Page 106 of Crack the Ice

“My name is Cecilia Samuels. I own the Penalty Box Bakery,” I say, shutting the door behind me. “I’m also the daughter of Selina Samuels, which would make me Markus Samuels’ little sister.” The kid’s eyes widen as I take yet another step in his direction. Good, this is one time I’ll use my position with my brother to my advantage.

“It’s the second week of school, for crying out loud. What could have transpired in two weeks that causes you to attempt to hide or corner someone to intimidate them?”

I finally look at the poor kid behind Cade. He’s shaking. His glasses are slightly askew, shoulders hunched as he clutches his book to his chest. “Ah,” I say, turning back to G.I. Jock. “The classic athlete bullies the nerd into doing their homework. Is that it?”

When no one says anything, I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth. “I hate to break it to you, bucko. But there’s more to life than high school athletics and the girls you think that’ll get you. If your brain doesn’t work, the second you graduate, it’ll all be downhill for you.”

I peek around Cade, putting my hand on the other kid’s arm. “Do you have a way to get home?” He jumps at the contact, but rapidly nods. “Good, go on.” He doesn’t need to be told twice before he takes off.

“Can you wait in the car, Cade? Please.”

Hesitant eyes trace over my face, but I give him a soft nod. I’ve dealt with my fair share of bullies over the years. The second the car door closes, though the window is open and I know he can hear every word I’m about to say, I focus on the boy in front of me.

“Look, I don’t know you. You may be a great person, and I truly hope that’s the case. But there’s no shame in asking for help if you need it. I know that’s not the cool thing to do in high school, but let me tell you, as an adult woman… There’s nothing more attractive to us than when a man knows he has a shortcoming somewhere and they actively work to fix it.”

He doesn’t say anything, but his forehead creases a bit. “You know my brother, correct?”

He nods.

“My brother has spent the last two years in therapy doing something they call EMDR therapy. He’s working to rewrite the trauma he went through at your age. And while that started because he was getting a little out of control, he continues to go because his wife goes with him and they work on themselves together and separately. They ask for help when they need it. Markus asks for help on and off the ice.”

Silence hangs in the air. I don’t know if this kid understands anything I’m saying or not. “I’m not telling you that you need therapy.” Though that might not be a bad idea if he feels bullying is okay. “But if you want to be a leader on and off the field, or wherever sport it is that you play, maybe lead by example. You only get better if you’re working to better yourself. If not, I fear you’ve already peaked.”

My phone chimes from inside the car, snapping me out of it. “Have a good night.”

I pull the door open and slide in, putting my seatbelt on, rolling up the window, and pulling away from the curb before saying anything. “I’m proud of you for standing up for that kid, Cade. But I cannot have you getting in fights, not this soon after school starts and not while Mav is gone. I’m hanging on by a single freaking thread here, and I’m trying my hardest not to blow up on you because it’s not your fault, but holy shit, I need to cry and hit something at the same time.”

When we get to the stoplight, I look over at him to find his eyes glassy. Shit. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell.”

“I’m not mad at you, Cecy. You sounded so much like my mom that it caught me off guard for a second.”

“What?” I gasp.

His head falls, eyes dropping to his hands that are gripping the backpack in his lap. “When my dad died, I started to stand up for people because that’s what he did. He never left the little guys to fight alone. She’d be so proud of me, but so pissed I’d gotten in a fight. Middle school was the worst. I came home with a black eye, and I’d never seen her so pissed.”

He lets out a self-deprecating chuckle. “She’d be so mad I’d insert myself into other people’s business. She’d tell me it wasn’t my job to be everyone else’s savior. The irony isn’t lost on me that Mav does that a lot, too.”

My fingers strangle the steering wheel as the similarities form in my mind. He does, and they both do it because of their dads. My eyes flutter closed as we continue to wait at the light. There couldn’t have been a more match-made-in-heaven situation than the one Caroline made sure they were in.

“Are you okay, though? What’s going on? Why are you so frazzled?”

The frustration slowly bleeds from me. I know my problems aren’t problems by the world’s standards, and that makes me feel so much guiltier when I’m in the middle of a meltdown, but I can’t stop it.

It’s like I’m a train wreck, and I know there’s a wall, or a missing piece of track, yet I run full steam ahead until ultimately I crash. Unfortunately, the people around me usually get hit with the shrapnel.

“Remember how I told you I don’t do well with surprises or last-minute changes?”

He nods.

“Let’s just say today has been full of both. And with Mav gone, it feels like I’m caught in a rip current. The hits keep coming, and I have no way out. I know it’s silly. They’re not big, insurmountable problems, and I know tomorrow I’ll be able to deal with it, but right now I can’t find a way out.”

My blinker fills the car with its signature clicking. The sound honestly makes me want to cry. The repetitive nature makes my blood boil, and it’s so freaking stupid.

I know I could just not use the blinker, but lead by example, right? If this kid is going to learn to drive pretty soon, I want him to use it. I want him to be safe, because, help me, Lord, if something happens to them, I don’t know what I’d do.

“Cecy,” his soft voice filters through my ringing ears. “You don’t have to be perfect all the time. It’s okay to break down when you need to. We can order pizza and have a movie night if you want. Just the three of us.”

He doesn’t want me to cook dinner, clean it all up, then make dessert and keep them entertained all night? No one does that, Cecilia. My brain picks that moment to remind me that my desire to go above and beyond is seeded in my own insecurity.