Page 91 of Bound

“Practice makes perfect.”

“I’ll practice making perfect with the hot cocoa dispenser.”

Smitty crosses his arms.

I cross them right back—or one of them, anyway. Because I’m clinging to Jackson with the other.

“What do we say?” he asks softly.

And…I melt.

And…Isigh.

Because I can’t resist that soft voice, the gentle hold.

It coaxes me into another try, and surprises of all surprises, I manage to make it a full lap.

And then another, this time without the side of taking out hockey players.

And then one final one, just holding Jackson’s hand as we skate side by side.

“Right,” he says as his phone beeps, signaling a low blood sugar.

“Right what?” I ask, already carefully turning us for the exit.

“Nowit’s time for that hot chocolate.”

I grin, but then I see him nod to toward his parents, to his mom who’s holding her phone up, showing us his number, to his dad who’s showing us the steaming pair of hot chocolates.

Always paying attention.

Always watching out for the small details—just like their son.

And I know that I’m lucky my family now includes Kelly and Glen too.

Just like I know as Gran settles next to me, bundled up in a thick puffer coat and a fuzzy hat, that while my family may not always remain the same, it’s always growing and changing.

Becoming more.

Becoming somehow even more special.

Because it’s mine.

Aiden

I wake up to a heavy knock on my condo’s front door and glare blearily at my phone in the charger.

“Two in the fucking morning,” I mutter, grabbing a pillow and clamping it over my ears. “It’s two o’clock in the morning on my fucking birthday, and I have to deal with this shit.”

This shit being my neighbors.

It’s not the first time they’ve pounded drunk on my door, desperate for their roommate to let them in to what they think is their apartment.

This was sort of funny the first time.

I remember those days, drinking too much, being dumb.

But after the second and the third—where I gained status into the inner circle and a code to the keypad to their apartment door—it was no longer cute.

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