Page 49 of Ice Me Baby

I chuckle, shaking my head. The others walk out of the kitchen, and I assume they’re heading for the couches in the living room. Mac and Dean stay behind, silently leaning on the counter on either side of me.

I arch a brow as I fry more chicken. “Yes?”

“Do you need help?” Mac asks.

I shake my head as I begin to bop to the new song playing. “I’m good. You guys relax. This is my thank you for helping me.”

Mac chuckles. “You wouldn’t have been able to move all your stuff by yourself. Plus, do you think we would make our favorite athletic therapist move everything by herself?”

“I suppose you’re right.” It’s quiet for a moment, and it’s becoming awkward as they stand there and watch me cook. When I look up, Mac is looking at Dean with a concerned expression.

Switching my gaze to Dean, I see him staring down at his hands while he rolls a beaded bracelet with his thumb. Mac and I exchange a quick glance, his eyes pleading for me to do something.

With a deep sigh, I bump Dean with my shoulder. “I like your bracelet.”

He hums but continues to fiddle with it. I turn to Mac, whose eyes are flicking his eyes between me and Dean. What does he expect me to do? He leans forward and whispers in my ear, “He got a call from his dad today. He’s been down all day. Help him, please.”

As he pulls away, I arch a brow and ask with my eyes,how am I supposed to do that?

He smiles softly as he whispers, “You helped last night.”

Huffing a sigh, I hand him the tongs. “Don’t ruin my chicken.”

“Yes, ma'am,” he says with a mock salute.

I take a deep breath and turn my focus on Dean. I brush my fingers over the bracelet as I say, “It’s really pretty.” The bracelet holds all his focus right now. Maybe if I can get him to talk about it, he will open up about what's on his mind.

He answers, but he sounds far away. “Mère gave it to me.”

If I remember correctly, that means mother in French. I’m not sure what his relationship with his parents is like, but considering his attitude right now, I’d guess he’s not close to his dad. Is he close to his mom, though?

“So, your mom gave that to you?”

He shakes his head and finally looks up at me. “No, my mère. She was Mac’s mom.”

I hadn’t realized Mac and Dean were so close that he would call Mac’s mom an endearment like that. Trying to keep the conversation light, I comment, “That was nice of her.”

He nods as he looks back down at the bracelet. “She would know what to do. She always knew how to handle my parents.” He lets out a bitter laugh as he continues, “A quality I was envious of. Still am.”

When I turn to look at Mac, I see him staring down at a matching bracelet on his wrist. He must feel my eyes because he sends me a sad smile. He mouths the words,she died.

Well. This conversation just turned heavy. I bite my lip, not entirely sure how to go about helping. Should I give him a hug or talk him through his thoughts? I inwardly sigh but ask, “What would she do first in this situation?”

He shrugs as if it’s no big deal before saying, “I guess she would give me a hug and say,je suis fier.”

“That’s pretty. What does it mean?” I ask softly.

“It means,I am proud,” he whispers.

He’s still fiddling with the bracelet, so I cover his hand with my own and ask, “What did your dad say?”

His shoulders drop. “Same thing he always does. That I need to be better. Don’t sully the Lewis name. Make sure I do better than my best in the first game of the season.”

My heart aches at the words spilling out of his mouth.Do better than his best?I’ve never seen him do less than his best. He’s his own worst critic and often pushes himself too hard. I have a feeling those are words his father says often and have been drilled into his head, over and over, for years. I can see why he turned to Mac’s mother when it came to comfort.

I push into the space between his arms and wrap my own around his torso. I didn’t realize how small I was until thismoment, but if a hug is what he needs, then a hug is what he’ll get. His body stiffens for a moment before he seemingly melts in my arms. He wraps his own around me and pulls me in closer.

“I’m proud of you,” I mumble into his chest.

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