Page 186 of Break the Ice
Her hair is so pretty.
I like it when she wears it down. Sometimes when we’re outside in the breeze, it smells like wild strawberries. Delicious and sweet. It’s almost impossible not to comb my fingers through it. I’ve always wondered if the smell would stick to my fingers just like it does when we go berry picking at her grandparents’ farm.
They’re nice people. They don’t punish us for taking a cookie from the pantry or laughing too hard. Her grandma doesn’t mind when I help Finley climb down from the trees in her yard.
At her house we can sit together on her couch and listen to her record player. Sometimes, when her grandpa is watching hockey, we sit with him throughout the game. Whenever his lake is frozen, he’ll even play with us.
I wish they were my grandparents, too.
“Did you like it, Elijah? Did you enjoy touching this girl?” Grandmother grunts, pulling Fin’s hair tighter before she cuts more of it off.
Pain throbs in my chest, burning up my throat where it floods my eyes. Everything blurs as the smell of sadness prickles my nose.
“Answer me, boy!”
Yes. I did like it. It was better than every other time we’ve accidentally touched and all those other times where we’ve held hands when no one can see us.
“It was her hand, grandmother. I caught her hand.” Finley shakes her head at me, telling me not to say anything else because it doesn’t matter. It never matters. “I couldn’t let her fall.”
“It was my fault,” Finley sobs over me. “I tripped and I grabbed onto the first thing I could. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Even worse,” Grandmother spits like the words are bitter on hertongue. “You bleed already; you’re not a child anymore. Touching men, seducing them with your pretty looks… nobody will think you’re so beautiful now, will they, wicked Delilah.”
“Grandmother,stop!” I lunge forward when she drops Finley with a hard shove into the cold stone floor.
The thud lurches the sick roiling in my stomach up into my throat. If I touch her now, this gets worse. It won’t be the rest of Finley’s hair she cuts next. Maybe she’ll beat her with the cane or that old belt that she keeps hanging by the back door. The buckle hooked on a wonky nail from all the other times she’s yanked it off.
Worse, she’ll make her bleed. It’s what she does. She bleeds the sin out of you. Or she purges it from you with her potion.
I can’t let her hurt Finley any more than she already has. Crouching down in front of her, I brace my hands on the cold stone a short distance from Finley’s and peer up at her through the uneven lengths of her hair. Her tears stab straight into my heart.
“I’m sorry,” I mouth to her.
A trembling smile pulls at her lips. “I’m okay,” she mouths back.
I don’t care what grandmother says, Finley’s still the prettiest girl in this town. God, she’s the most beautiful girl in the world.
“Look at you. Even now…” Grandmother’s feet plant beside me.
She’s worn the same plain black heeled shoes since I can remember. The heel is chunky so that when she punishes you with her it, the mark of it is hammered deeper than your skin.
“Where else has she touched you, Elijah? Has she kissed you?”
Silently, I hold Finley’s stare.
It was me. I kissed her cheek and her hand. Maybe one day, I’ll kiss her lips too, like the guy in the movie I watched at the hotel when I was away with the team.
“This is why you can’t touch. She’s tainted you with her sin. I can see it all over you. The damnation is burning on your skin.” Twisting her hand in the collar of my shirt, she yanks it hard enough that I cough at the choking sensation. “Get up!”
Panic flares in Finley’s bright blue eyes. They’re as clear as the summer sky when she’s happy, but right now, they’re tinged as grey as a storm cloud. Focusing on those small details will get me through whatever happens next.
Doing as Grandmother demands, I follow her to the sink. Watching Finley’s reflection in the glass as she stands, shoulders curled into themselves like she’s being physically crushed.
“Next time you’ll remember this,” Grandmother tells Finley, pouring me a small glass of her potion. “Every sin comes with a price.”
Nausea rolls in my stomach,smothering all the warmth and contentment that fluttered mere seconds ago. The air in my lungs cloys with the weight of the accusations screaming in my head.
I know there’s only one way to appease them.
