Where The Ice Gives Way Chapter 120

**Charlotte**

Mara grabs both my hands and spins me across the kitchen as “Forever Young” plays low and crackly from the little radio by the window. I laugh, stumbling in my socks as she twirls me out, then back in again, her apron dusted with flour and her cheeks flushed from the heat of the ovens. The whole kitchen smells like muffins and melted chocolate, warm sugar and vanilla, and three different slices. Apparently, baking with Mara means feeding half the pack. 

She sings dramatically into a wooden spoon, and I lose it completely, bending over with one hand on the bench while she keeps going, entirely committed. “You’re meant to sing with me,” she says.

“I don’t know the words.”

“Neither do I, darling. That’s never stopped me.”

I laugh even harder. The back door opens a crack, and Gareth slips in. Again. He thinks he’s quiet, but he is absolutely not quiet. He has done this five times today, each attempt worse than the last, and every time he gets closer to the cooling rack with the same fake innocent look on his face. Mara doesn’t even turn around. “Gareth.”

He freezes with one hand already stretched toward the cookies. “What?”

She whips the tea towel off her shoulder and smacks his hand with it.

He laughs, catching her wrist before she can do it again, and then he scoops her up so suddenly she squeals. The sound is bright and surprised as he spins her once in the middle of the kitchen, her feet lifting off the floor, the tea towel still clutched in her hand. “Put me down, you menace.”

“Gladly.” He sets her back on her feet, kisses her cheek, and while she is still blinking up at him, he snatches a cookie from the rack. My mouth falls open, and I cover it with my hand as I hold back a laugh. Mara turns, and her eyes go straight to the missing space on the cooling rack, then snap back to Gareth as he backs toward the door, already chewing. “You sneaky bugger.” He grins around the cookie and disappears out the back door.

I laugh so hard I have to grip the counter. Mara points at me, trying to look stern and failing. “Grab that container, love. We have to secure the rest of them before he comes back.” I do as I’m told, still smiling as we move the cookies from the rack into the container, stacking them carefully between sheets of baking paper. The muffins come out of the oven next, golden and domed, steam curling up as Mara sets the tray down and hands me the oven mitts.

This has to be one of the best days I’ve had in a long time. Maybe ever. I try to commit this moment to my memories as I look around the room. The sunlight through the window. The cluttered bench. The old radio. Mara is humming beside me. Yep, I’m locking it all away and keeping it forever. I’ve realised today, it isn’t just Blake I love. It’s this house. This home that was built around him, and the people in it.

I love how easily they opened the door, how quickly they made space at the table, how they handed me food, warmth, safety, teasing, noise, all of it without asking me to earn it first. A year ago, it was Charlie and me against the world. Now there are so many hands around us. So many voices calling us home. *And me,* Shanti huffs. I laugh softly under my breath. “And you,” I tell her.

Mara glances over. “What was that?”

I shake my head, still smiling as I reach for the next tray. “Nothing,” I say. “Just… this is nice.” 

Mara’s expression gentles, and she bumps her hip lightly against mine. “Yes,” she says. “It is.”

The timer goes off then, and Mara points at the oven with the wooden spoon.

“Your muffins, darling.” I grab the oven mitts and open the door, heat rushing over my face as I carefully pull the tray out. The tops are golden and split slightly, little pockets of melted chocolate shining between them, and the smell that rolls through the kitchen is enough to make my stomach growl. Right on cue, Blake’s voice slides through the bond. *What are you doing?*

I smile before I even answer. *Waiting for muffins to cool.*

There’s a pause before I feel his interest sharpen so clearly through the bond that I almost laugh. *Muffins?*

*Yes. Muffins. Cookies. Slice. I think your mother is trying to rebuild the diner one baked good at a time.*

His laugh comes through the bond, and it settles straight into my chest. *Sounds about right. Are you having fun?*

I glance at Mara as she starts clearing the bench, humming along to the radio while she wipes flour from the counter. *Yeah,* I tell him. *I am.*

The bond between us warms. *Good.*

I put the tray on the cooling rack and start easing the muffins out of the tin. *What are you doing?*

*Listening to Coach yell at Theo for showboating.*

*Is Theo showboating?*

*Always.*

I bite back a smile, and Mara glances at me. “Blake?” I nod. Her mouth curves as she reaches for another container.

*I miss you,* he says suddenly.

My hands still for half a second around the edge of the tray as that warmth spreads further through me. *I miss you too.*

There’s another pause before I hear softly, *Save me a muffin?*

I look at the cooling rack, then at Mara, who is already sliding the cookie container farther from the back door as if Gareth might come crawling through the window next. *You may have to fight your mother for one. She’s already fending your dad off them. They’re for the fundraiser tomorrow.*

His amusement brushes against me. *I have eyes Mum can’t say no to.*

I snort. *You’re very full of yourself.*

*You like it.* Unfortunately, I do.

*Go train.*

*Yes, ma’am.*

The link quiets, but it doesn’t disappear. He stays there under my skin, present and warm, while Mara finishes sealing the containers and slides the last tray aside to cool. “Right,” she says, wiping her hands on her apron. “The rest can wait. Come with me.”

I follow her into the living room, where the fire has been built up again and the afternoon light sits soft over the rug. Mara kneels by the cabinet under the bookshelf and pulls out a stack of puzzle boxes, balancing them in her arms before spreading them across the coffee table. “Gareth and Blake never want to do one of these with me, but they still buy me one every year for Christmas.” I sit across from her, tucking my legs under me as she pushes the boxes toward me. “Which one do you want to do?”

I look down at them, then back at her. My chest aches a little, but in a good way this time. This is everything I’ve been missing… All at once, I remember what it felt like to have a mum, and unconditional love.