Page 77 of Born of Ice

After Emett and I we were done with our usual practice, he dropped to the fluffy snow and proclaimed I killed him on the ice and that he would have to turn into a snow angel now.

I swear, I’ve never met a more dramatic kid in my life, but I laughed, dropped next to him, and made snow angels. Aurora walked over to us, wheeling Electra along and asked, “What are you two doing?”

“Making snow angels,” Emett proclaimed, then added, “Mom, make one too! And Electra! We need a whole family of angels over here.” Emett then scrunched his forehead, looking around the snow-covered area. “Where is Mr. Brick when we need him?” he grumbled, and we all laughed but Aurora dropped to the ground next to her son and started moving her arms and legs.

Right away, I shot a look at Electra who was watching us with quiet envy. And the look in her eyes that said she wanted to do this too was enough for me to jump up, pull her out of her chair and lay her next to me.

All while she was screaming, “What are you doing? I’m not going to make any angels. Put me back in my chair.” And more words along the lines but there she was, still on the snow and now glaring at me.

“And how am I supposed to make one, Axe?”

“Geez, I don’t know,” I say with sarcasm. “Maybe like this?” I lean over her, moving her arms up and down. “Wow, look at that, it takes a real talent to do that,” I added with a saucy eye roll, and she cracked a small smile despite herself.

“And my legs?” Electra raised one eyebrow at me.

“Nah, you can be a solemn angel. You know the pissy uncle kind every family has and has to endure for the holidays.” Her mouth drops open in mock outrage.

“Oh, so I’m the pissy uncle now?”

“Yep,” I pop the p, but before I could go back to making my own again, a big ball of snow hit my face and Emett broke out in laugher, hollering, “Snow fight, snow fight! Auntie Electra, can I be on your team?”

Next thing I know, Electra is sitting up, and I’m covered in snow from head to toe as those two laugh their asses off at my expense.

And I loved every fucking minute of it, despite telling them their death is coming soon and shooting a few half-hearted ones back at them.

Emett also demanded we needed to decorate Electra’s chair. When we asked why he said that’s what you do when you break something and have to wear a cast.

The kid has no idea what the impact of his works was on all of us, but the next thing I know, Aurora brings over her Bedazzler, Sharpies, and ribbons and we turned Electra’s cage into a princess throne.

Electra sat through it with happy tears in her eyes.

I think that day I had more fun than in my whole life. Simply seeing her so happy filled me with giddiness that I wanted to recreate every chance I got. The snow angels were long gone since then, covered by a fresh layer of snow, but Electra still stares out toward them every time she’s in front of the living room window wearing a soft smile on her face. As soon as I spot it, she’s back in my arms until we are on that snow again, making fresh angels.

She lost her glare after that first time with Emett and Aurora, instead taking to calling me a lunatic for dragging her out without a coat, but she does it with a laugh and light in her eyes. And afterward, we warm up with blankets and hot drinks, watching the next Marvel movie on our list. Although, I’d prefer to warm up in a whole other way…

It’s safe to say, Electra is a die-hard fan now, and yes, I’ll take all the credit for that. Even though it pisses me off to no end when she sprinkles comments throughout the movie about how hot this or that guy is. Logically, I know she is playing with me, but screw logic when it comes to her. I don’t want her even entertaining those thoughts about other men, just me.

Which is irrational all on its own since there is no relationship here, and I haven’t dared to kiss her again since that day in the gym. And her lips have certainly not touched me after that night in her bed when she kissed my forearm with more meaning that any other make-out session in my life before her.

And that’s why I had to burn it into my skin, glancing, touching it, any chance I get.

Because that’s how desperate big, cocky Exton has become.

That’s not to say we haven’t become increasingly more comfortable or touchy with each other. But whenever it stirs toward more, I allow her to flip the situation into a joke.

How very chickenshit of me I know, and trust me, I don’t get it either. I’ve never been one to shy away from taking what I want,and I’ve never wanted anyone more than I want Electra freaking Monroe but maybe that’s exactly what the problem here is.

I want her and not just for one or two nights because I no longer see my days without her.

I can’t see myself not cooking and then feeding her breakfast. I don’t see how I could possibly workout in the gym without her angry elf attitude or be stupid on the ice all by myself. I don’t see my days without going to Blade’s for lunch and chatting with half the town as if we were old buddies, or having Electra place her hand on my thigh whenever she feels me getting worked up about one topic or the other. Which more often than not is the topic about Outlaws. Or whenever my phone rings again.

She just senses it, senses that I need her calm. Maybe without realizing it herself.

I can’t imagine not coaching Emett or even having that shithead, Sava over for a dinner here and there. There is no easy explanation for the peace I feel with her, but I do and I don’t want to lose it. And I certainly can’t imagine not holding her in my arms as I carry her from room to room, because that’s where she belongs.

She’ll walk, I’m sure of it, but she will still belong in my arms like my own precious snowflake. Fragile yet a fierce one that can serve you that frost bite before you know it. So simple from afar, but when you look closely, breathtakingly beautiful with intricate design. And most importantly, cold and untouchable until she lands on my palm and melts into me.

Look at me being all poetic and shit when it comes to her. See what she’s doing to me? See how she’s twisting me into her own pretzel?

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