Page 43 of Knot Sharing the Ice

I chew my lip, considering. "I need to think about all of this. Process it. But... maybe we could take things slow? Get to knoweach other outside of, well, this?" I gesture vaguely at the nest around us.

They nod eagerly, relief evident on their faces. "We can do slow," Adder says. "Whatever pace you're comfortable with, Ember."

Before I can respond, a loud banging echoes through the building. We all freeze, startled by the sudden intrusion of the outside world into our little bubble.

"Hello?" a muffled voice calls. "Anyone in there? We're here to dig you out!"

Reality comes crashing back.

The storm, the power outage, being trapped...

God, how long have we been in here?

"That'll be Frank," Carter says, already moving to stand. "And probably half the town, knowing how gossip spreads around here."

A wave of panic washes over me. "Shit," I mutter, scrambling to sit up. "We need to clean up. I can't let the whole town know what we've been doing in here."

Jayce grins, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I don't mind if they know."

I fling a pillow at his head, which he dodges easily, laughing. "Not helping, Jayce!"

But they all pitch in, helping to dismantle the nest and make the breakroom look somewhat presentable. As we work, stealing glances and trading shy smiles, I can't help but marvel at how natural this feels. How right.

I'm not ready to commit to forever.

Not yet.

But I might be ready to see where this could go.

The banging on the door grows louder, more insistent.

"Coming!" Carter calls out, shooting us all a reassuring look before heading to let in our rescuers.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the onslaught of questions and concerned looks I know are waiting on the other side of that door. But as I feel the warmth of four bodies surrounding me, offering silent support, I realize I'm not facing it alone.

And that?

That feels pretty damn good.

Chapter

Fifteen

EMBER

Ibite back a curse as the gingerbread man's arm snaps off in my hand. This is the third cookie I've ruined in the last hour, and Mom's giving me that look again.

The one that says she knows something's up but is too polite to ask outright.

"Everything okay, sweetie?" she asks, her voice dripping with faux casualness. "You seem a little... distracted."

I force a smile, reaching for the icing to reattach the unfortunate cookie's limb. "I'm fine, Mom. Just a little tired, I guess."

That'sthe understatement of the century.

I'm exhausted, but not from lack of sleep.

No, I'm worn out from the constant mental gymnastics required to keep my composure every time I catch a whiff of mint or chocolate or wood smoke or caramel.

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