Page 30 of Crack the Ice

“I begged Mav to bring us here before taking us to school. It’s our last day before summer break. I wanted to bring cupcakes for my class. I knew he’d say yes. He’s a sucker.”

Cecilia’s eyes slowly move to mine. The amber hue I love so much seems to brighten slightly, and the notion sends heat climbing up my neck. Is she… happy I’m here?

That was nice of him,” she says, eyes still holding mine.

A soft smile plays on her face when she looks back at Lily. “You can have whatever you want, just let me know, and I’ll pack it up for you.”

My sister picks that moment to come out of her office. “No need, I got it.” She holds out her hand to Lily before looking at Cade, who’s annoyed we made a detour in the first place. “Come on, little nugget, and big nugget. Let’s see what kind of trouble we can get into back here.”

Lily goes willingly, while Cade drags his feet a bit, but I know he’ll perk up when he gets to the back. The kids got a sweet tooth a mile wide.

“Hey, Reed.” A voice I haven’t heard in a long time calls.

My head turns toward the table Cecilia’s sitting at, and that’s when I notice Dylan there, too. The nervous tick makes a hell of a lot more sense now.

“Dill pickle,” I drawl, pulling out the chair next to Cecilia and placing my hand on top of her knee the second I sit down. My heart picks up speed when instead of pulling away, she angles herself toward me. “What are you cooking up today?”

Dylan scoffs, wiggling her Apple Pencil between her fingers. “I was asking Cecilia when she first knew she wanted to bake.”

I turn my attention fully to Cecilia, whose cheeks are stained the lightest shade of pink, but I nod. So does she.

I watch her chest rise as she takes a deep breath before turning toward Dylan and placing her hand on top of mine under the table. Her tongue drags across her lips, and I can see them tremble from here.

My hand tightens around her knee, fighting the urge to pull her away, but before I get the chance, she flips my world on its head.

“I had a friend, the only friend who ever saw me for me. Not my mom’s daughter or my brother’s little sister. Just me.” She clears her throat, eyes dropping to the table for a beat before bringing them back to Dylan.

“Right before my thirteenth birthday, I told him I didn’t think I’d get to have a party. My parents and brother were still drowning in grief from a crash that took their best friends. My brother was causing more trouble than any person should be capable of at fifteen. I wasn’t invisible to them, they still loved me. But it felt selfish to ask for anything knowing all they were dealing with, you know?”

Her eyes well with tears, and fuck. Mine might do the same if this goes the way I think it’s going.

“Anyway, my friend went to the store, bought everything he needed to make me a cake, and he did. It wasn’t the best. In fact, it tasted like sand.”

She lets out a watery laugh, and it rips my heart in half.

“But he did it for me. He went out of his way to try to make me smile, and he did. It came from a place of love, of caring enough to meet someone where they’re at, and doing what you can to leave them in a better place than you found them.”

A tear rolls down her cheek, and I bite down on my tongue to keep from reaching up and swiping it away. This woman is killing me. I had no idea I played any part in her love for baking. She’s brilliant. Everything she puts out is absolutely amazing. Her heart can be seen, tasted, and felt in every bite you take. I don’t even know how to process that.

“Sadly, we grew apart as time went on. But this was a way to hold on to one of the friendships that meant the most to me. Now, I have so much love for the process, for the way my mind empties when I’m making something, that it’s part of me. I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.”

My body goes rigid, and I’m hanging on every word she says. Desperate for any clue as to how to fix this. Wait, no. She’s not something that needs to be fixed.

My thumb moves absentmindedly over her thigh as I let the importance of what she said bury itself in my chest. How do I get her to let me tell her how much she means to me without her running for the hills?

“That’s beautiful. Do you guys still talk? Does he know the hand he played in this?”

Cecilia shakes her head, her bottom lip disappearing between her teeth. “Not the way we used to, I-” She pauses, squeezing my hand. “I hope that one day maybe we can find our way back to some sort of even footing, even if we never make it back to how we once were. I miss him.”

She misses me. She said she misses me. I can fix this. I have to fix this, because I miss the hell out of her, too.

Dylan continues with her questions, my hand still steady on Cecilia’s knee, but my mind is back in the kitchen of my mom’s old house where this all started.

“Kelsey, it says two eggs and room temperature butter. This isn’t room temperature. You just took it out of the fridge.”

My sister’s eyes roll. She’s home from college this weekend and, for some reason, has decided to micromanage my attempt at making cake. “Mavy, it doesn’t matter if it’s cold or room temperature, just make it.”

It does matter, though. It matters because it’s for Cecy. It matters because I saw how sad she was when she thought no one was looking. It matters because she matters. I blow a piece of hair out of my face and try my hardest to do this with minimal mess. Not that it’s working, considering I opened the bag of mix and half of it is now on my shirt.