Page 202 of Break the Ice
“Better than you moping on the corner like a stray cat,” she fires back, slinging an arm around my shoulders as we start walking. “They’re back in four days. You can survive four days. Until then, you have me.”
I glance at her. “And your mystery meat sticks.”
“They’re keto-friendly,” she says primly, tearing open another one with her teeth before handing the rest to Samson.
“They look like dog treats.”
“Don’t food shame me, Finley,” she says with a mock glare before laughing at herself.
It pulls at something in my chest that I didn’t realize was coiled so tight.
With her arm looped around mine, she tugs me along like she’s dragging me back into the world.
By the time we hit the park, Samson is dragging us like he’s on a mission, his leash yanking taut until we finally unclip him in the fenced-in area. He takes off in wild, looping circles, a blur of paws and ears.
Christina drops onto a bench with a groan, patting the spot beside her. “So… the boys.”
I roll my eyes, sitting. “Here we go.”
“Here we go,” she repeats with a smirk.
“They’re… good,” I say slowly, picking at the hem of my sleeve.
“Good,” she echoes, bumping her shoulder into mine. “That’s the best you’ve got? Good?”
“They make me feel…” My words knot together before I can finish.
She doesn’t push, just watches me quietly, her hand covering mine on my knee.
So, I deflect. “What about Matheo?”
Her smirk turns wicked. “I told you already. Monster dick. Hips made by God himself. Puts the stallion in Brazilian.”
I groan, shoving her shoulder lightly. “That makes zero sense.”
“It will if you ever ride a Brazilian stallion,” she fires back, and I dissolve into helpless laughter right there on the bench.
We watch Samson wrestle a stick out of the dirt like it personally insulted him. Christina tells me about her dad’s New Year’s Eve gala and the vintage dress she bought for it. About her GYN appointment next week and how I need to get myself sorted for birth control before Jayden and Elijah get back.
The heat crawling up my neck at that makes her cackle.
“Relax,” she says, looping her arm through mine again as we start walking. “No one’s going to hurt you for taking care of yourself.”
“I know,” I say, and for the first time, I realize I mean it. The thought lands solid in my chest, not like the old fear still crouching in the corners of my head, waiting to spring.
Samson barrels back toward us at full speed, mud flying off his paws.
“Don’t you dare—” I start, but he launches at me like I’m the last lifeboat on the Titanic.
Christina shrieks when I grab at her for balance, and we both go down in the dirt, arms and legs tangled, dog slobber everywhere.
“Abort! Abort!” she yells, laughing so hard she can’t get up while Samson barks like this is the best game he’s ever played.
By the time we wrangle him off, we’re a mess. Muddy, breathless, and laughing until my stomach hurts.
Christina flops back on the bench, hair sticking to her cheeks. “Okay. New plan. Shopping, then dinner, then a movie.”
I blink at her, wiping dirt off my sleeve. “I’ve never been to the movies.”
