Page 21 of ICED
“You ever think,” he says slowly, “that you get drawn to people who need fixing?”
I shoot him a look. “You saying she’s broken?”
“Nah, not what I meant.” He shifts, suddenly serious. “I meantyoudon’t always let people carry you. You’re always the strong one. The safe one.”
I glance down. Picking at the label again.
“I don’t want to fix her,” I say quietly. “I just want her to know she doesn’t have to be scared with me.”
Ollie doesn’t reply right away. Then he exhales sharplyand nods. “She’s lucky to have you. Even if she doesn’t know it yet.”
“I’m not sure she’d agree.”
He eyes me. “That kid does. Lila. She called you Mr Bear, mate. That means something. Kids don’t lie about people. They feel it in their guts.”
I think about that. About Lila’s sticky little hand offering me raisins and trust. About Maya’s trembling fingers when the childminder was late.
“She was terrified something had happened,” I murmur. “She didn’t say it, but I could feel it.”
“Yeah,” Ollie says. “That kind of fear doesn’t come outta nowhere.”
We sit in silence for a bit, the comfortable kind. Two oversized idiots with beers and bruises, saying more in what we don’t say.
Then Ollie clears his throat. “You gonna tell her you like her?”
“Not yet,” I admit. “She’s not ready. And I’m not sure I know the whole picture.”
“You’re scared too,” he says, grinning. “Soft bastard.”
“Takes one to know one.”
He bumps my knee with his. “Just promise me something.”
“What?”
“If she does let you in, don’t mess it up.”
“I won’t.”
I think of her eyes, shadowed with something she hasn’t said out loud. The way she thanks me like it hurts to do it. The way she stands between her daughter and the world like a soldier.
I won’t mess it up. Because this isn’t just about fancying someone. This feels like something deeper. Something fragile and fierce.
Like love, but still unnamed. Like a promise I haven’t made yet but already mean.
And I know, Iknow, I’m not just falling for Maya.
I’m falling for both of them.
Sticky raisins and all.
CHAPTER TEN
JACKO
The bell above the bakery door jingles as I step inside, the warm, yeasty scent wrapping around me like a well-worn jumper. It’s a comforting contrast to the cold rink air and the clinical smell of the physio room where Mia just finished working on my shoulder. The heat pack’s gone, but there’s still a dull ache from this morning’s light skate with the team; still no contact, as Ollie keeps reminding me.
The bakery’s quiet this afternoon, the lunchtime rush long gone. Maya’s behind the counter, expertly icing a batch of cupcakes, her brows furrowed like she’s solving a particularly stubborn crossword puzzle. Lila’s sitting at a small table, her tiny fingers playing with a pile of colourful sprinkles, concentrating hard as if she’s conducting some kind of serious scientific experiment.
