Page 76 of ICED
“Do you regret it?”
He pauses. “No. Because I wasn’t who I needed to be back then. But I think I’m getting there now.”
There’s a story there. One I can feel between the lines. But I don’t push.
We’ve both shared enough for one morning.
“You’ll meet someone,” I say.
He smiles. “Hope she likes chaos.”
“She’d have to.”
We bump shoulders again, and this time the silence is lighter. Filled with something like hope.
Then Dylan walks in, towel around his neck, already chirping about Ollie stealing his protein bar, and the moment shifts. The room fills as the team arrives.
But I carry the quiet with me.
The kiss. The promise. The feeling that maybe I’ve found something worth holding onto. And someone worth fighting for.
Even if she needs time. Even if we have to take the long way around.
I’ll wait.
Because for the first time in my life,I want forever.
And I think I’ve finally found someone who might want it too.
CHAPTER THIRTY
MAYA
There’s a war zone on my bed.
Well, less blood, more cotton.
Dresses, jeans, a polka-dot skirt I didn’t even know I still owned. Lila’s clothes are piled beside mine in tiny, colourful heaps, like a rainbow exploded in miniature. She’s currently modelling a tutu and butterfly wings, spinning in circles with one sock on.
“You think we’re overdressed?” I ask her, biting my lip as I hold up a pale pink blouse and a navy wrap dress, trying to see which one makes me look less like someone who hasn’t slept properly in four years.
Lila stops spinning. “It’s aparty.”
“Right,” I sigh. “But it’s also ahockeyparty. So, they probably just wear tracksuits. And protein powder. And testosterone.” I mutter to myself.
Lila gasps. “What’s testrone?”
“Nothing you need to worry about, sweetie.”
She climbs onto the bed and pats my hand. “Wear the blue dress. You look like a princess.”
My heart does a funny lurch.
God help me, my daughter’s going to rule the world one day.
I glance at the time. Owen said he’d pick us up at noon,and it’s already eleven-thirty. That gives me thirty minutes to spiral further and consider faking a migraine.
I sit on the edge of the bed and exhale shakily. I don’t do events like this. Baby showers. Gender reveals. Crowds of beautiful women in coordinated pastel tones who know how to contour and walk in heels without looking like a newborn deer.
