Page 107 of From Ice to Grace
He gives a short laugh, low and tired. “Years of practice.”
I step into the kitchen, the need for peppermint tea has me filling the kettle and placing it on the burner. I’m grateful to have something to do with my hands given the awkwardness that now fills our home. Awkwardness that hasn’t been present, not ever for a second, since we got married.
“Can I make you some tea? Peppermint?”
He shakes his head, running his hand through his hair before taking a seat at the counter, drumming his fingers on the counter top in a restless rhythm.
“You spoke to Boqvist,” he says at last.
I take two mugs from the cupboard, set on making him some tea too. “I did.”
He doesn’t say anything else. The water starts to boil, the whistling kettle filling the space between us.
“Are you alright?” he asks, his voice filled with worry even though he can’t seem to look at me.
“I’m fine.” I drop the tea bags into the mugs, watching it swirl as I add the boiling water. “It had to happen, Declan. I needed to face him at some point.”
When I glance up, he’s watching me, his jaw tight. He runs his hand over his mouth.
“And now you have.”
“Yes,” I say softly. “And I’m glad. It’s like I’ve been locked inside a room for a year, and now I finally get to go outside again.”
He nods, slow and careful, like he’s trying to figure something out without saying a word. I can feel the weight of whatever’s on his mind settling between us.
I hand him a mug anyway. “You sure you don’t want?—”
He takes it before I finish. “Thanks,” he says, his fingers brushing against mine. His hand is warm, rough and it sends a spark running through me, reminding me of the kiss we shared before the game.
“So what did he say?” he asks.
I hesitate, not sure I want to go through everything again. “He apologized for what happened.”
His dark gaze narrows, anger filling his expression. “Just like that?”
I nod. There’s more of course. Explanations that I didn’t want, brought up memories and shared history that left an ache in my heart.
“I don’t care about the reasoning behind his actions. It’s in the past. I’m moving on.”
He lifts his gaze, the golden flecks in his eyes bright as he studies me. “So you’re done with Boqvist?”
I hold his gaze. “I’m done.”
Declan’s expression switches, like he’s challenging me. “He didn’t look done with you.”
“That’s his problem.”
“Is it?” he asks, a slight chuckle coming from him. “He’s here for you, Snowflake. What if he stays?”
I shrug. I haven’t thought that part through yet. If he stays, I’ll deal with it. What else am I going to do? Run? I’m not going to let him dictate my life any longer.
“Then he stays,” I answer simply.
He nods again, too quickly this time, like he’s agreeing even though he doesn’t believe me. He pushes off his seat, setting his mug down harder than necessary.
“What is it?” I press further. “Do you not believe me?”
“Do you really think it’s that simple?” he asks, letting out a mirthless laugh. “You’ve been running from the guy for a year, Avah. And now you want me to believe it wouldn’t matter if he decides to stay here?”
