Chapter 8: Thin Ice

Mason left the diner without his coat.

He didn't say goodbye, and he didn't look at anyone.

The door swung shut behind him, and the whole table looked at me.

"Okay," Nate said. "What did you do?"

"I don't know," I said, which was a lie, and also not entirely one.

Tori grabbed my wrist. "Go after him."

"Why would I..."

"Because you made the napkins, genius. Go."

I grabbed his coat off the back of his chair and ran.

The parking lot was empty.

Fresh snow had started, and a single line of footprints led across the lot and up the hill toward the arena.

I followed them.

The rink's side door was propped open with a hockey stick.

Inside, the building was dark except for the work lights over the ice.

Mason was standing at the boards in his sweater with his back to me, and his breath rose in the cold.

"You forgot your coat," I said.

He didn't turn around.

"I didn't forget it. I left it."

"It's twelve degrees outside."

"It's colder in there."

I put the coat on the boards beside him.

He looked at it for a long moment.

"You don't have to do this, Lila."

"Do what?"

"Be nice. Fix things. Hand me drinks."

I swallowed.

"I'm not handing you anything. I just brought your coat."

I should have gone home then.

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