Scars On Ice | Charlie Conway

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When Aspen's mom got home from work on Thursday, she was surprised to see her daughter alone at the kitchen table. Her brown mess of hair was hunched over one of her textbooks, her fingertips plucking at the corner of the page as she read. She didn't even hear her mother come in.

The older woman cleared her throat, causing her daughter's head to snap up. Once the initial shock had faded, Aspen smiled. "Hey Mom. How was work?" she asked in a mousey voice. It didn't take much to see the clouded look in her eyes.

Mrs. Folsom just shrugged as she dropped her keys onto the counter. "Same old. How was school? Where's Jay?" The questions seemed to be never ending with her, but they were ten times worse when she suspected that something was wrong.

Aspen shifted almost uncomfortably, dropping her gaze back to her work. "School was fine," she murmured, her fingers returning to their absent picking, "and Jay's at Elle's hockey game."

It seemed as though the air was sucked from the room. Those few words were all it took. Aspen wasn't looking at her mother, something that the woman was grateful for. She didn't know if she could handle the forced look that was surely on her face. Aspen always appeared unbothered when it came to the hockey discussion, but everyone in their household knew exactly how hurt she really was. She had never explicitly told either of her brothers about her emotional turmoil, but there were plenty of nights where she had cried in her mom's arms after her fears forced her to miss yet another of her brothers' games. No one knew just how terrified she truly was -- no one except for her mom.

With a deep breath, Cassandra lowered herself into the seat across from her daughter. Aspen noticed that she had sat down, but didn't raise her head. She had to brace herself for the conversation that she knew was coming. She had been expecting it all week. "Asp," her mom cooed. When the girl didn't budge, she reached out and moved the textbook out of the way. "Aspen, look at me."

Begrudgingly, Aspen lifted her gaze. Her mom's brown eyes -- a gene that only Caine had received -- were clouded with concern. Aspen couldn't tell if it annoyed her or broke her heart. The woman heaved a sigh. "You should be with Jay right now. You know that, don't you?" she murmured gently, her eyes never leaving the girl's face. Her tone wasn't accusatory, but there was a certain degree of exhaustion to it. This was a race they had been running for far too long.

Aspen dropped her gaze, her foot anxiously drumming against the ground. After a moment, she shook her head. "I didn't want to go," she said simply, though there was a weakness to her voice that dignified the untruthfulness that the words held.

"Aspen, baby, how long is it going to take for you to try?" her mom asked quietly, a sense of exasperation seeping into her voice. When Aspen just shrugged, Cassandra reached out to place her hand atop of her daughter's. "I know that your accident was hard -- and I know that living with it has been even harder. But someday you have to stop running from your fears."

Aspen snorted. "I'm not exactly running anywhere these days," she joked grimly. Her mother didn't laugh, and Aspen didn't expect her to. The joke was in poor taste, but if Aspen couldn't joke about it herself, then how was she ever supposed to deal with the other kids who surely did behind her back? At this point, it was the only way to diffuse the conversation when her mom began to get teary.

Another soft sigh left her mother's lips. "Aspen," she said firmly. When the girl muttered an apology, her mom continued. "You know I don't want you to be uncomfortable. But you used to love hockey. Nothing else makes you smile the way it did."

"Did," Aspen emphasized, her gaze returning firmly to her mother's. The woman frowned at the indifferent look on her daughter's face. Her tone had a bitter bite to it, something far more abrasive than was expected. Aspen swallowed, her throat dry. "How is hockey going to make me smile if the only memory I can think of is the one that causes me more pain than anything else I've ever been though?"