Page 33 of Melt the Ice

Wilson chuckles from his spot on the couch. “Stop thanking us for doing exactly what you’d do if any of us were in this situation.” I flinch, he’s right. So why do I feel like I don’t fully deserve it?

13

scarlett

It’s Halloween, and for once, I’m actually excited for it. Hannah called and asked if they could set up a little fall festival here for the Wilder Foundation kids. I wouldn’t have said no, but then she said it was Lucas’s idea, and I’ll take any chance to be in his orbit, so I chomped at the bit.

My steps falter as I take in the sad little girl sitting away from the rest of the group. The very one I left hanging last time she was here. Taking a deep breath, I move toward her, drawn by a quiet ache that seems to mirror my own.

“Hey, Lily.” She lifts her head to me, her sad eyes are bloodshot and swimming with unshed tears. I breathe in, holding it for a few seconds before sinking down at her side. “Are you okay?”

“Why do you care?” She bites back.

I can’t help but chuckle, which only makes her scowl deepen, “You know Miller told me that you’re a lot like me when I was your age. He was right.”

She scrunches her nose, “Does that mean I’m going to be old, lonely, and miserable when I’m your age, too?” A laugh rises in my throat, bright and unapologetic, until tears prick at the corners of my eyes. Partly because of what she just said, partly because it sounds a hell of a lot like something I would have said.

The sun beats down on us, making my hair cling to the outside of my arm. Shifting, I angle myself until our shoulders almost touch. My smile feels warm. I hope she sees it that way, too. “You know, I hope not.” I chuckle. “But I also hope I'm not old, lonely, and miserable when I grow up.”

I clear my throat, calling on Little Scarlett, the piece of me who knows how to hold space for someone else, who can soothe instead of destroy. “I had a really tough childhood. I wasn’t really allowed to be a kid. Except when I was here.”

She looks up at me with big blue eyes, tears welling up behind her eyelids again as she sniffles, “I did too, my dad died when I was seven.”

Huh, maybe that’s why she and Lucas are so close. “My brother, Cade, protects me, but sometimes he’s not around, and kids are mean. They call me little orphan.”

My fingers dig into the ground, the voice of our own bully rings to life in my ears the second she said “little orphan.”

“If it isn’t beauty and the reject.” Grant, one of the ranch cook’s sons, says as Lucas and I head back to the house from the river.

I step in front of Lucas, the corner of my lip pulls up at this kid who I can’t stand. I’ve seen my dad do this very face hundreds of times. It terrifies me every time, so I hope it’ll work here. “Don’t talk to him like that,” I growl.

“I’ll talk to him however I want. What are you going to do about it?” He throws back.

I don’t even think before my fist connects with his throat. “I said, don’t talk to him like that, you waste of space.”

He stands up a bit straighter, taking a step toward me, and I mirror him. “Kiss your mother with that mouth, Scarlett?”

I narrow my eyes as a villainous smile grows across my face, “I don’t kiss my mama at all, but you…” I poke him in the chest with my finger, pushing back against him slightly. “Can kiss my ass.”

I don’t realize I’m crying until little hands wipe them from my face. “Are you okay, Ms. Scarlett?”

I smile and nod. I am, for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel totally scared to be that little girl. Maybe it's because of the tough cookie sitting next to me. Maybe it’s because I’m tired of hurting everyone around me, myself included. Instead of retreating like I want to, I sit with it. Lean into it even. “I am. Can I tell you a story?”

She looks at me and smiles, then, in typical child fashion, climbs into my lap without invitation and waits in anticipation for me to start talking. “Do you believe in fairy tales?” I ask, her eyes widen, and she quickly nods.

“I asked your Uncle Lucas that question when I was your age,” I boop her on the nose, and her mouth falls open.

“Are you his special friend?! He tells me stories about you all the time. You guys are the prank king and queen! He told me about the one time you put fire ants in someone’s sleeping bag because they called Moolan ugly.” My head falls back behind me as I let out yet another laugh. I completely forgot about that.

“Yeah, that’s me,” I say on a softer laugh. “I don’t think you should do that, though. We got in a lot of trouble for it.”

She smiles and curls herself into my chest, and I find myself wrapping my arms around her shoulders. “Rapunzel was always my favorite. She was so cool. Her entire life had been taken from her. She had no control over it. Until she decided to take control of it herself.” I say softly.

She tips her head back, “I like Rapunzel, but I think Cinderella is my favorite. Only because the animals talk.”

Hmm, yeah, I always wished that was my superpower as a kid. Wouldn’t it be cool if they actually talked back? Although I’m sure they’d have some brutally honest things to say, kinda like kids do.

I hum, “Yeah, I wish animals could talk in real life too.” She just nods against me, and I take that as my cue to continue. “My life has kind of been like Rapunzel’s. My parents really like to control what I do, so I wasn’t allowed to do a lot of normal things kids do. Except for when I was here. And Lucas, well, he was kind of my prince. He showed me a different side of life, one where I could just be me without trying to be what other people wanted me to be. But then, when my Nana died, I was taken away from him. Locked in the tower with my parents, you could say.”