Page 66 of Crack the Ice

I push off the desk and put my hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to be one way, Cade. You can be whoever you want to be. You’ve got Mav and me behind you, and if you didn’t, you have half the roster and their wives, too. We can be what Lily needs, but what is it that you need? That’s why Mav can be who he is. He leaned on those who surrounded him.”

“Security. I need security. I need to know that one day I’m not going to wake up and something happens and Lily and I are separated or they take us from you guys.”

“You know he’s trying to adopt you, right? That’s why I’m helping.”

His eyes fall to the floor. “Yeah, but I overheard his conversation with his lawyer the other day. They can’t take us, he said that, but adoption would be easier to approve if there were two parents. Not just two people in the house.”

My head tilts to the side. What is that supposed to mean? I guess Mav and I haven’t talked about what me being part of this would mean for their adoption, or what it would look like in real time.

“I’m not sure how any of this works, Cade. Mav and I haven’t talked much about it, minus me agreeing to stay when he’s not here. But I can promise you that I’ll always be honest with you, and I know there’s very little the two of us wouldn’t do to make sure that at the end of this, you know you have a place here. Regardless of whether you get adopted or not.”

I stand, taking two steps until I can wrap my arms around his shoulders. “You’re sixteen, bud. You’re so close to being an adult, and I hope like hell that you make it to the NHL like Mav did. I hope you change the world, one team at a time, because your heart is pure.”

He looks around the room, gaze never settling on one thing for too long until he takes a deep breath and looks back at me. “Do you think you could teach me to cook, maybe even bake? Both Reed and Lily’s birthdays are coming up. Did you know they have the same birthday?”

I did, September thirtieth. “I do. You want to make them cakes?”

“I think it’d be fun, but I also think they’d appreciate it.”

“They would.” I nod. “But what does it mean to you?”

His hand runs through his hair much like Mav’s does when he’s trying to figure out how to say something. “I’ve never been the best with words. I like to show my feelings in what I do, or how I do them. I want him to know how much I appreciate everything he’s doing for us, but I also want my sister to know I love her, because I don’t tell her nearly enough.”

“That’s sweet, Cade,” I say around the lump in my throat. “I’d be honored to teach you. Maybe we can even try the sour straw cake recipe I’ve been too intimidated to try. It’s Mav’s favorite candy.”

“Reed eats candy?”

A laugh bursts out of me. Of course, the man doesn’t keep candy in the house. Visibly, at least. These poor kids. Luckily, they have me, the rule-bender to the rule enforcer. He’s going to have his hands full. I can’t wait.

“Yes, the red ones specifically. I bet he has a hidden stash around here somewhere.”

Cade’s jaw drops. “Cap’s a human?” he whisper shouts.

Wrapping my arm around his shoulder, I move us both toward the kitchen where Lily is happily singing, her little feet swinging from where they hang from the barstool.

“Yes, more human than you could ever imagine.”

“Cade’s room is cool, isn’t it?” Lily asks when she sees us round the corner.

“It is. Almost as cool as he is,” I say, ruffling his hair.

He doesn’t push me off. Instead, he almost leans into it. The small movement makes me question when the last time his mom joked around with him was. Note to self: physical touch and words of affirmation seem to be his love language.

I pull out the barstool next to Lily while Cade takes the chair on the other side of her, pressing a quick kiss to the top of her head. I melt a little at the gesture. He truly is the best brother.

“What are you up to?” I ask, noting the piece of paper and pile of colored pencils in front of her.

“Reed went to pick up the food, so I’m drawing us a family portrait. He said he’d hang it on the fridge!”

My eyes move across the kitchen to the fridge that’s void of anything. Not a magnet anywhere to be found, just feet of unblemished stainless steel. Then, like a record scratch, the words “family portrait” replay in my head. Family.

She called us a family. My view of the kitchen blurs, nose tingling as the word settles somewhere in the barren place I swore would never see the light of day. This was part of my life that I came to terms with not having. A crater made from blow after blow all those years ago feels slightly less hollow as I watch her color in my black hair.

She didn’t ask if I wanted to be part of it. She drew me there like I belong. Disproportionate arms, clothes that look too square to ever fit a human body, and four people standing next to each other with wide eyes, matching smiles.

She has no idea what she’s done, has no idea that she’s poured a little bit of gold into the cracks in my heart, making it stronger and more beautiful than before. She doesn’t know that I wrote this moment off years ago, telling myself it wasn’t meant to be. I wasn’t meant to be a mom, even though every piece of me rioted at the thought every single time. That is, until I got to a point where I stopped hoping, stopped wanting, stopped thinking it could ever be something obtainable.

A tear hits the island, and I don’t move to wipe it away. I don’t bring attention to it, or to the fact that I’m breaking and healing simultaneously. Now I see that there were other options, and this is a damn good one. The best, honestly. But I don’t trust it to stay.