Chapter 9: Chapter 9

"Yes." I said before I could stop myself.

She raised an eyebrow and I pressed my lips together. She smiled.

I said nothing. She ate her apple and looked out at the courtyard like she had known me for years.

"I like your sweater. The color looks so good on you." She said.

"Uhm.... Thank you."

"I mean it."

I looked down at the pale yellow fabric. Mom had bought it two years ago from a sale rack.

"Thanks." I said again, quieter this time.

We sat in a comfortable silence for a while.

"You don't have to tell me anything, girl." Zara said eventually. "It's fine. I'm not asking you to be guilty if you don't wanna talk. I just noticed you always sit alone and I don't like eating alone." She shrugged. "Simple as that."

I looked at her for a moment.

"Okay." I said.

She nodded once and that was that.

The strange car was parking outside my house when I got home. Just outside the fence and I thought with shock.

"Oh my god! My mom found a boyfriend? Oh my god. No...."

Suddenly while I slowed down to study the magnificent vehicle, Hunter called and said.

"Hello, Taylor. A driver has been assigned to you. His name is Gerald Vismark. He will give give you my handwritten letter."

I looked at the vehicle closely. A muscular driver in the front seat in a dark jacket, sitting straight, eyes forward.

I stopped on the pavement and stared at it.

A small envelope was tucked under the windshield wiper on the passenger side. The driver got out when he saw me and handed it over without a word.

I opened it with Hunter scent knocking me off my breath. And right there, I knew he truly had written it.

"Miss Whitman. Per the updated contract, transportation to and from all public events and school has been arranged. Your driver's name is Gerald Vismark. He will be available from 7am daily.

From Hunter Nightclaw and McCall."

I read it twice. Then I looked at Gerald.

He was a tall, muscular man, with a calm face and patient eyes.

"Gerald Vismark, sir?" I said.

"Yes, miss."He said.

"Okay." I said.

I went upstairs. Mom was home early and still awake for once. She was in the kitchen when I walked in, still in her work clothes, standing at the stove. She turned when she heard the door.

"You're home on time." I said, surprised.

"They let us go early." She looked at me. "There is a black car parked outside our building."

"I know."

"Taylor."

"It's for me." I placed my bag down on the chair. "It's part of the arrangement with Hunter's team. They want me at events and they are providing transport."

Mom turned fully from the stove.

She was a small woman, my mother. And she was always tired. But her eyes were sharp and clear and they were fixed on me now.

"What arrangement?" She said.

I had been avoiding this conversation. I sat down at the kitchen table and told her.

Not everything. Not the mating bond. Not Asher. But the fake relationship, the contract, the manager.

She listened without interrupting. When I finished she was quiet for a long time. Then she sat down across from me.

"Are you okay?" She asked.

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Mom." I looked at her. "I added my own condition. I negotiated."

She looked at me for a long time. Something shifted in her face. Something that looked a lot like pride trying to find its way out.

"That's strange. And the car." She said carefully. "Every day?"

"Every day."

She looked out the window at the street below. I knew she was thinking about the early mornings when she had to strife for my bus fare and about the days it rained and she had nothing to give me for a taxi.

"Okay." She said quietly. "I'm so happy, Taylor. So happy."

"Me, too, mommy."

She got up and went back to the stove. But before she turned away, I saw it. She was smiling.

And under the table during dinner, I sent a text of acknowledgement and thanks to Hunter Nightclaw.

I could not sleep that night.

By eleven o'clock I had turned over so many times that Biscuit, who had somehow squeezed through and sat on my windowsill, lifted his head and gave me a deeply unimpressed look.

"I know." I whispered. "I know. Don't mind me."

I lay on my back and stared at the ceiling.

The pink puck was on the bedside table and I would glance at it every now amd then.

I thought about the ice rink shining under lights and about how it looked at night when it was empty. I had seen it once through the glass when I stayed late after school to fantasize about Hunter.

I wanted to feel like that again. Just for a little while. So, I dressed in my thickest fur coat, sneaked out of my window and got there at half past eleven.

The side door was unlocked the way it sometimes was when the cleaning staff forgot. I had noticed that months ago during one of my late watching sessions. I had never done anything with that secret until tonight.

I found a pair of old rental skates in the equipment room in my size and put them on sitting on the bench in the dark. Then I stepped onto the ice.

The cold came up through the blades immediately. So, I stood at the edge and looked at the ice in front of me. Then I pushed off.

I fell immediately.

My knee hit the ice and I hissed through my teeth.

I got up and then, I pushed off again.

I made it four steps this time before my ankles gave and I went down sideways, landing on my hip with a thud that echoed in the empty rink.

I lay there for a second looking up at the high ceiling. Then I got up again.

And again. And again. And again.

Each time I fell I got up faster.

I was breathing hard, my hair escaping its braid, my knee throbbing under my leggings, and I was smiling.

I did not even notice I was smiling until I caught my reflection in the dark glass of the rink wall.

I was a girl on the ice, falling, getting up and falling again and still choosing to get up every single time.

That thought made me surge again and so, I pushed off again.

This time I made it six steps before I felt my balance tipping. I braced for the ice amd a hand caught my arm.

It was firm and so warm even through a jacket sleeve.

I looked up.

It was Hunter.