Page 3 of Ice Darling
“I’m in!”
“I’m gonna burn your wallet up, Boss!”
One by one, the teammates agree.
“April? Rebel?” Mom makes a sweeping gesture.
The women hesitate and look subtly at their boyfriends—who happen to be the captain and vice captain of the Lucky Strikers.
I clear my throat, smoothing things over in ways I wouldn’t normally do. “Mom,” I try awkwardly, “some people might already have plans.”
“Oh!” Mom’s eyes widen as if the thought had never occurred to her. “Of course. Of course. We can all convene another time if you’d prefer.”
Gunner Kinsey and Chance McLanely are ridiculously obvious in their relief. They tug eagerly on April and Rebel’s hands, trying to separate them from the group. But my bosses don’t go so easily.
“Are you okay?” April asks, hovering over me with a concerned look.
“Yeah,” I croak. “Peachy.”
If the peach were poisoned and one bite would send me into a deep and dreamless eternal sleep.
Rebel looks me over. “You were about to tell your mom that you and Renthrow were dating, weren’t you?”
I flinch. “Was it that obvious?”
“Only to people with experience.”
I have no idea what that means, but she and April exchange meaningful looks, and I figure there’s a story somewhere in their past that I’d probably be interested in…if I wasn’t too busy trying to survive my mother’s sudden appearance in town.
“Delia? This way,” Mom sings as she gestures to the exits.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” Rebel says quietly, “but you can come with us. I’ll tell your mom that we have an emergency at the garage.”
I’ve never met women as classy and kind as these two. Truly.
“I’ll be fine,” I mutter to my bosses, trying to do what I’ve struggled to do since my first day in Lucky Falls—keep them at arm’s length.
Rebel and April take my word for it and join their boyfriends. I tag along with the bigger group.
“I didn’t know you had a daughter in Lucky Falls, Sasha,” Max, the manager of the Lucky Strikers, tells Mom as he escorts her through the parking lot.
Max is the size of a massive lumberjack with arms better suited to tearing trees in half with his bare hands. It amazes me that he spends most of his time behind a desk managing the team rather than on the ice swinging pucks into a net.
Max smiles politely. “Is that why you were interested in sponsoring our team?”
“Among many reasons,” Mom says, ever the strategic conversationalist. She points to her car. “Delia, ride with me, dear.”
Mills, Mom’s personal assistant and driver, gives me a warm wave as I near the town car.
Seeing Mills makes the emotions in my chest stir up even further. It feels like a thousand little knives all taking aim at a spot right under my ribs.
I blow out a quick breath and whirl away from Mom.
“I rode here,” I croak out, hoping to hide the tremble in my voice.
“You can leave that death machine alone for one night, Cordelia. Small towns are notoriously peaceful. No one’s going to take it. Heck”—Mom rolls her eyes—“even thieves know they’d be ten times safer bynottouching it.”
My bottom lip warbles.
