Page 152 of ICED
“I get that,” I say, wrapping both arms around her. “But it’s okay to be apprehensive. We’ll figure it out together. No timelines. No rules. Just us.”
She nods slowly. “Okay,” she whispers. “Then yeah. I want this to be permanent. I want to wake up here with you. I want Lila to have her unicorn apron inourkitchen. I want her to grow up knowing what safe feels like. I want her to have good male role models in her life, and I think you and the guys provide that for her. For us.”
My throat goes tight. I press a kiss to her hair and close my eyes.
“You’ve got it, beautiful,” I say. “You’ve both got everything.”
It’s been a week since Jamie got arrested.
Seven days since Maya sat in front of a police officer and, in a voice that barely shook, laid out everything she’d lived through. The burns and bruises. The threats. The night she fled with a baby in her arms and no plan except survive. I sat beside her the whole time, fists clenched under the table,throat dry, heart pounding like it was me telling the story. But I wasn’t. I just held her hand.
Now she’s in the kitchen, hair scraped up, apron dusted with flour, singing off-key to Lila while stirring something in a giant pot on the stove. Batch cooking for Sophie and Murph. There are six lasagnes cooling on the counter, and at least three labelled tubs of chicken stew. A tray of oatmeal muffins rests near the sink. Another load of something is in the oven, and it smells like apples and cinnamon and calm.
Lila dances around the kitchen with a wooden spoon, wearing a unicorn apron over her pyjamas and talking to the muffins like they’re her children.
It’s chaos. Pure, beautiful, comforting chaos.
And I can’t stop watching it.
I should be getting ready for practice. Instead, I lean against the doorway, arms folded, heart full. Maya catches me looking and smiles. Not one of the small, polite smiles she used to give when she was scared of taking up space. A real one. Wide. Crinkled at the eyes.
“Owen,” she says, teasing, “are you going to stand there staring or make yourself useful and grate the cheese?”
“I’m not interrupting genius-level meal prep, am I?” I ask.
She points the spoon at me. “You want Murph and Sophie to eat something other than toast and desperation this week?”
I grab the cheese.
Lila darts by me on her way to get more cupcake cases. She pats my leg like I’m a dog and says, “We’re making apple fairy cakes next, Bear. You have to be gentle with the batter or it gets sad.”
“Good tip,” I say solemnly. “I’ll remember that for the guys at practice.”
Maya snorts. “You think anyone on your line has ever been gentle with anything?”
She’s lighter today. Still tired, we both are, but the weightshe’s been carrying around isn’t pressing quite so hard against her chest.
Jamie was processed, charged, and transported back to his home county to face court. His bail application was denied, thanks in no small part to Maya’s statement and the support from Mia’s brother who happens to be a lawyer. Not to mention half the damn team writing character references on her behalf.
Murphy’s been in and out since the baby was born, eyes glazed, hair messy, jacket buttoned wrong.
“Guys,” he said yesterday in the locker room, staring into the middle distance like he’d seen war. “He shat in my hand. My own son. Looked me in the eye and did it.”
Dylan had laughed so hard he pulled a muscle in his side.
Now the poor bastard looks like a zombie, so Maya did what Maya does. She made food and I baked bread. Because she can’t fix everything, but she can feed you. And that’s her version of love.
Mine version of love is standing beside her, supporting her, arm brushing hers, slicing vegetables while she talks about microwave-friendly meals and freezable portions.
Her phone buzzes on the counter. She glances at it, mouth tightening.
I lower the knife. “Everything okay?”
She hesitates, then nods. “It’s the officer handling my case. Just an update. Jamie’s hearing is next week. They think he’ll plead guilty.”
I watch her face carefully. “And how do you feel about that?”
She exhales slowly. “Like I might sleep properly for the first time in five years.”
