Page 68 of Ice Darling
Fact two: she doesn’t let me in when she’s going through that pain.
Fact three: Cordelia is the only one whom Gordie trusts to meet her there.
Whether or not Miss Potts approves of Cordelia Davenport is not my concern.
“Gordie must be finished with chess by now. Have a good evening, Miss Potts.”
Her lips roll up in a limp smile. “You too, Viking.”
I leave the classroom.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Cordelia
My heart is pounding, and I can’t concentrate on anything. The call from Brennon yesterday haunted me like a ghost all through the night, and it’s followed me into work today.
Can we meet?
The knifing sensation is back. This time, it’s like a hammer drill, relentlessly plunging into my chest.
I don’t want to see him.
Butnotseeing him will only prove that the humiliation is still fresh. Won’t avoiding him make me seem more pathetic?
I carelessly push the drill into the metal gears and hear a voice shriek, “Cordelia, be careful!”
The warning comes just in time before the drill burrows into the gear and sends up sparks. I yelp and drop the bit just in time. The metal makes a clanging sound as it hits the grassy ground and shatters.
April strides briskly to me, her face red. “Cordelia, when you’re using tools like this, you have to pay attention. People are forgiving, but machines don’t offer second chances.”
“I’m sorry,” I mutter.
“Being sorry won’t mean much if you’ve lost a hand or an eye. Safety is the first lesson when learning auto repair! Didn’t you learn that in trade school?”
I dip my head, feeling chastised.
“Hey, relax. She’s okay,” Rebel says, joining us.
“I’ll be more careful next time,” I promise April.
The mechanic blows out a breath, plants her hands on her hips, and turns away. After a beat, she returns her attention to me. “I’m sorry. When I saw that drill closing in on you, my mind went to the worst-case scenario.”
I nod.
“I…” As April’s shoulders unwind, she starts to look sheepish. “I didn’t hurt your feelings, did I?”
I shake my head.
Awkwardly, April opens her mouth and then changes her mind about whatever she was going to say. After another shaky exhale, she points to the car she was working on. “I’ll be over there.”
I chew on my bottom lip and watch my usually even-tempered boss cross the lawn.
Rebel pats my shoulder. “You okay?”
“Yeah, it’s my fault.” I stare at the oil-stained grass.
Rebel nudges me with her shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up too much. This isn’t about you.”
