Page 69 of Ice Darling
“What’s it about?”
“Back when April was in technical college, she befriended a sweet guy from another small town. He was hasty, and he got careless around a tool like this one.” Rebel nods to the machine. “And it cost him dearly.”
I shudder at the thought of how much pain that trainee must have been in and how much it must have hurt April to see her friend injured.
Rebel looks over at April with a sad smile. “I bet she hadn’t remembered that until she saw you just now.”
“It must have been very traumatic for her,” I say, thinking of how April had been red and shaking when she tore into me.
Rebel sighs. “Funny how, even after a wound is healed, it may still hurt to the touch.”
Something deep inside me twists in acknowledgement. “Yeah, I get that.”
“Why don’t you work on something else, and I’ll fix this gear.” Rebel picks up the broken pieces and shoos me away.
Still feeling awful about stirring up bad memories for April, I return to the car I’m working on and force myself to focus.
The ladies invite me out for lunch, and as usual, I decline.
“I can stay back and eat with you,” April says, a little hesitantly.
“I prefer eating alone. I get to work more that way.”
April flinches, and I wonder if she thinks I’m brushing her off because she scolded me earlier.
Silence lingers for a beat too long.
I’m not sure how to clear up that misunderstanding, and she doesn’t seem entirely comfortable about this tension either, so the both of us avoid eye contact.
After lunch, April and Rebel return to the outdoor garage. I’m in the middle of diagnosing what I believe is a bad crank-shaft sensor. However, I notice that April stops by my bay, so I look up from my scanning tool.
“Renthrow called. Gordie’s stopping by to interview us for her booklet.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” April bobs her head.
I wait for more, and when she doesn’t say anything else, I prod, “Is that all?”
“Yeah,” April says.
I blink rapidly. It’s so awkward I can’t breathe. “Okay.”
“Okay.” April turns on her heels.
I watch her take two steps away. “April…”
April whirls around. “Delia, I’m sorry?—”
“…I’m sorry,” I say at the same time.
As our words overlap, we both abruptly shut our mouths.
April laughs.
I snort.
“I shouldn’t have yelled at you earlier,” April says.
