Page 57 of Hearts on Ice
Six years ago today I lost my life. That part was still true.
But for the first time since, something in me didn’t feel dead.
Without letting myself think, I unlocked the truck, slid in, and drove off. There were some places I needed to be.
*****
The shop air was cool and green with the scent of stems and soil. I went straight to the lilies—Laura’s favorites—and picked out a few daisies for Ellie. She’d called themsunshine flowerswhen she was little. I still could hear her saying it, that tiny burst of pride when she got the words right.
The florist wrapped them in paper the color of sand, tied it with a thin gold ribbon. It felt too pretty for grief, but maybe that was the point.
By the time I reached the cemetery, the winter sun was high enough to warm the stone but not the air. I crouched between their names—Laura Jane Mackenzie and Ellie Grace Mackenzie—and laid the flowers between them.
“Six years,” I murmured. “Some days it feels like yesterday. Some days it feels like forever.”
The words hung in the air, fragile, absurd.
My fingers traced Lauren’s name, the grooves cool against my skin. When a tear fell, it landed right in the curve of the L. I let it stay there.
“I miss you,” I said. “Every day. Every damn day.”
Wind skimmed through the bare trees, and for a heartbeat it felt like they were listening.
“When I married you, Em,” I said softly, “I didn’t think there’d ever be room in me for anything else. Then Ellie came along, and somehow my heart just—expanded. You two were everything. I didn’t need anything else. Didn’t want anything else.”
My throat burned. “And then, that day… it all just—” I stopped, swallowed hard. “You know the rest.”
The silence pressed in, steady as the cold.
“I still talk to you in my head,” I said. “Still try to make sense of it. But lately—” I exhaled. “Lately something’s shifted. There’s someone,” I said quietly. “I didn’t plan it. Didn’t even see it coming. He makes the quiet less heavy… makes me notice things again. Not like before—just different.”
I gave a shaky half-laugh. “It’s complicated. You’d probably tease me for that.”
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. “He’s… a man.” The word left my mouth in a whisper that felt heavier than shouting. “I kissed him, Em. And for a second I thought the world would tilt off its axis. But it didn’t. It just—felt like breathing.”
I scrubbed a hand over my face. “It’s wrong in a hundred ways. He’s younger. He’s one of my players. This—this isn’t supposed to happen. But it did.”
I stared at the flowers until the colors blurred.
“I don’t want to feel like I’m betraying you. God, I’d never—” My voice cracked. “But maybe… maybe you’d tell me it’s okay to keep living. To let something new in, even if it doesn’t look like what we had.”
Another tear hit the stone, darkening the carved letters. I pressed my palm flat over it. The granite was cold, unyielding. Still, I felt something ease in my chest—like the stone had taken a little of the weight.
“I love you,” I whispered to my girls. “Both of you. Always will.” The wind shifted. “I think…” I swallowed. “I think I’m ready to live again.”
The lilies stirred in a small breeze, the paper around them soft with dew. I took it as a sign. Or maybe just the world reminding me it keeps going, whether I do or not.
I sat in the grass until the damp bled through my jeans. When I finally stood, the weight was still there, but it wasn’t crushing anymore. It felt like something I could carry.
I pressed two fingers to my lips and then to each name. It felt childish and exactly right.
Back in the truck, I watched my phone wake up. Messages from JB about video, one from the ops manager about bus times next week, a PR reminder. My thumb hovered over Miguel’s contact longer than it should have. I typed:
Rodriguez: Proud of you last night.
I stared at the words until they went blurry, then hit send before I could get noble and delete them.
Traffic hummed somewhere beyond the cemetery wall. And I thought about a quiet, patient smile that had started to feel like a promise.
