Page 84 of On Thin Ice

“Hi, Donnie,” Ethan said, his tone gentle as he asked, “You want me to take a picture of you guys together?”

Donnie gave a small, grateful smile and nodded while chewing on his bottom lip. “Would that be okay?” he asked, looking up at me with hope shining in his eyes.

Ethan pressed his palm lightly against my back, urging me forward.

“Uh, yeah. That’d be awesome,” I told him, finally finding my voice.

“Here, gimme your phone,” Ethan instructed.

Donnie reached into his back pocket and pulled out an older model iPhone, the screen cracked in several places. He passed it to Ethan, ducking his head with an embarrassed expression on his face.

“I’m … I’m not like him,” Donnie whispered when I stepped next to him, his chin jutted out toward where Ethan was standing a few feet away, adjusting the settings on the phone’s camera. “I’m like you, but nobody knows. I’m afraid to say anything.”

“I get that. It can definitely be scary. Just know that you don’t have to tell anyone until you’re absolutely ready.” I fought to keep my gaze from bouncing to the man whose bed I shared every night.

“Are you safe at home?” I asked, my memories from that time of my own life threatening to pull me under.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I live with my grandma, and she’s cool. She has a pride flag in our yard.”

“Oh, man. That’s so awesome. Go Grandma!”

He smiled then, a shy little quirking of his lips. “I think she might know. She asked if my buddy on my hockey team was my ‘special friend.’ I was like, ‘Ew, gross, Grandma.’”

I tried my best to keep my expression completely neutral, not wanting to give away the fact that I had my own “special friend” on the team I played for, and he was standingright there.

“She sounds really cool, Donnie,” I told him. “And I’m sure when you’re ready to talk to someone about it, she’d be a really good option.”

He shuffled the toe of his boot through the wood chips at our feet, his expression turning contemplative. A family brushed past us, their excited chatter about which tree to choose momentarily intruding on our bubble of privacy. “Yeah, you’re right,” he finally said. “I should probably tell her.”

“But only if you want to,” I reminded him.

His shoulders relaxed slightly, like he’d made a decision he’d been weighing for a while.

“I do.” He nodded once, his gaze lifting to meet mine with newfound certainty.

“That’s good then.” I offered him a smile that I hoped looked reassuring, the weight of responsibility pressing down on me. Being a young boy’s first confidant was no small thing, and I hoped like hell I’d handled this properly.

His fingers tightened around his backpack straps, then relaxed. “Thanks, Bell,” he said, voice steadier now. “Getting to talk to you … getting to tell you …” His words faltered as a slight sheen appeared in his eyes. “It means a lot to me.”

“You’re welcome,” I said after a beat, my words sounding rough and shaky as emotion welled inside me. “It means a lot to me, too.”

I cleared my throat, glancing toward where Ethan was patiently waiting. “You ready for our picture now?”

“Yeah,” Donnie nodded, his mouth splitting into a wide, happy smile for the first time since he’d approached us.

I stepped closer, angling myself next to him as Ethan backed up a few paces, framing us carefully in the camera view. The scent of pine intensified as a light breeze swept through the lot, stirring the branches around us.

“On three,” Ethan said, standing with his feet braced shoulder width apart and the kid’s iPhone raised in front of him. “One, two, three.”

After taking our photo, Ethan handed the phone back to Donnie, who shoved it into his back pocket and said, “Thanks again,” before disappearing into the crowd.

I stared after him for a long while, hoping he was going to find his cool as hell Grandma.

Next to me, Ethan cleared his throat. “Everything okay?”

I turned to face him, shoving my hands into the pockets of my jeans and rocking back on my heels. “I think so.”

He lifted his chin, gesturing in the direction Donnie had gone. “That looked a bit intense.”

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