Page 97 of Break the Ice
“Doyou think Elijah is going to be mad?” Finley sticks in place when the elevator doors open onto our floor.
Apprehension tightens her face while I hold the doors open and give her a chance to gather herself. I’m not sure what happened between the car and now. Finley’s been chatty since we left the mall, and the drive back here has never been so short and fast before. However, as she slumps into the corner of the elevator, I can feel the frantic panicbuilding in her. I feel it as though it’s my insides that are being pulled and knotted in all kinds of directions.
“You can’t be afraid of what others think and feel, Finley. It’s your body and your life. You call the shots,” I tell her, holding out my hand to her. “Saying that, I don’t believe for one second that he’s going to be anything but happy that you are happy.”
I don’t pull back my hand while she attempts to steady her breathing, trying to visibly calm herself down. It would be so easy for me to go to her and wrap her up in me, shield her from everything the world could throw at her. But if my family has taught me anything, it’s that protecting the people we love should not come at the cost of their strength.
I deeply believe that Finley isn’t just strong, if she’s given the chance to overcome her fears, she’ll be a force of nature. And I want that for her so badly. So, instead of doing the easy thing, I plant my feet on the ground and wait for her to gather herself.
“You ever get that overwhelming sense of drapetomani?” Finley holds my hand with her narrowed stare.
“Drap—what?”
She chuckles lightly. “Drapetomani. It’s this consuming urge to run.”
“Not really.” Finley flits her gaze to mine. “I’m not a running kind of man.”
“Isn’t that the funniest?” Resting her hand in mine, she takes a step toward me. “You’re not a running kind of man, but you are the fastest.”
“Guess it makes me an oxymoron. Right?”
When she takes another step closer, I adjust our palms until our fingers lace together. There’s a whisper of a smile on her lips as she tips her face up to mine. “Look at you using the big words.”
“I gotta keep up with you somehow.”
The trill of her laugh eases the knots in my chest, making it easier to breathe again while we meander to Elijah’s door. Every particle of the air is still and quiet when we reach it and she turns to face me. Her back presses to the door as we stand smiling at each other for a beat.
I want to ask her if she wants to hang out a bit longer at my place, but at the same time, the silence around us stirs up the worry that’s been simmering in the background all afternoon.
Elijah.
We haven’t heard from him yet, and when I checked my texts, the one I sent earlier is still unread.
Holding out the Apple bag with her phone and the other Air Tags, Igive Finley one last once over before I force myself to see her inside and go home.
“These are yours.”
Finley nods, her teeth gnawing and pulling at her lip. I don’t know what’s going through her mind, but when she throws herself at me—her arms wrapping tightly around my shoulders and her face burying into the crook of my neck—I hug her back as tightly as I can. With my face smothered in her wild hair, I breathe her into my lungs. So deep, it burns.
“Thank you for today. For everything,” she murmurs, squeezing me tighter while her hot breath seeps all the way to my bones, sending a shiver of longing through me.
When I think she can’t embrace me any harder, her body presses flush to mine while her arms cross around my neck.
“I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable yesterday…earlier.”
“You didn’t make me uncomfortable, Fin,” I whisper. “It’s just complicated.”
She nods. “Thank you for being my friend.”
Finley peels herself away hesitantly, the same way that I release her slowly. I don’t know whether we stare at each other for a while or whether time stands still for us because by the time I make a move to leave, I’m craving her closeness again. Her body touching mine. I miss the heat of her breath percolating into my veins, simmering in my bloodstream as it heats through me.
“If you need anything, you know where I am.”
“I do,” she nods.
I’m tempted to take her hand and tug her back to my place with me. Maybe I should. I have food she likes; I have books and music and video games. Hell, I’m sure I have an old Scrabble board game in one of the closets. She’s good with words, and I bet she could beat my ass. If she came back with me, she wouldn’t have to worry about tiptoeing around the place.
But Elijah.
