Page 24 of Frost
I nod. “That makes sense.”
“Does it?” Jack smiles over at me. “Aren’t you always questioning magic, needing a clear-cut answer?”
“I’m beginning to see that not everything can be explained. And I need to be okay with that.”
Ever since I was little, I imagined fantasy worlds and pretended they were real even though I knew they weren’t. I wanted to believe in magic, but something kept me from fully doing so. Now, Jack has opened my eyes. He’s shown me that all the things I imagined while youngerdoexist.
“How far is your hovel?” I ask after several minutes of silence.
Jack shoulder bumps me. “I do not live in a hovel.”
“A tree, then?”
“Someone’s impatient. Just wait until we get there.” He squats down suddenly, and I stop beside him. He leans down to a patch of grass sticking out from the snow and softly blows. Snowflakes drift from his mouth and land on the exposed grass, covering it within seconds.
“Are you, like, made of snowflakes?” I ask, blinking a few times to make sure I’m seeing it correctly.
He laughs and rises to his feet. “I guess you can say that.”
“I’ve seen the ones on your skin.” We start walking again, and I reach over and grab his hand. It’s not skin to skin because of my gloves, but I like having his hand in mine. “They’re beautiful.”
Jack looks at our joined hands before smiling and looking ahead. His fingers lightly squeeze mine. “I felt you tracing them on my back last night. I was worried you’d find them… I don’t know, strange.”
“Well, no other guy I’ve ever been with had literal snowflakes embedded in his skin, so yeah, I’d say it’s a little strange.” I spin toward him and snatch hold of his lean waist, meeting his gaze. “But it’s not a bad strange. I like it.”
Blue eyes search mine, doubt shining in them. “You’re peculiar, Luka.”
“How so?”
He continues walking, and I keep pace beside him, our hands still linked between us. Though overcast, the sky is bright, and streams of light periodically find us through the coverage of trees. Jack is quiet. Pensive. His brow wrinkles as he looks at me.
“Because I’ve never met anyone like you in all my years,” he finally says. “You see the things that make me different from you, and you embrace them. You accept me as I am. Most humans fear what they don’t understand, yet you find it beautiful.”
Oh, my beautiful Jack.
The vulnerability in his voice strikes my chest like a burning arrow.
“Everything about you is incredible,” I respond. “I’m the ordinary one. Ordinary is boring.”
“Not to me.” His voice takes on a gentler tone. “I’ve always craved an ordinary life.”
I stop on the path. “Really?”
“Yes.” Jack releases my hand and turns to me. His vulnerability from earlier reflects on his face—in his eyes. “I crave a simple life, still around snow of course, but one filled with human experiences. I’m always on the outside looking in, never truly being part of the world I bring winter to. You were right when you said immortality is like a curse. I can spend time with other immortals, yet that’s not where my heart lies.” He glances up at the trees. “My heart is here, Luka. In the mortal world.”
“Is there a way for you to have that kind of life? A way for you to…” I swallow hard and wet my dry lips. “To be mortal?”
Hope flares in my chest, and before I can stop myself, I imagine a life with Jack. Areallife. We would go on dates to the movie theater and out to eat. I’d take him paintballing or something else ridiculous that would make him laugh but also bring us closer. We’d go out for coffee and walk hand in hand in the park. Each night we’d go to sleep in each other’s arms and wake up that way the next morning.
“No,” he says, then strides forward. His hands clench and unclench at his sides, and frost forms on his fingertips. “I ask you not to mention it ever again.”
The hope deflates right where it began. I shouldn’t have ever let my mind wander to such impossibilities anyway. If there was a way for Jack to be mortal, I’m sure he would’ve done it by now.
“Jack?” I jog after him. Damn, he moves fast. “I’m sorry I upset you.”
He pins me with a hard glare, and his icy eyes chill me to the bone. I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. I’ve never seen him look so angry. It takes me off guard. And then, he breathes deep, his tight shoulders relaxing on the exhale.
“I know you didn’t mean to upset me,” he says. “I just don’t like being reminded of what I can’t have. It’s my fault for first mentioning it. I apologize for my frosty behavior.”
