Page 99 of Crack the Ice

“Aww, cuties!” Lily says, batting her lashes at him.

I look around the disaster of a kitchen. This isn’t going to be fun to clean up, but it sure as hell was fun to make.

“You wanna head home and get cleaned up, too? I might be able to dip out a bit early. The girls can close. It’s something I want to start trying to do, leaving when the baking is done for the day, that is.”

“I like that idea, maybe you can come to one of my games then!”

My head tilts to the side, brows threading together. “Did you ask me to come to a game and I said no?” I can’t remember her ever asking, and I’m going to be seriously upset if she did and I made her feel like the bakery was more important.

“No.” She wipes her hands on a towel before wiping the goop sliding down her forehead. “I just assumed you couldn’t leave.”

I bend so that we’re eye level and take one of her hands in mine. “I’ll always make time for you, Lily. No matter what, if you want me there, I will be there. Okay?”

She nods, the little column of her neck flexing at the force with which she swallows. I wonder if her mom ever got to see her play. I know that is relatively new for her.

“Will you come to my game next Saturday then?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Lil Bit.”

Her arms circle my neck, and I fight back tears when my eyes meet Mav’s misty eyes over her shoulder.

“You’re amazing,” he mouths. And damn it, he makes me feel amazing, worthy. And it’s been a long time since I’ve felt myself worth the fight.

“See you at home?” I ask, pulling away.

“You don’t want me to help you clean up?” Sweet little soul.

I shake my head, putting my hand on her shoulder. “No, sweetheart, it’s okay. I have extra clothes here. I can change when I’m done. I don’t want you to be miserable all day.”

“Okay, I’ll make dinner. We can have that chicken. Cade can help!”

I shoot her a pointed look. “Don’t burn the house down, okay?”

She skips over to Mav, taking his hand in hers. “I would never. Bye, Cecy!”

“Bye.”

“Bye, baby,” Mav rasps.

“See you later, Muscles.”

Clean and go home. Clean and go home. You can do this, Cecy. Focus. I tell myself as I get the mop and the broom. Except, like most well-laid plans, when you have AuDHD, nothing ever goes to plan—now does it?

“Sheila, what are you doing here?” I ask as I push the broom across the floor. “And why are you in my kitchen?”

Her arms cross over her chest, the corners of her mouth pulling down as she looks around the room. “I’m just trying to figure out why the child you’re supposedly responsible for just left covered in food?”

I freeze, the broom dangling in the air for a second before I place it back on the ground, leaning on the handle as I turn toward her. “I’d like to know how you knew she was here? Or maybe how you just so happened to be in the area at the exact time she left?”

“Are you deflecting? I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that covering the children in your care with food could be considered bullying and abuse.”

Damn it, why did they leave? Why didn’t I tell them to stay and help? Wait, no. No. She doesn’t get to pull this.

I straighten my shoulders and turn to fully face her. “I’m not sure what your angle is here, but⁠—”

“Hey Cecy.”

Thank God.