The Year We Hid Away: A Hockey Romance (The Ivy Years Book 2)
The Year We Hid Away: A Hockey Romance: Part 1 – Chapter 10

-SCARLET-

I GOT my graded midterm back at the end of statistics class the following Tuesday. As Bridger and I walked toward our music theory lecture, I held it up for him to see. On the top, “87%” had been penned in bright red letters. “See that?” I said, skipping down the sidewalk like an idiot. A happy idiot. “Do you have any idea how smart I am? That’s why you hang around with me, isn’t it? Tell the truth.”

“You’ve got me all figured out, babe.” Bridger reached over and pinched my ass. Then he took my hand. “Damn, your fingers are cold,” he said, massaging them. Then he brought my hand up to his lips and kissed it.

God, I had it bad for this guy. But could you blame me?

November had arrived, and people began to talk about their plans for the holidays. I was relieved to learn that the dorms didn’t close over Thanksgiving weekend. That meant that I could make it all the way to mid-December without having to go home to New Hampshire.

“You’re not flying home?” Bridger asked when I brought it up.

The question confused me, because I’d forgotten for a second that I was supposed to be from Miami Beach. I shook my head. “I’m not going to bother. It’s only four days, anyway. A long weekend.”

“This place really empties out over Thanksgiving,” he warned, his eyes studying me.

I shrugged. “That’s okay. What are you and Lucy up to?” It had suddenly occurred to me that I might get to see him over break.

“Usually we go to Hartley’s mother’s house. But this year he’s going to be with his fancy dad on an island somewhere. So I thought we’d stay here,” he said. “But then my fire door neighbor,” He paused to raise his eyebrows suggestively, until I laughed. “He invited us to his place, which is about ninety minutes away. Lucy and I might stay for the weekend.”

“That’s so nice,” I said, hoping to convey the proper amount of enthusiasm, even though I’d rather have him here with me.

“Yeah, it is. But you know how I feel about accepting help. And I don’t want his parents knowing that Lucy lives with me. But I also don’t want to ask an eight year old to lie. So I haven’t decided what to do.”

Stay here with me! I thought loudly. “What are you going to do about Christmas?” The vacation was three weeks long, and the dorms were closed. I’d already checked.

When I looked into Bridger’s eyes, I saw that I’d asked exactly the wrong question. Because there was an exhaustion there that hurt me to see. “No idea. We’ll probably go to Hartley’s for some of that time. I’ll try to replace a house-sitting gig, or something.”

I squeezed his hand, wishing I could offer any kind of help. But my options were as limited as his.

That afternoon, I didn’t get to have lunch with Bridger, because Lucy’s school let out early for an in-service. This seemed like very bad luck, at least until I got back to Vanderberg, where an unfamiliar voice called out to me.

“Shannon Ellison.”

The sound of my old name stopped me cold. But I didn’t recognize the petite woman in the suit who was waving me down beside the entryway. “That’s not my name,” I protested.

“I’m sorry,” the woman said with a frown. “It’s Scarlet now, right?”

I must be the biggest idiot alive. Because this woman had just gotten me to confess to my old identity. I looked over both shoulders, checking to make sure that no one was near enough to overhear. “Who are you?”

“I’m Madeline Teeter, assistant district attorney for your home state. I’d like to speak with you. And I figured you would be coming back to New Hampshire for Thanksgiving. Let’s set something up now, and we’ll meet next week.”

It took me a second to process the idea that the D.A. had come all the way down to Harkness to ask me for a meeting. I almost felt sorry for her. “I cannot speak to you. And just to put your mind at ease, I wouldn’t be any help anyway.”

She shook her head. “We can subpoena you, Scarlet. We can schedule a deposition. You don’t want that. That’s a whole room full of lawyers and a sworn testimony. It would be so much easier for you to just answer a few questions voluntarily. Come in for the interview, Scarlet. If you have nothing for us, it will keep you off the witness stand.”

“I can’t,” I whispered. Surely she knew that. My parents would have me boiled in oil.

To her credit, the prosecutor didn’t look surprised that her ninety-minute drive would be in vain. She handed me a business card. “Take this. If you change your mind, my cell phone is right there. Think about it, Scarlet. A chat with me would be quick and painless.”

I took the card between two fingers. “I’m not kidding. I don’t know a thing.”

She nodded, still calm. “I believe you. But it’s my job to ask a lot of questions, and to learn what there is to learn. And there are boys who need me to ask. If you talk to me, you’ll be helping some people who are in a lot of pain. Even if you think there’s no point, do it for them.”

Well, ouch. She was willing to play the guilt card. But it didn’t really matter, because I truly knew nothing. I fished my key card out of my pocket. “I’m going now,” I said. My voice only shook a little.

“Call me,” she said, turning away.

I didn’t watch her go.