Page 57 of Until the Last Star Fades

Ben raised his eyebrows.

“Sorry, that sounds crass.” Riley winced. “We were inseparable, once. I used to be a total daddy’s girl, but not in a princess-y way. It was sports. Dad was all about sports and put me in hockey and taekwondo when I was three, but hockey was my thing. I loved the sounds: the ksssh-kssh-kssh of skates carving the ice, the crack of the puck striking your stick”—her smile stretched with each memory—“and my favorite, the puck ringing off the crossbar with a CLINK! There’s a freedom with hockey that you don’t get with other sports—flying over the ice, your lungs full of cold, crisp air—ahh, the best.” I miss it. A burn rose in her throat. Don’t… She blinked and looked away, pausing to swallow the bittersweet memories, then turned back to Ben. “He also taught me how to scale the rock walls at his gym when I was five.”

Ben’s eyes widened. “Five?”

“I know, right? I must be part monkey or something. Once I mastered that, we moved to the boulders in Central Park. Bouldering is such a rush.”

“Wow, who are you?” He chuckled. “I was probably eating dirt in the park at that age.”

“I swam, too.”

“Part mermaid, part monkey—a mer-monkey, that’s what you are!”

“You’re got more monkey in you than me! All long arms, skinny legs—”

“You know, that’s really weird ’cause sometimes I do fling my poop at people I don’t like.”

“Ben!” She grimaced, playfully punching his arm.

“Okay, I’m a monkey, but I’m cute with it, right?” He winked.

Riley felt her heart leap. So cute.

“So, you swam competitively?”

“No. Mom almost drowned when she was nine, so she made me take lessons.” She pressed her lips tight. “But sports was our thing—me and Dad, but then he got promoted and we barely saw him.”

“What was his job?”

“He worked at an ad agency, their TV broadcasting division. He often had late edits or sometimes he’d be out schmoozing clients. That’s how he met Mom, at a work party in ’93. She was the creative specialist in the ad department for Barnes and Noble.”

“So, you inherited your love of TV from your dad and books from your mom.”

“Yeah. I think Mom hoped I’d become a writer, but as long as I was doing something that made me happy, she cheered me on. Dad was determined that I’d end up with the USA women’s hockey team, but I made sure that wouldn’t happen.”

“Why?”

“It’s a long story.” Riley fussed with her purse.

“I’ve got time.”

“Well…” Riley looked up. “Mom hurt her back when I was nine and had to take a leave of absence from work. Dad wasn’t around much to help—working on budgets, lots of late hours.”

Ben shook his head.

“Turns out he wasn’t just on top of budgets but also a coordinator named Clarissa. He left us a few months later, divorced Mom, and married Clarissa when I was eleven.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. I was devastated. He tore our family apart. I skipped their wedding and rebelled by dumping his last name a week after he remarried. I’ve gone by Mom’s ever since.”

“Hope is your mom’s maiden name?”

She nodded. “I also quit taekwondo and hockey because they reminded me of him.”

“But didn’t you miss it—hockey?”

“Sometimes. I’d still skate with Josh, practice shots in his backyard, and have pick-up games with friends, but I wasn’t part of a league anymore. I didn’t want to make Dad’s dream for me come true after what he did.”