Page 196 of Break the Ice
He doesn’t say anything. But he’s here. Right here.
And it helps more than any word could.
I lock the screen as Finley guides us back down the snack aisle and we fill the cart with all the requests and more.
When we leave the grocery store, stepping out into the evening air, my chest is lighter. It feels good to do something instead of worrying and thinking about all the crappy possibilities.
Eli takes the cart from me before I can argue, his shoulder brushing mine in a quick squeeze as I shoot Momma a quick text while we cross the lot.
Momma
To the moon
Her reply allows me to breathe again as we load the groceries into Eli’s G-Wagon. Finley climbs into the back seat while I toss the last bag in and claim shotgun.
Eli pulls us out of the lot with his usual no-nonsense focus while I thumb through playlists.
“Are you serious about this seating thing?” Finley asks, leaning between the seats.
“Dead serious,” I tell her.
“She doesn’t get it,” Eli says, eyes on the road.
“Superstitions,” I remind her again. “We have a cup to win.”
She rolls her eyes but she’s smiling when she leans forward between us, chin on her folded arms against my seat and asks, “When am I getting my driving lessons, Elijah? Summer’s gonna need more help as she gets further along, and I can’t exactly Uber between suppliers forever.”
He glances at her in the rearview, eyes softer than his voice when he says, “Next weekend, maybe. We’ll start in a parking lot somewhere quiet.”
A low-key squeal bursts from her as she plants an exaggerated playful kiss on Eli’s shoulder. “Thank you.”
I can’t help grinning at her excitement. Seeing her this happy softens the weight of today.
“What are you going to do if she likes the fast lane?”
“Huh? What does that mean?” Finley asks.
“It means, Eli drives like a grandpa,” I tease.
Eli smirks faintly. “Do I need to remind you of the incident with Matheo’s mailbox?”
“It jumped out at me,” I mutter. “It’s in a stupid place anyway. And he doesn’t use it.”
Finley laughs at our back and forth, warm and bright in the back seat, and it’s the most normal life has felt in so long.
She reaches forward, fingers brushing mine as she steals my phone. “My turn for the music.”
When she finds something new on Spotify and the first chords fill the car, Eli glances at her in the mirror. A soft pull at his mouth while she bobs her head along to the catchy rhythm. Then as she places my phone in the cupholder, his hand skims her arm before it settles on the console waiting to touch her again when she leans forward next.
By the time we pull into the garage, the playlist’s grown by five songs. Finley’s curled into the back seat, humming along, her eyes half-lidded like she’s memorizing every note. Eli kills the engine, and she finally peels herself off the seat with this lazy stretch that makes her sweater ride up just enough to test my sanity.
We unload the groceries together, shoulders bumping, bags swinging. She drops a kiss to my jaw when I hand her the last one, quick and soft, like it’s nothing. Like it doesn’t light me up all over.
Inside, the apartment feels warmer than it did this morning. Brighter somehow, even with the shadows stretching long across the floor. Eli tosses his keys into the dish by the door, shrugs off his hoodie, and trails us to the kitchen like he’s not already scanning for ways to help.
He’s useless in the kitchen. Not even kidding. But he leans against the counter while Finley pulls vegetables from the bags and lines them up on the breakfast bar in front of him.
“We’re doing bowls, right?” she asks, glancing over her shoulder at me.
