"Can they?" I want to believe him, more than anything.
Victor's gaze locks onto mine, and I see something there, a determination that wasn't present before. He takes a deep breath, like he's about to dive into unknown waters.
"Actually, I was going to wait to ask you this, but—" he stops, swallows hard, "I've realized that I don't want to live a life without you and Olivia in it. Not anymore."
My heart stutters, skips a beat. "What are you saying?" The furrow in my brow deepens as I try to decipher his meaning.
He steps closer, the intensity in his eyes undeniable. "I want us to be a family, Avery. Officially." His voice is steady, sure.
"A family?" The word echoes around us, a concept sofull of implications that my mind races to catch up. "What does that even mean for you?"
"It means whatever you want it to mean," he says softly, reaching out to touch my hand. "But for me, it's simple. It means we're always together. A team, a unit... a family."
The idea hangs in the air, beautiful and terrifying all at once. Victor continues before I can respond, "I want you and Olivia to come back to Boston with me. Permanently. Once everything here is... finished."
I shake my head, not out of refusal but from the sudden rush of emotions that hit me like a tidal wave. The doubt, the confusion—it's overwhelming. "Our lives are here, Victor. Olivia's school, my friends..." I trail off, memories of past mistakes clawing their way to the surface. "I moved cities once for someone. It was the biggest mistake of my life."
"Hey," he says softly, cupping my face to make me look at him, "I'm not him. And this isn't the same. We have something real, something worth taking risks for." But I can't shake the feeling of groundlessness, the fear of uprooting our lives on a promise that feels as fragile as ice on a spring pond.
"Can we really just leave everything behind?" My voice is barely above a whisper, the words filled with an ache that I can't fully understand.
Victor's hand is warm against my cheek, his thumb brushing away the worry lines that have etchedthemselves deep into my forehead. "You don't have to decide anything right now," he says, his voice soothing and steady. "I didn't mean to spring this on you or pressure you. I just... I needed you to know what I was thinking."
"Thank you," I whisper, and then I'm leaning in, pressing my lips to his, finding solace in the firmness of his mouth against mine. It's a deep kiss, one that speaks of possibilities and fears alike. When we part, there's an unsaid understanding in his blue eyes, a promise that no matter how twisted my insides feel, he's here.
"Okay," I manage to say, pulling back slightly, trying to anchor myself to the moment rather than the storm of thoughts in my head.
He gives me a small smile, one that doesn't quite reach his eyes, as if he too is wrestling with his own demons. "I should head out. Got a mountain of work to catch up on." He steps back, running a hand through his dark hair, leaving it in disheveled spikes.
"Will I see you at practice tomorrow?" His question sounds hopeful, but there's an edge to it, like he knows the balance between us is delicate.
"Of course," I reply, my heart giving a little leap at the thought of tomorrow, at the normalcy it promises.
"Goodbye, Olivia!" he calls out toward her room, his voice carrying warmth and a hint of reluctance to leave.
"Bye, Victor!" Her muffled reply comes from somewhere within the depths of her sanctuary, probably without a glance away from her game screen.
Then Victor is stepping through the front door, the cool air outside sweeping in to fill the void he leaves behind. I stand there, my fingers touching my lips which still tingle from his kiss, the weight of his confession pressing down on me. It's just me now, sorting through the tangled mess of what-ifs and maybes that Victor has left in his wake.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Avery
"Hey wants you to do what?"Jessica's voice cuts through the chilly air of the ice rink, slicing into my thoughts like a skate on fresh ice. I shoot her a look, pressing my finger to my lips in a silent plea for discretion.
"Shhh, keep it down," I hiss, glancing around to make sure no one else overhears. We're perched up on the bleachers, the cold metal seeping through our jeans, as we watch our kids dart across the rink below. The sharp scent of the ice mingles with the warmth of hot chocolate from the concession stand.
"Seriously, Avery, that's insane," she continues, her brown eyes wide with disbelief behind the steam rising from her cup.
I shrug noncommittally, trying to focus on the practice below, but Samantha leans forward, her dark curls bouncing with excitement. "I'd take him up on the offer," she says, clearly eager at the prospect. "A new start? And if money bags Victor wants to take care of you, why not let him?"
Emily, ever the voice of reason, gives Samantha a side-eye that could freeze the pond Victor learned to skate on. "It's not her decision," she chides gently, her nurse's compassion lacing her tone.
Samantha waves off Emily's concern with a dismissive flick of her hand. "But it'd be good for her," she persists, turning her earnest gaze back to me. Her enthusiasm reminds me of her days on the ice, full of determination and grit.
"Come on, Avery," Samantha prods, her voice low and persuasive. "Victor's got that whole mysterious, frosty vibe, but he's melting, right? For you."
I bite the inside of my cheek, watching the kids scrimmage, their laughter echoing off the walls. Victor's out there too, coaching, the stern lines of his face softening whenever he glances my way.