boots.

“You?”

He stopped and looked at me. “Me?”

“That was you scraping off the snow?”

He nodded.

“Why?”

He shrugged. “So you wouldn’t have to.”

“That was you the day we had to go to the grocery store.”

He nodded.

“Why?”

He chuckled. “I just told you. So you wouldn’t have to later.”

“I can take care of things myself.”

He smiled. “I know you can.”

Ugh. He was so frustrating. “You can’t do things like that.”

“I can’t get the snow off your car?”

I nodded.

“Why not?”

“Because.” I huffed, and his smile grew. “It’s not something you do for a friend. It’s what my Dad does for my Mom or for me.”

“I think it’s a small act of kindness you can do for anyone.”