Page 39 of Crack the Ice

Not that it changed anything, but having a name for it took the bite out of the mystery. While I’ve known for a long time that I had ADHD, it was the level one autism diagnosis—and the subsequent AuDHD label—that unraveled me for a while.

Slowly though, I pieced together the why behind things, and I started to feel a little less out of control. I wasn’t gaslighting myself into believing that I was too much, too emotional, too sensitive, and unreasonable. The freakouts and the subsequent burnout weren’t “without reason.” Before the diagnosis, I felt a bit crazy—like a train going off the rails with no hope of correcting itself.

“Big ones, small ones,” I continue.

“Some as big as your head!” Lily yells, pushing through the door and coming straight toward us.

My laugh shakes both of us as she wraps her arms around my waist and says good morning before doing the same to Kait.

Lily gets to hang out at the bookstore today while Mav coaches Cade’s hockey team, something about her doing a summer reading project for extra credit when school starts again.

“Good Morning,” a rich, dreamy voice says, causing my head to snap in its direction. “Maria gave me three coffees, and I couldn’t figure out why, but this makes sense now.”

It’s been two weeks since the kids have been out of school, and the guys were knocked out in the conference finals. While it sucks they didn’t get to take the cup home again, I’m not going to pretend it’s not nice seeing all of them a little more often.

Mav moves toward me, my eyes trailing from his feet up to his face. He’s got those sweats on that swish when you walk with a compression shirt that clings to his muscles like a Koala. His nose ring is in, and to round out my every fantasy of the man in front of me, he has his Hawks hat on backward.

What a dick.

His lips pull into a smirk when I don’t respond to whatever it was he said. His cologne hits me in the face, wrapping around me like a warm hug. Spicy and warm, so him, and I’m not even going to pretend I don’t shift in his direction to get another hit of it.

“Here.” He puts the drink carrier down on the counter and pulls out an iced coffee. “I’m assuming this is yours, considering there are two of them.”

I take the cup, grateful that he saved me from going across the street to get it myself. “Thanks,” I whisper, pulling the paper off the top of the straw and taking a sip. Gah, it’s like jumper cables to the brain every time I drink it.

“Are you not opening the bakery today?” He leans a hip against the counter and crosses one ankle over the other.

I shake my head while taking another sip. “I am. Your sister is interviewing a couple of people this morning. You know how I am. I’d hire everyone because everyone deserves a shot.”

Understanding dawns on him, and a look of pride takes over his face.

Mierda⁠*, that feels good to be on the receiving end of.

“Yeah. I’m glad you’re at the point you need to hire already, though. That’s awesome.”

I roll my lips between my teeth and look down at the floor. “Yeah, thanks. There’s a lot more I’d like to do, and I can’t do it if I’m baking and manning the front.”

“Like what?” he asks, taking a sip of his own coffee.

This time my smile grows without my permission. “I want to start baking classes, some for kids, some for adults. But I’d also like to do something with Hannah and The Foundation and the local food banks.”

“What, my epic failure wasn’t enough to scar you for life, and now you have to arm kids with the knowledge of how not to make sand cake?”

I snort out a laugh, head shaking softly as my eyes meet his. “No, it’s what brought me here in the first place. But I’d like to show them what’s possible if it’s something they’re interested in. I have you to thank for opening a door to the future neither of us knew about.”

He hums low in his throat as he brings his coffee to his lips. It’s in a paper cup, so my bet is he’s literally drinking bean water with nothing in it. “You’re done with your season,” I say, my insides clenching. I definitely could have said that differently. “Why aren’t you drinking fun coffee?”

He looks at his cup like he just realized it was black coffee. “I don’t know. I didn’t even think about it. But I’m coaching today.” He motions to himself. “It probably wouldn’t be a great idea to drink all that sugar and dairy. It might end up on the ice.”

“He’s going to teach Cade how to do wrist shots!” Lily bounds toward the two of us. “I want to learn that, too.”

Mav looks down at her with so much love in his eyes that it almost hurts. He reaches out and ruffles her hair. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you. Maybe you can convince one of your besties here to bring you to an open skate or two.”

Lily turns and looks at me right as Kait slides behind the counter. “Oh coffee!” she sings. “Thanks, Reed.”

“Is there a schedule? Maybe I can take you in the afternoon when I’m not needed at the bakery.” I’m looking at Lily, but the question is directed toward Maverick.

“Yeah, I’ll send it to you.”