Page 17 of Cold Front
“So, you liked the pancakes, right?” I asked, tilting my head toward him.
Niall exhaled, more breath than sigh. “They were fine.”
I gasped, clutching my chest in mock betrayal. “Fine? I slaved over that batter.”
“Mixing flour and eggs is hardly slaving.”
“Excuse you, those pancakes were perfection.”
He huffed a breath—barely a sound, but enough to make me suspect he wasn’t quite as unimpressed as he wanted me to believe. “They were good.”
I grinned. “Damn right they were. I like to cook.”
He glanced at me then, not quite turning his head, just a flick of his gaze in my direction. “Hm.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Just didn’t expect that.”
I smirked. “What about you? What’s something I wouldn’t expect?”
He went silent for a beat. Then, in a voice like he already regretted saying it, “I build model ships.”
I blinked, the answer so unexpected I almost missed the way the tops of his ears darkened. “Like… tiny boats?”
He scowled. “Yes, tiny boats.”
A slow grin spread across my face. “That’s kinda badass.”
Niall looked away, feigning indifference, but the stiffness in his jaw had softened. “It’s just a hobby.”
“Well, I demand to see one.”
“Not happening.”
“We’ll see.”
Niall shook his head but kept walking, and I kept snapping pictures, each one somehow feeling like another piece of this new life I was slowly building.
As we reached the end of the trail, I slowed my steps, scrolling through the dozens of photos I’d taken. I bit my lip, narrowing them down. Definitely the lake. The squirrel—because who didn’t love a cute animal pic? And one of the trail, for good measure. After some minor edits, I typed a caption:Not bad for a morning hike. 8/10. Would be 10/10 if I didn’t have to wake up early.
Satisfied, I hit Post. Then, before I could overthink it, I turned to Niall. “Hey, what’s your handle?”
“My what?”
“Your Insta. Come on, don’t tell me you don’t have one.”
He looked vaguely uncomfortable. “I do. Just don’t use it much.”
“Perfect. Time to change that.” I smirked. “What is it?”
Niall hesitated, then muttered something unintelligible.
I blinked. “What?”
He sighed, his shoulders rising and falling with exaggerated reluctance. “N.Caldwell.42.”
I typed it in and grinned when his near-empty profile popped up. No posts. Just a blurry profile pic that looked like it had been taken by accident. “Wow. Riveting content.”
