Page 64 of Melt the Ice

I sigh as his words settle over me. “I’m still supposed to grieve, no? Make progress.”

I don’t tell him that I was starting to feel okay until Lettie showed me that picture, and it stirred up so many different feelings. What part of my life after my dad died has been real? Was Lettie and I meeting somehow orchestrated, and I just believed it was fate my entire life?

He slides to a stop in front of me, holding up his wrist that houses the tattered bracelet he fiddles with every time we get on a plane. He never takes it off, but he never talks about it either. “My Millie girl.” His eyes fill with tears as he looks at it. He’s not an emotional guy, and I itch to pull him into a hug, but I don’t think that’s what either of us needs right now.

“Cecilia begged my parents and me to let her get on that plane with us.” He sniffles, still looking at the fraying thread. “I’ve never been more thankful that my parents wanted Millie and me to end up together as badly as we wanted to be together ourselves. Mom told Cecy we needed privacy. She could come with us next time.”

He starts skating again. I follow suit. “She made this for me on that flight. It went down twenty miles from where we were meant to land.” He swallows, throat bobbing as a tear escapes. “There was nothing I could do.”

My chest aches as I watch the resident shit stirrer wipe a tear from his face. His entire personality makes a heck of a lot more sense once you know what he’s trying to bury. “Sammy…”

He shakes his head, dropping his hand to his side. “My point is, I drown the memory in alcohol and women every chance I get, and that happened when I was fifteen.”

He stops next to me again, this time putting his hand on my shoulder. “There is no right or wrong way to grieve, man. It’s different for everyone. But you’ve been grieving her loss for years. Now it’s just permanent.”

Who would have thought I’d be getting words of advice from him? Sure, he’s one of my best friends, but he only lets you see what he wants you to see and hides everything else under the facade of “playboy.”

I guess we’re not so different. He’s right, I have been grieving for a long time. I’ve just hid it behind my desire to make sure none of my friends ever felt the way I felt. Lost, alone, and abandoned.

“You have every right to be angry, Monroe. It’s okay to work it out on the ice. In fact, I’m sure coach would love nothing more than a slightly more aggressive version of you when we go out of town after New Year's.”

My chuckle rumbles in my chest. I’m sure he would. “But, and I know I’m being a hypocrite to the tenth degree here, you aren’t alone, and you don’t have to shoulder this by yourself, either. You’ve got us, we’ll carry you as long as we need to.” He stops, looking at something over my shoulder, smirking before he looks back at me.

“More importantly, you have her.” He points at the glass, and there, on the other side, is Lettie, wrapped up in the hoodie I pulled over her head the last time she was here. My chest seizes, heart skipping a beat, not that I’m not happy to see her, but I’m not exactly ready to face her disappointment.

When she steps up to the open door, I see her skates already attached to her feet. Her timing is lethal, or maybe perfect. The exact thing I need right now. I can’t tell anymore.

My smile breaks through the heaviness that’s been following me around this morning. It's a reflex, an instinct when she’s involved. As I skate toward her, my hand extends, sliding to a slow stop in front of her.

“Hey, Lettie Girl.” Her eyes are red-rimmed, as is the tip of her nose, but somehow, she still smiles as her hand slides into mine. I don’t deserve her softness today. Not right now.

She takes a second to find her balance, “Abby called. I hope it’s okay that I’m here.”

She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, clearly nervous that I’ll tell her to leave. “I know you said you needed some time, but she said you needed me, and I couldn’t…”

She sighs, shaking her head as she pulls her hand from mine and crosses her arms over her chest. A tiny part of me panics at the loss of contact. “I couldn’t just leave you. I couldn’t stay away knowing you were hurting. And I’m sorry if that makes you mad, but I just can’t do it, Lucas. You mean way too much to me.”

For a moment, I stand before her, wondering how I got here. How I let myself slip back into the dark after being good for weeks. Shame and guilt swirl like poison in my gut, so acidic it threatens to choke me. She has no idea how close I came to losing myself again. How easy it still is to reach for the neck of good ole’ Don. How much I despise that it is.

I want to tell her, I want to beg her to never leave me alone again. But that would be counterproductive. I need to be able to stand on my own. Instead, I bring my hand to her cheeks, dragging her closer to me. My lips slant against hers, swallowing the rest of her words before they undo me completely.

She melts into me, my hand moves to rest on the small of her back, pressing her further into me. My tongue sliding against the seam of her lips, she opens for me as she slides her hands into my hair.

I laugh against her when she recoils, “I’m sweaty, sorry.”

When her hand wraps around the back of my neck, the other finds purchase against my cheek as we lose ourselves in one another. I allow myself to feel it. Not run from it, not hide behind her. Just... feel.

The guilt doesn’t vanish. It lingers behind my ribs, even as I deepen the kiss. No one tells you how bad healing hurts, and maybe that’s what this is. Pain with a greater purpose.

When we pull away, we’re alone, our heated breath making little clouds between us. I’ll have to thank my teammates for letting me have a minute with her. Although I’m sure they knew exactly what I needed.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

Her eyes widen, “Really?”

“Yeah,” I say, the truth settling over me with surprising clarity. “Really.”

I take her hands, pulling her across the ice. Her confusion morphs into something brighter the faster we start to move, until eventually her arms are out to the side, my hands on her hips as I push her from behind. “Weee!” she yells, and I can’t help the laugh that falls from me.