Page 67 of Melt the Ice

His chest rumbles under me, a laugh so pure that it brings a tear to my eye, especially after the morning he had. “I’ll carry you anywhere you want, sweetheart. Just name the time and place.”

“Who could refuse an offer like that?” I mumble as he carries us inside, setting me on the island while he moves around the kitchen, putting together our favorite snacks.

It’s moments like this that I’m thrown back in time. We’re not adults, but kids standing on chairs to reach the microwave, putting M&M’s in our popcorn, and drinking soda through sour straws.

“I love you, Goldie.”

He pauses, knife inches above the butter he was slicing. His head turns to look at me over his shoulder, and a satisfied smile plays on his lips before he tosses me a wink.

“I know.” He says, then turns back around and slices through the stick, dropping the slab of butter in a small glass bowl, and letting it melt in the microwave. A fluttering starts in my stomach, brushing against my ribs in a way that makes my feet swing as they dangle from the island. To anyone else, they might be offended that he didn’t say it back. But to me, for him to know… That’s the ultimate win.

28

lucas

Tonight is the framily book club Christmas Party, and while I’m usually the jolliest asshole this side of the nuthouse, armed to the teeth with jokes and spiked cider with exactly zero shame about showing up in full Santa gear. Today, my mind’s louder than a Christmas Parade.

Hannah and Abby informed us that we needed to dress up, and, if I’m honest, I complained about it until Lettie showed up with matching pajamas for the two of us. Hers look like they’re freakin’ painted on, the red stripes wrap around her ass in a way that makes me want to unwrap her like the present she embodies. Suddenly, I'm more than happy that I’ve been a damn good boy this year. Well, for the most part.

“Did you finish the chapter?” she asks as she saunters closer to me, adding extra sway to her hips as she goes.

“Scarlett Arias,” I drawl, brow lifting, “are you trying to seduce me?”

She steps between my knees, palms resting gently on my shoulders as I watch her head fall back behind her, lips parting as her melodic laugh falls from her lips. The very laugh I used to dream about on nights when life felt too hard. When I dared to let myself imagine a future past the rubble of all I’ve lost, it always started with that laugh.

She sits on my knee, legs swinging between mine, “No, baby. I’m trying to get you out of your head.” She bites down on her bottom lip, voice softening as she asks, “Is it working?”

The fact that she just called me baby is almost enough to make me forget all about this stupid party, throw her over my shoulder, and not leave my room for days. But I know how excited she is.

I sigh, letting my head fall onto her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Pretty Girl. I’m sure this isn’t exactly the Christmas Joy you wanted.”

“Lucas,” she says softly, “I don’t expect you to be anything but honest in how you feel.”

Her words settle something in my chest. Unlike the past, they don’t hit something hollow. They land somewhere steadier, somewhere that remembers I can finally breathe on my own again. It’s easier to catch myself before I spiral now. I know the difference between grief and shame, between sadness and the self-loathing that plagued my life for twenty years. But some days, like today, those past thought patterns threaten to pull me under in a familiar way. One that’s comfortable, inviting almost.

“I read the chapter to you last night,” I say, letting my hand rest on top of her knee. “You fell asleep halfway through. How are you supposed to know if she saddled up to the mechanic or not?”

“It’s a Christmas romance,” she snorts. “Of course she did.”

She’s not wrong. We’re reading a novella about a cowgirl stranded in a snowstorm, and the only person still in the deserted little town is the broody older man, also known as the town's mechanic. I mean, who doesn’t love an age gap?

“Come on, Goldie. Let’s be merry.” She climbs off my lap and pulls me toward the door.

Yeah. Yeah, I can be merry.

Except… the second we walk into Tate and Abby’s new house, my chest tightens to the point of pain. It’s not jealousy or loneliness, it’s something like pressing on a lingering bruise. I’ve kept my distance since Thanksgiving. Not because I don’t want to be around my friends, but because I needed to learn to hold myself together without leaning on people who were never meant to stay with me.

And seeing Abby wrapped up in her new husband, not even noticing we walked in… it stings. Not because she’s gone, but because my brain wants me to believe I wasn’t enough for her to even share that they were dating. I put so much weight and expectation on our friendship that when I realized she kept something from me, it felt personal. But, with the help of Dr. Williams, I’m still learning that not everything is an attack on me.

“Hi!” Hannah yells, launching herself at Scarlett and me before the thought can settle too deep.

One arm hooks around each of our necks, “I’m so glad you guys are here,” she says, her voice trembling as she pulls away. “I missed you both. Come on, let’s get you some food.” She grabs both our hands and pulls us into the kitchen.

The tightness in my chest loosens a bit as I remember I’m not an outsider here. I’m loved. Wanted. Included.

“Hey.” Abby slides up next to me, grabbing a handful of grapes before popping one in her mouth. “Welcome to Wilder Wonderland.”

Lettie snorts, intercepting Sammy and his two beers. “Not today, Satan.” She says as she grabs him by the shoulders and turns him away from us.