Page 10 of Crack the Ice

“I can’t wait!” she squeals, pulling away and clapping her hands rapidly in front of her. “It’s going to be such a good day. Did you see all the local news outlets this week? They’ve all picked up the social media video I put together a few weeks ago. I swear, give it an hour and you’re going to have a line forming outside.” She takes off for her office, letting the door slam behind her, almost as if she forgot Maverick was even here.

“Good morning,” he says, stepping closer. The deep bravado of his voice commands every ounce of my attention as his arm extends, holding out one of the coffees. “Figured you could use a good luck café con leche.”

I bite down on my bottom lip, eyes falling to the liquid gold. “You remembered my favorite coffee?” I ask, taking it from him without hesitation.

My fingers accidentally brush against his, and damn it, it’s like lightning struck, making my blood buzz in anticipation of the next one. I cannot be around this man.

“I remember everything about you.” He reaches up, probably to tuck the piece of hair that’s escaped my beehive of a bun behind my ear, but I step back at the same time he lets his hand fall.

I shake my head, eyes falling back to the floor. “I’m begging you to forget it. All of it.”

“Why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why would I want to forget anything about you?”

I swirl my cup, reveling in the sound of ice hitting the sides, while also buying me some time to come up with a good answer to his question.

I secretly love that he remembers. I want him to remember because I’m stuck remembering everything there is to know about him, too.

“Don’t you think enough time has passed?” I set the cup down on the counter, rapidly tapping my fingers against the cool surface. “Shouldn’t we be moving on?”

“Move on?” he growls, stepping into my space until I have to tip my head back to maintain eye contact. “You’ve moved on?”

“What if I have?” I cross my arms over my chest, hoping like hell he buys this. It’s better this way, for both of us.

He takes off his hat, raking a hand through his hair, and letting out a resigned sigh. “Have you?”

“It doesn’t matter, Mav. We’re better off this way.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

I swallow roughly. This is a multifaceted problem—partly his, partly mine. But I can’t give him my truth. I can’t give anyone my truth.

“Do you remember when you got drafted, and your mom and sisters were so happy? I was too, don’t get me wrong, but then I went and hid?” A lump forms in my throat, and I swear his hand twitches.

His hand wraps around the back of his neck, squeezing slightly as he lets out a huff of breath through his nose. “In the tree in the backyard. It took me hours to find you.”

My eyes fall to the floor. “Do you remember what I told you?”

“Not the specifics.” He steps in closer. The heat radiating from his body makes me shiver.

“I was scared I’d get left behind, forgotten. Become invisible to another person who meant so much to me. You helped me survive that season with my family. You saw me when they were too broken to do so. You swore that would never be the case with us, that I’d always be important to you. But that isn’t what happened, was it?”

His brows thread together, a hand coming up to scratch at his beard as the cracks that I’ve done my best to piece back together split open once again. He looks at me like he doesn’t see it, or maybe he doesn’t want to.

I let my eyes fall closed, shaking my head in disbelief. Maybe I am the problem. Maybe I expect too much because I’ve seen the way my dad loves my mom my entire life. Hell, my brother loves his wife the same way.

“Where were you when I needed you, Mav?” I whisper before turning and walking back into the kitchen.

I’ve only gotten one full breath in before Lana bursts into the room with a stack of papers in her hands, waving them wildly through the air as she lets out a squeal. “You already have five online orders, and we’re not even open yet.”

Sometimes I think she’s more excited about this place than I am, and to be fair, she was made to run a business. Her mind and life are chaotic, but when she’s looking at numbers or doing marketing, she’s locked in. A lot like I am in the kitchen.

The thought alone is dizzying. “How many of them are from the peanut gallery?” I hike my thumb in the direction of the door, not convinced they’re not all from our brothers and their teammates.

“None. They said they’re coming in later. Well, that’s what Lettie said, at least.”