Sisters In Love (Snow Sisters, Book One: Love in Bloom Series)

Chapter Twelve, Sisters in Love

Chapter Twelve

Two nights later, Blake sat at Sally’s kitchen table, fidgeting with his keys, a full cup of coffee in front of him. Sally had aged ten years in the few days since Dave’s death. She sat with her hands wrapped around a steaming mug, a thick, white cardigan pulled tight across her thin body. She reached up and brushed a strand of her white- blond hair from her forehead. She wore no makeup. On anyone else, her pale skin might have looked weak or worn-out. But even in her state of loss, Sally looked regal. Blake remembered all of the times he’d jokingly called her Dave’s trophy wife, and now he felt bad for making fun.

“Thanks for taking Rusty to basketball. He fought me on it. He doesn’t want to go, but I think it’s important to go on with our lives as best we can. I don’t want Rusty to lose his friends because of his father’s death. It’s too easy to fall into depression at his age.” She looked up with sad, robin’s-egg blue eyes. “He’s already got all that teenage angst going on.”

“It’s not a problem. I have nothing better to do,” Blake said, and at this point, he really didn’t have anything better to do. He’d promised himself he would refrain from his womanizing. “If you’re sure he’s ready.”

Sally nodded. “To some degree, Rusty needs this outlet. He and Dave had an argument right before…the accident.”

Blake remembered the bits and pieces of Dave’s last phone call on the slopes. He’d assumed all parents dealt with the ups and downs of hormone-filled teenagers, but that being the last conversation Rusty had with his father was too much for anyone, much less a teen to shoulder. “Then I’m happy to do it.”

Sally stood and put her mug in the sink, her back to Blake. She wrapped her arms around her body, and Blake watched her shoulders go up and down with a deep inhalation. When she turned around, her eyes were serious, her lips set in a straight line. “Blake,” she said, then squinted, as if thinking about what she was about to say.

“Yeah?”

Rusty came into the kitchen wearing sweatpants and a black, hooded sweatshirt. His blond hair, just a shade darker than Sally’s, was long and straight, the way guys wore their hair in the seventies. His face was drawn and tired. “Ready?”

Sally shook her head in Blake’s direction. “Nothing.” She went to Rusty, standing eye to eye to with her son. “Try and have fun, okay? Blake’s ready, and I’ll be here when you get home.”

Rusty turned away.

“I love you, Russ.” Sally’s voice was almost a plea rather than a statement. She wrapped her arms around her middle as Blake stood to leave with Rusty. “Thanks, Blake. Call me if you need me.”

Blake didn’t know much about teens, and he was certain his experience of losing a parent was probably different from Rusty’s. Sally adored him, and Dave had created a world that seemed to revolve around him, while Blake had a mother who’d abandoned him and a father who was always working. Blake couldn’t imagine that his mother’s abandonment was too similar to Dave's death. He was afraid to assume that it might fuel the same type of resentment, but he had to say something. Once again, Blake wished he were more adept at handling the things in life that required emotions.

“I’m real sorry about your dad, Rusty,” Blake said as they drove toward the high school.

Rusty stared out the passenger window, his hands stuffed in his sweatshirt pockets. He didn’t respond.

Okay, dad is off-limits. “So, what position do you play?” he asked.

Rusty turned toward him. His square jaw looked identical to Dave’s, but he’d clenched it so tight that it looked out of place on his youthful face. Sally’s blue eyes looked back at him—pained and unmistakably angry. “Center.” He turned back toward the window.