Where The Ice Gives Way Chapter 147

**Charlotte**

I have appealed to every person in this house for four days now. Four. Full. Days. I have supplied sufficient evidence of being alive and well, if we politely ignore the memory loss and the occasional headaches.

Mara listens with soft eyes and says, “Soon, sweetheart.”

Gareth folds his arms and says, “We’ll talk about it.”

Charlie says, “Ask Blake.”

Which is stupid, because Charlie knows exactly what Blake is going to say. Blake says no.

Not always in those exact words. Sometimes he says, “Let’s give it another day.” Sometimes he says, “We’ll see how you feel tomorrow.” Sometimes he distracts me with food or kisses, which works more often than I want to admit. But the answer is always there under it. No school. No rink. No leaving the house. Barely leaving his bed most days, because everyone has decided I am a recently rescued Victorian ghost who must be kept under blankets and fed soup until I regain full citizenship. In some ways, it is adorable. In other ways, I am losing my mind.

Blake has told me about the friends I’ve been making. Jessica and Annabelle, who visit but are kept to short windows because I am “still recovering.” He told me he applied for me to join the figure skating team, which made me so excited I nearly cried into my breakfast. And yet he has made no move to actually allow me near the outside world. I am fine. Mostly.

I simply want to start learning the other parts of my life. I want to see it, feel it, I want to be inside the life they keep telling me I had. Which is how I end up kneeling in front of Blake in his room, giving him the best puppy dog eyes I have ever used in my entire life. At least, I assume they’re good. They feel powerful. Blake sits on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, staring down at me with a conflicted face.

“Lotty.”

“No,” I say quickly. “Don’t use that voice.”

His mouth twitches into a sideways smile. “What voice?”

“The voice where you sound reasonable right before you ruin my day.”

His almost-smile fades, and he drags one hand through his hair. No. No no. That’s not good.

“School is a lot,” he says.

“I’m aware. There are books. Chairs. Teachers. Teenagers making questionable life choices.” His brows lift before he exhales through his nose. “You’ve only been awake for four days.”

“Yes, but I’ve been alive for eighteen years,” I whine.

Blake looks away for a second, toward the window, to the backyard, where I know something is happening because everyone gets very quiet whenever I ask about the noise. He thinks I don’t notice. How could I not? 

“Lotty,” he says again, a little quieter. “It’s not that I want to keep you locked up in here. I just want you to be safe. There are things… things I’m not sure you’re fully aware of.”

“Yes,” I say, and my voice cracks before I can stop it. “I know there are things. Stuff even Shanti won’t tell me, because apparently you, Lex, her, and everyone else in this house have decided I’m too fragile for it.”

I feel all my emotions bubbling to the surface, but I push on before he can interrupt.

“But I’m not fragile, Blake. I just can’t remember.”

The tears come then, making me feel pathetic, but they do add to the puppy dog effect. I see the exact moment Blake’s heart gives up the fight. He drops off the bed and lands on his knees in front of me. His hands come to my face, thumbs brushing under my eyes.

“Baby,” he whispers.

That one word almost undoes me. I lean into his hands, seeking his warmth.

“You don’t understand how much you mean to me, Lotty,” he says, voice rough. “If anything happened to you…”

“If anything happened, you’d be right there with me, right?”

He nods immediately. “Always.”

I lift my hand and place it over his, holding his palm against my cheek.

“Then tell me what I’m supposed to be afraid of. Tell me, and then stand beside me if it happens again. Please, Blake.”

His thumb moves under my eye, catching another tear before it can fall. He lowers his forehead to mine, and his breath shakes when it leaves him.

“I don’t want to put it back in your head before you’re ready. I don’t want to be the person who hurts you with the truth.”

“You won’t be,” I whisper, and his eyes close.

“You don’t know that.”

I touch the stubble along his jaw, dragging my finger up and down in a line.

“I know you,” I say, swallowing down the tears. “I don’t remember everything, but I know you.” I place a hand over my sternum, “right here. I know you would never hurt me. So if you tell me something hard,” I whisper, “You’ll be there to hold me through it.”

He looks at me for a long time before he whispers back, “Okay.”

The word hits my chest, and relief floods through me. “Okay?” I ask.

He pulls me closer, stretching his legs out underneath me as his back rests against the bed. Then he tells me about the pieces I am missing. I knew it would hurt. I knew he wouldn’t keep something from me for no reason, but he holds me through it. He keeps his words soft and runs a hand along my back as he stares off into the void while he recounts what happened leading up to the day that I almost died.

My heart breaks and reshapes with every word. I don’t know how to take most of it, but I’m glad to have it. These are my memories, my life, our life, and I feel better having that part with me again. When he finishes, he sits back and pulls my head to his chest. 

“I can’t stop you from living your life, Lotty, and I don’t want to. I just want to hold you a little longer in this bubble of peace.”

“The world is waiting for me, Blake,” I whisper. 

“I know, baby… I know.”