Page 29 of Break the Ice
“That give people heart attacks,” he says, still laughing.
His hair is dripping-dark at the roots, sun-bleached ends drying wild in every direction. Like the cowlick his grandmother used to press flat with spit before service. That’s the most grandmotherly thing I ever saw her do. His father’s harshness always followed.
It’s a miracle Elijah is gentle. A miracle he’s warm at all.
“I want to make you pancakes.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to, Elijah. I need to do something for you. Please.”
“Okay.” He chews his lip, glancing toward the fridge. “I’m out of milk?—”
“I noticed. You don’t have flour either.”
“I don’t, but my neighbor does.” He points a finger like a promise. “I’ll be right back.”
I slide everything but the berries back into place and start slicing them. The door opens again a minute later, and Elijah returns with the missing ingredients… and Jayden.
The bruising still shadows his face, raccoon-dark around his eyes, the bridge of his nose puffy. Even like this he’s handsome.
He gives me a lazy wave and deposits almond milk, a parchment of bacon, and a carton of eggs in front of me.
“Mr. Precious’ nut milk. Just for you,” he says, jazz-handing the carton with a grin.
“Seriously?” Elijah flicks the back of his head. “You just got in the door.”
“You told me not to be weird.” Jayden looks over with an innocent face, catching a glare. “What? It is your nut milk.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“And you’re a grumpy asshole. Anyway—” He pivots back to me. “—I hear you’re making pancakes.”
“Maybe I’ll uninvite you,” Elijah mutters.
“Yeah… no. That’s not happening. I never pass up pancakes, especially when they’re sold to me as the best in the world.”
“I said the best on the West Coast.”
“Yeah, but you should’ve said the best in the world because that’s what a man says about his girl’s cooking.” Jayden drops onto a stool and watches me finish with the fruit. “Did you enjoy the game last night?”
“You mean the goal you scored or the assists?” I glance up, teasing.
He glows a little, even bruised. There’s something about him, an open curiosity that catches light, the way a room brightens when he laughs.
“It was great, right?”
“Your modesty is second to none,” Elijah says, pouring him coffee.
Jayden drowns it in creamer from his shorts pocket. When he opens his mouth, Elijah cuts him dead. “Don’t. Don’t say it.”
“Fuck me, it’s right on the tip of my tongue, man. Like, do you know how hard it is for me to swallow it?”
“You can do it. Swallow the innuendo, JJ.”
A laugh bursts out of me at their rhythm. Elijah’s eyes keep crinkling at the corners. I wonder if he’s always like this around Jayden. If he realizes he hasn’t stopped smiling since Jayden walked in. A small ache pinches my ribs—close to jealousy, except I like what Jayden does to him too much to resent it.
As if he hears me thinking, Jayden narrows his eyes playfully.
