Page 50 of Crack the Ice

Both of his arms are around my shoulders in an instant, and when I look up, there’s Mav, leaning against the wall with his hands shoved in his pockets, looking at me like I’m his salvation. And damn, does it feel good.

The front door of my house creaks as I push it open. The annoyed huff of breath behind me makes me smile the slightest bit. I quickly walk through the foyer into the open kitchen and living room.

Mav follows like a lost puppy. It’s endearing in a way I don’t have the mental capacity to examine right now. I watch him look around, and wonder what he sees. My house is clean, though it’ll never be as clean as his. This man is as meticulous as they come. I’m pretty sure his labels have labels.

His eyes move across the room, freezing when he gets to the picture of him and me on my bookshelf. I note the sharp intake of air and the sluggish way he moves toward it. His finger moves across the glass, tracing the outline of our faces before turning to me. “You kept this?”

“I have them all.”

He places it back on the shelf and closes the distance between us. His hands land on my cheeks, tipping my head up until I’m looking at him. “Why did you carry this alone, Cess?” A harsh, broken sound tears from his throat, his voice so completely broken that he covers his mouth with the back of his hand, attempting to keep it inside. “I’m fucking wrecked thinking about how heavy these years have been for you. How strong you’ve had to be just to survive. I don’t want you to carry it alone anymore. I know there’s a lot going on, but please, please let me in.”

I need a minute to pull my thoughts together, and I know, more likely than not, he needs one, too. I pull my phone out, setting a timer for a little more than a minute, then reach out and wrap my fingers around his and tug him toward me.

“Stop thinking so hard.”

The heaviness in his eyes gives way to how exhausted he is. Did he look like this earlier, and I was too blind to see it? He doesn’t move, so I move him. I place one of his hands on the small of my back, and keep the other held in mine.

His eyes widen, and he freezes for a second. But it’s enough to make me second-guess myself.

“What are you doing?” His voice scrapes out of his throat, rough as if it’s been weeks, not seconds, since he’s used it.

I send him a soft smile, hoping that it helps us both relax, even if just a little. “Shh. One minute, we can talk after.”

The exhale that leaves him is powerful enough to move my hair, long enough that I wonder how long he’s been holding that one in, and then slowly, he melts into me. The hand on my lower back softens. His fingers begin to move in long, steady strokes in time with the sway of our bodies. A few seconds pass, and I allow myself to breathe him in, afraid that I’ll blink and everything will go back to the way it’s been for years.

My breath catches when one of his hands moves to my hip, the other lifting our joined hands above my head until he spins me in a slow circle. My eyes hold his for almost the entire rotation. Heat and a dangerous amount of hope move across his face. His hand resettles on my hip, pulling me flush against him as I finish the turn. I fit here like I was made to be held by this man. Every hard edge of him fills the soft curves of me in a way no one else ever has.

“Did you mean it?” His cheek rests against the top of my head. Our bodies pressed together as we continue to sway.

“Yes.” I’m not exactly sure what he’s asking about, but there’s nothing I said tonight that I didn’t mean.

The melodic sound of my timer goes off, but neither of us moves. I close my eyes and let myself have this, him, for a few more seconds. Tuning into his warmth, the feel of strong hands on my hips, the gentleness yet power they hold.

I’ve spent so long running from him that I forgot how much effort it takes to try and convince myself he’s not my entire world. It’s exhausting to fight against everything your heart has ever wanted. Now that he’s here, in front of me, holding me like I’m something worth treasuring, I’m not sure I want to keep running.

Finally, he pulls away and silences my phone. He takes a step back, sliding his hands in his pockets, and the move should make me pause and try to figure out why he’s giving me space instead of pressing in like he normally does, but it doesn’t. I’m tired of fighting this, of fighting him.

“I can’t promise this will be an easy road, Mav.” I look down at the floor. “But if me being there for them while you’re gone is an answer to one of your problems, I’ll do it. Gladly. But they have to come first, in every situation.”

“And us?” he asks quietly.

“I don’t know.” I flatten my hands against the island, letting my head hang for a second before I look back at him. “I don’t trust that I won’t let my emotions get up and drive. I want to be with someone who’s going to love me like my dad loves my mom. Out loud and unapologetic. He’s the same way at home. There isn’t a time when my mom ever has to question where she stands with him. She doesn’t have to compete with anything else for his time and attention.”

Wanting those things doesn’t make me a bad person. I know that. But it feels wrong to want that when there are kids whose livelihood hangs in the balance of a friendship between two people. “I deserve that, but what I want is in direct conflict with what’s best for these kids. If we try and it falls apart again, where does that leave them? It feels selfish, but I can’t just turn that off.”

He steps toward me, and I immediately lift my chin. “And what about what’s best for me?”

My hand meets his chest, stopping his forward movement. “I don’t think you know what’s best for you, Maverick. You’re too busy trying to solve everyone else’s problems.”

“What if I want to stop doing that? What if I want to build our family, with you in the middle of it?”

My head hangs heavy in front of me. The weight of that question wraps around my neck, threatening to tighten at the slightest glimpse of hope.

“What’s changed between then and now? How are things going to be different this time? We don’t have time to figure us out. We’ve got kids to take care of.”

“We’ll go on dates. At least once a week.” He grabs my hands, rubbing his thumbs across the backs of them as he continues. “We can get to know each other again, late nights, early mornings, you can teach me how to bake, I’ll teach you how to slap shot. I don’t know, Cecy.”

He bends until he’s eye level with me, his eyes glisten, and the love that shines in them has me closing my own. “What I do know is, you got away once, and I’ve got some sins to make up for. But I want to try. I want us to be friends at least. I’m not saying I’m going to be perfect, because honestly, you’re right.” His eyes screw shut, and when they reopen, I gasp at the pain swirling in them.