Leaving Tracks by Victoria Escobar Page B

that seemed to come with the question. I wasn’t very trustful of kindness. I’d had so little that to get any outside my sisters felt insincere. 
    North walked over to where I sat and picked up some books to shelf them without speaking for a moment. “Originally, I thought I could charm, or finagle you into coaching. And if I wasn’t neighborly and friendly my ma would come back from beyond just to box my ears after my brothers did it.”
    “And now?”
    North shelved more books before answering. “Your face when you offered to let me skate whenever I wanted hurt me almost as much as, I imagine, it hurt you. I could see that it hurt you so badly–like alcohol in an open wound–and yet you offered anyway. I’d still like you to coach, but I’d rather it be your freely made decision than for me to, well, bully you into doing it. I can wait, I’ve waited this long. And when you’re ready, I’m sure you’d be a more effective coach if it were your choice rather than my pleading. So I’m here, being neighborly and friendly because I think you need neighborly and friendly. If you’d rather I leave, I will.” He smiled down at my up turned face then, on I think it was an impulse, ran his fingers lightly over my cheek. “You’re eyes are tired, Hadley. And sad. I can’t really help with the tired, but I’m hoping that friendship, and understanding, can help with the sad.”
    I didn’t swipe his hand away but closed my eyes and let the sensation sink into my skin. No one had ever offered simple friendship. No one had ever touched me so gently or carefully before. Something in my heart stirred, and I refused to examine it. I would just go with the flow. I could do that for now; just take life as it was given. When I opened my eyes I gave him my best smile. “No.” I decided, “You’re fine. You can hang while I fold.”
    I thought about his words as we set my place to rights. With clothes folded and hung, the computer set up, unpacking was rapidly coming to a close. It wouldn’t hurt; I decided to watch an audition. It was a friendly and understanding thing to do wasn’t it? It’d been so long since I had friends, I wasn’t sure anymore.
    I walked down with North intending on food before taking trash bags to the office and training table. “There’s a gym in there.” I gestured down passed the refrigeration door. “The weights will probably be fine, I have no idea on the treadmill or rower or bicycle.”
    “Equipment is usually built to last.” North stated standing in the doorway looking in. “What’s up the other stairs?”
    “Personal trainer’s apartment. It should be empty as she brought all her own stuff and took it with her when I left.” I rubbed my arms as the chill of the ice hit me. I hadn’t remembered to grab a jacket to go over my sweater. “You can use the gym whenever you’d like as well.”
    “We have one at the house. Not that anyone ever has the energy to use it.” North took off his coat and draped it over my shoulders. “I’ll walk with you over to the house. My blood’s thicker than yours.” He held the door for me and we stepped out together.
    “What time do you usually start in the morning?” I asked oddly comfortable wrapped in the warmth and smell of his jacket.
    “ Thierry starts before the sun rises. Four I think.”
    “I take it you don’t?”
    “No. We’ve had that fight, and I’ve won it. I start at seven thirty during the winter and five thirty during the summer. Summers suck. When Rhett’s home, he does the evening chores and I do the morning ones. It keeps everything balanced–I think he gets the easy time. I’d rather the evening chores but I lost that fight. He’s up with the horses anyway, but I get stuck getting dragged out of bed.”
    “That’s good then,” I thought aloud and stepped into the breakfast nook through the French doors with North behind me closing the door firmly.
    “Why is that good?” He stared out the window a