Page 111 of Frozen Flames

“Ahh, life is great. The ladies love me, I’m a genius, I live with my brother,” Henrik says, tossing his keys on the kitchen counter when he comes in later that evening.

I snicker. “I highly doubt two of those three things are true.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t love having me around,” he teases as he reaches for some chips in the kitchen before sitting down on the opposite end of the couch.

“Of course!” I answer sarcastically. The truth is, I do love having him here. It’s been nice. Sure, he has his own stuff to do, but when we do hang out, it means a lot to me.

I’ve felt a mixture of intense happiness all day and, after Claire left, some guilt for being so happy post-Gemma.

“What? You get laid or something?”

I roll my eyes. As if I’d ever admit to it. What Claire and I share is worth keeping to ourselves.

“Falling for the hottie even more?” Henrik presses on.

“Hen, for God’s sake, she has a name—use it.”

“Yeah, yeah, Claire.” His eyebrow shoots up in defiance.

“I am.” I look away, trying to contain the joy I feel.

“You seem happy.” This baffles him, and I understand why—the breakup. “She makes you really happy, doesn’t she?”

I nod, looking at him, knowing he needs to hear it from me. I know he’s Gemma’s friend as well, so I understand that for the longest time he saw Claire as a threat to our little trio.

But Gemma threatened that dynamic as well.

It won’t be the same with Claire, yet it can be just as amazing.

I’m sure that with time, they’ll get along.

“Alright.” He nods. “Claire it is.”

And that’s that.

Harvey

For two days straight, Claire and I can barely keep our hands off each other.

I still have trouble sleeping—I’m half in turmoil from my breakup and half in this euphoric state of mind, while still worrying that my time with Claire is limited and that it’s all a dream that will fade away.

It’s now Saturday, and my worries are haunting me once more. Henrik isn’t home tonight, and I end up drinking many beers by myself, on an empty stomach, and I’m feeling pretty drunk.

It doesn’t help the loneliness—instead, it amplifies it.

This isn’t about wanting Gemma back, because I don’t. I would never be able to forget what she did, nor do I want to go back to that relationship. I think it was clear that it wasn’t working anymore.

But the fact remains that losing people hurts.

It means more than letting them go; it means letting the old you go. Because through each phase, we become new people.

This all makes sense to me until it doesn’t. As the night goes on, I start to miss Gemma a little more as I reminisce about the good old days. That’s the issue, I suppose—all of our good memories were pre-accident. We failed to make any new ones since.

And I know, deep down, that I’m mostly to blame for that. That epiphany leads me to drunk text Gemma like an idiot.

I can barely remember what I wrote—something about being a burden to her and my family. Of course, it doesn’t take long for me to phone Claire right after.

“Hello?”

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