Page 128 of Ice Darling
“Are you okay?” I ask in a gentle voice, situating myself closer to her bike.
She nods.
“Can you stick around for a minute?” I grip the handle. “Gordie will want to see you.”
Cordelia hesitates, and then she shakes her head no.
I peer at her helmet.
“I’m really busy.” Her voice sounds scratchy, and when she brushes at my hand, I feel her slightly trembling. “Can you move back?”
I grip the handle tighter instead. “What’s wrong?”
“Please justmove,” she begs.
My eyes drift over her. The need to mind my own business wars with the need to make sure she’s okay.
The bike jolts forward, grumbling in a threat as she takes her foot off the ground and puts slight pressure on the throttle. “I mean it, Renthrow. I won’t be responsible if I hurt you. Hands. Off.”
I’d normally listen. I don’t push myself where I’m not wanted, and if a lady asks for space, I believe one hundred percent that no means no.
But while Cordelia’s words are warding me off, her hand is on top of mine, holding on for dear life. She’s squeezing my fingers, and it keeps me there, holding that bike and not letting her speed away.
“No,” I say quietly.
The helmet jolts, and I can feel her staring at me through the tinted black visor.
I stare right back, seeing my reflection—damp hair that’s slightly curling from being in a helmet for hours. Sweat dotting my forehead and upper lip from the sun. The firm slant of my mouth.
“I’m here,” I say. “And I’m not letting go.”
Her chest moves up and down violently, and I notice for the first time that she’s not wearing her leather jacket.
She’s sitting atop her giant bike, an intimidating mesh of power and chrome. She’s wearing a big, black helmet like armor. But “armor” is all it is. She’s much softer beneath the battle gear.
“Cordelia,” I call her name softly.
The key clicks, and the rumble of the engine dies, leaving a sharp silence. Cordelia moves fluidly. One boot knocks the kickstand back in place while the other balances the bike.
I step back a little as she pulls her helmet off and looks at me defiantly. As if to say,Here, you wanted to see me? Fine!
The first thing I notice is that her eyes are red-rimmed.
My heart lurches out of my chest. “You were crying.”
It’s not a question.
She opens her mouth, probably to say something harsh to distract from the tears still shimmering on her thick eyelashes.
But I don’t give her a chance.
“Come here.” Reaching down, I wrap my arms around her shoulders and pull her into my chest.
Chapter Forty-Three
Cordelia
Tough girls don’t need hugs.
