Page 48 of ICED
That shouldn’t make my stomach flip the way it does.
Lila’s door creaks open, her sleepy face peeking around it.
“Bear?”
His voice softens immediately. “Hey, Lila. Couldn’t stay away, huh?”
She trots over, curls messy and one sock half off. “Did you bring the sparkly cakes?”
He lifts the bag. “Close. Carrot cake. Emergency stash.”
She beams and holds up her arms. “Up?”
He lifts her like she weighs nothing, settling her on his hip. I watch them, heart thudding against my ribs. She’s never taken to someone this fast. Never let herself. She’s always held back, like me.
I lead them to the sofa, grabbing napkins from the kitchen. Lila snuggles in against him, content and already halfway through her slice. He glances at me over her head.
“You look tired,” he says gently.
I nod, sitting beside them. “Just catching my breath, I think. It’s been a full-on few weeks.”
He doesn’t push. Just offers me the cake.
I take it.
We eat in silence, save for Lila’s sugar-fuelled ramblings about sparkles and skating and how she wants a pony with glitter wheels.
Then, after she’s wiped sticky fingers on his hoodie and wandered back to bed, Owen turns toward me slightly.
“Can I ask you something?” he says, tone cautious but warm.
“Of course.”
“I was thinking…” He scratches the back of his neck. “Lila liked watching the players on the ice. She got so excited when she saw the kids skating during intermissions.”
“She did,” I say slowly, already sensing where this is going.
He meets my eyes. “I’d really like to teach her. If you’re okay with it. Nothing serious, just messing around on the rink when it’s quiet. I can get access. We’d go slow. Real slow. Just to let her try it out.”
My chest tightens. Not because I don’t trust him. But because I do.
And that’s scarier.
“She’s never even worn skates,” I say, stalling. “She’s clumsy like me. She might hate it. Or break something.”
He smiles, patient. “Then we stop. But if she loves it… I’d be honoured to be the one who shows her.”
The silence stretches. He doesn’t rush me. He never does.
“She’s never had a…” I trail off, then start again. “There haven’t been many people in her life who stick around. I’ve made sure of that.”
“I know.”
“I’ve had to be careful.”
“I know,” he repeats, softer this time. “And I’ll still be here whether she skates or not. Whether you say yes or not.”
The tears threaten before I can stop them.
