Page 63 of ICED
Maya gently shifts on the counter. “Lila…”
Lila turns to her mum, wide-eyed. “I’m not askin’ for a toy or sweets, I promise. Just skatin’. That’s not the same.”
There’s a heartbeat of silence.
Maya’s lip’s part, like she wants to say no on principle, but then she looks at me. At the way I kneel down, open arms, waiting for Lila like it’s second nature now.
Lila climbs straight into my lap, fits there like she’s done it a hundred times. Her small hands rest on my chest. Her curls tickle my chin.
I glance up at Maya. “Anytime she wants,” I say softly. “Anytime either of you want.”
Her expression shifts, something fragile and fierce flickering through it all at once. She opens her mouth, then closes it again. And finally, she just nods.
Lila rests her head against me, thumb in her mouth now. Safe. Settled.
“Bear makes me not fall,” she murmurs, eyes already drifting shut.
My throat goes tight.
“I got you, Jellybean,” I whisper into her curls. “Always.”
When I glance back at Maya, her arms are folded tight across her chest, but not in that guarded way she used to carry herself. No, this is something else. Bracing against the swell of feeling she’s not sure she can hold. Her eyes are glassy, and she won’t meet mine.
I don’t push her.
I just stay there on the bakery floor, holding her daughter like she’s the most precious thing I’ve ever touched.
And in that quiet moment, full of sugar and flour and the hush of a long day ending, something unspoken passes between the three of us.
Hope. Or the start of something that feels a lot like it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
MAYA
The shutters rattle down with a satisfyingclangbehind me as I lock up the bakery for the night. The air outside is crisp, and Lila skips ahead on the pavement, arms spread like airplane wings, cheeks pink from sugar and laughter.
Jacko falls into step beside me, carrying the empty muffin tin under one arm like it weighs nothing. “They were good muffins,” he says, glancing sideways at me. “Decent consistency. Solid chocolate chip distribution. Five stars.”
I snort. “You are ridiculous, you know that, right.”
“I’m a simple soul,” he says, completely unbothered. “Flour’s a love language.”
Lila glances back at us. “Bear, you aremessywhen you bake!”
“Am not.”
“Yep you are!”
“Oi,” he says, mock stern. “You saying I can’t be trusted with a muffin tin?”
She giggles so hard she almost trips over her own feet. I reach for her hand without thinking, steadying her, and when I glance up, Owen’s already there, slightly angled toward us, like his whole instinct is protection. Quiet. Automatic.
I feel the warmth of it down to my bones.
We pause at the kerb outside. His truck’s parked justahead, its windows fogged slightly from the warmth inside. Jacko swings his bag into the back seat like he’s done it a hundred times before, then leans against the open door, casual and sure.
His voice drops a little, soft just for me. “You two eaten yet?”
