Page 69 of Born of Ice

She was drooling over a fictional character last night and I just about put my fist through that screen.

Normal? I don’t think so. My new reality? Seems like it.

Was I aware of falling asleep on top of Electra?

Maybe.

Will I admit to it?

Do I look like a masochist to you?

I waited until she was deeply asleep before twisting us, so she’d be the one top of me. Electra might not believe in her ability to walk again, but I simply know it’ll happen. Soon. She’s too stubborn to let the injury hold her much longer, I just need to keep pushing, keep working, keep dragging her will out of her.

I might’ve fallen for Electra the way she is, bound to that wheelchair and her spirit broken, but I think I love her too much to let her stay in it.

Fuck… I didn't think love was possible. I didn't think it was real and not bullshit, they used to sell romance movies. And I damn sure didn't expect to find it in this five-foot-three angry elf. But I'm not sure what else to call this all-consuming feeling.

20

Fine, I guess I’ll keep you

Electra

There’s a knock onour front door and I start toward it but hear Exton beats me to it. “Well, hello there,” he greets whomever it is.

“H-hey,” my friend’s voice stutters as I round the corner and she shoots her eyes from Exton’s intimidating and half naked form to me, the relief visible on her face but it’s short lived.

“Hey,” I call out, smiling when I see her.

Aurora was someone I considered my best—and only—friend back in the day. We went to the same school as everyone else in this small town did, but it wasn’t until I joined Stella’s center that we really bonded. She was already a proficient skater at that time and had great potential. So, it really surprised me to see her working everywhere but in figure skating, but then again, a lot has changed since I left Iris Lake without looking back.

My heart soared when she embraced me that night at Blade’s. I didn’t deserve her warm welcome, not after the way I left, yet this was the Rory I remember. Kind, loving, compassionate and forgiving.

But then I got to see the new her. The guarded one, protective and too beat up with life.

I wish I was there for her to lean on. I wish I didn’t leave that day when she wanted to talk to me. I’m ashamed to say I forgot about it until she showed me the picture of her son on her phone and the memory slammed into me like a brick of ice.

I was supposed to meet her at the park in the morning. She called me late at night, asking to talk to me, that it was urgent, and I remember thinking “what could possibly be so important?”

But looking at a small bundle of excitement jumping up and down next to her, tugging on her coat and quietly asking, “Mommy, can I? Please, please, Mommy, can I?” I can assume what that conversation was about and the bottom of my stomach sinks.

I left her. I left her when she needed me the most. When we were the only people besides Stella that each of us had. But I left because a week prior to that—Filip Masso showed up, shined a future golden medal in front of my eyes and blinded me with it. And then with Erik. So, when that same morning he told me we were leaving now, I didn’t question it. I packed and without a single goodbye left Iris Lake in the dust.

I left everyone and everything. I ruined everything. I did so much damage out of pure selfishness.

“Electra.” Exton’s stern voice breaks through my haze as his hand clamps around my shoulder. “Breathe,” he says, and I suck in a deep breath, as if I needed his command to do that, to pull out of the panic attack that was quickly coming over me.

I take a deep breath, concentrating on Exton’s voice and presence, on his scent, and feel. I must look like a lunatic to Aurora and her son. Oh, God, the little boy doesn’t need to see any of this.

That thought alone sobers me up and I open my eyes, tentative smile gracing my lips that fools only one person here. “This mustbe Emett?” I ask, swallowing the huge ball in my throat and the little boy jumps up, looking at me with huge, green eyes.

“That’s me! That’s me! I’m Emett,” he says, proudly pointing to his chest and something warms in mine.

He’s full of light and hope and it’s infectious because the crippling chill I felt a second ago, dissipates at the sight of him.

“And you’re Electra Monroe, my mommy’s best friend, and the best figure skater in the whole wide world,” the boy proclaims excitedly, unaware of the tiny blow he dealt to the ice around my heart. I look up to Rory, but she’s looking anywhere but me, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

She still thinks that? After everything? After all the times I’ve let her down, she still thinks that?

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