Page 147 of ICED
Lila scampers to the hallway to give Dylan a sticky chocolate-smeared high five and a hug, which he accepts withmock solemnity. Then he’s gone, the door closing behind him with a soft click. The house falls into a quieter kind of stillness.
Ollie stretches with a groan, tossing one of the couch cushions to the floor. “Right. Time to set up basecamp.”
“You sure you want to stay here?” Maya asks, eyebrows lifting.
He shrugs. “Pretty comfy for a war bunker.”
“I’ll get you a duvet,” she says, already moving toward the hallway.
Lila tugs at Ollie’s sleeve. “Can I help?”
He beams at her. “Absolutely, Miss Lila. You’re my assistant.”
“Do I get a badge?”
“Give me five minutes and a cereal box.”
Lila giggles, dragging a throw blanket off the armchair while Ollie fluffs a pillow with exaggerated precision. They work together, arranging things in what she decides is a “snuggle fort.” Maya returns with a duvet and a hot water bottle, and Ollie dramatically tucks it under his arm like a secret weapon.
“There,” Lila says proudly, hands on her hips. “Now you’re safe too.”
“Thanks, kiddo. We’re all safe.” Ollie ruffles her hair. “You’re the real boss around here.”
She yawns and pads over to Maya, wrapping her arms around her leg. “Night night, Mummy.”
Maya scoops her up for one last cuddle. “Night, my love.”
I take her from Maya’s arms and carry her down the hall, brushing teeth, reading one short story, then tucking her in tight. She’s out before I switch off the light.
By the time I return, the living room’s dimmed and quiet. Ollie’s already sprawled on the couch, duvet up to his chest, a half-eaten brownie on the side table.
I nod toward him. “You need anything?”
“Just a better world,” he murmurs dramatically. “And maybe some ice cream.”
“Dream big.”
He gives me a lazy salute. “’Night, mate.”
I flick off the hall light and pad back to the bedroom.
Maya’s sitting on the bed, one leg curled beneath her, brushing her hair out. The soft lamp light catches the curve of her neck, the line of her collarbone above her sleep shirt. She looks up as I enter.
I strip down to boxers and crawl in beside her, sliding a hand over her hip and easing us both down under the quilt. She curls into me immediately, her palm pressed flat over my chest, her cheek warm against my shoulder.
We lie there for a while, saying nothing. Just breathing.
Then, softly she says, “Thank you.”
I look down. “For what?”
“For talking me into staying,” she whispers. “For letting me leave the suitcase packed, even when you hated the idea of us leaving.”
I press my lips to her hair. “I didn’t want you to go, but I knew you needed toknowthat you could. That you had the choice. I just wanted you to know you didn’t have to run.”
She nods against me. “It meant everything, knowing that you see me. That you get it. I didn’t want to. Not really. I just... I’m so used to needing an escape plan.”
“Doesn’t mean you’re not brave.”
