Where The Ice Gives Way Chapter 46

**Charlotte**

I come back in pieces. First, it’s the pain, a sharp flash that makes my whole body tense like it expects the snap again, then it fades into a dull throb that sits deep in my leg and pulses. Next, it’s warmth. Not the kind you get from a heater that barely works, but real warmth that wraps around me from all sides, thick blankets, a mattress underneath, air that smells like cedar and smoke so strongly it feels like it’s in my lungs. Then there’s the tingles. They run through me in soft waves, down my spine, along my ribs, into my fingertips, like something is smoothing the jagged edges of my body back into place. It’s the same sensation I felt on the blankets when Blake’s hand was on my back, only now it’s everywhere, constant and steady, like a hum.

I blink, and my eyes don’t want to open properly at first. The light is low, and the room is quiet except for the faintest creak of a house settling. My lashes lift. Blake is sitting on the edge of the bed, close enough that I can see the shadow of stubble at his jaw. His hand is in my hair, moving slowly through it, fingers combing from my temple to the back of my head. The second my eyes flutter fully open, he stops. His hand pulls back, retreating enough not to touch me. My body moves before my brain catches up. I shift my head an inch, the smallest movement, and his fingers land back in my hair. Blake goes still, and I close my eyes again and let out a breath. When I open my eyes again, the room makes more sense. I’m in a bedroom. The walls are darker, the bedding is clean, there’s a hockey stick leaning in a corner, and a pile of clothes folded on a chair. I swallow and try to move my leg, and pain rips through me. Blake’s hand pauses in my hair again. I blink at him. “Where am I?”

Blake’s gaze flicks over my face, then down toward my leg. “My room.” My mouth goes dry. My eyes dart down to the blanket pulled up over me, and I realise how undressed I feel underneath it. Heat rushes to my cheeks. Shanti stirs in the back of my mind, calm and present. *Mate has been caring for us,* she whispers. *He’s been a gentleman.* I stare at Blake, then look away quickly because this all feels too intimate. Blake’s hand hovers near my hair again, uncertain now that I’m fully awake, and I realise I’m the one who moved into his touch… I asked for it without words. My throat tightens. “I’m sorry,” I blurt out because an apology is easier than gratitude, and easier than admitting I needed someone. Blake’s brows pull together. “Don’t.” The word is firm, but not harsh. I glance at him anyway. “I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have made you deal with that.” Blake’s jaw tightens, and for a second, I think I’ve pissed him off, but his eyes stay soft. “You didn’t make me do anything.”

My face heats more. I shift my gaze to the wall, to the hockey posters, to anything that isn’t his eyes. “Is there any chance you have some clothes I could borrow? I promise I’ll wash them and give them back.” Blake lets out a short breath that might be a laugh if he let it. He gets up and walks to his closet, pulling out different pieces of clothes. “You can have anything of mine.” I curl my fingers into the blanket as he comes to put on a soft pair of black tracksuit pants and a white long-sleeve shirt beside me. “Thank you…” I whisper. “I’m happy you came here,” he says quietly. I blink fast, because something in my throat is doing that stupid tight thing again, and I hate that my body keeps reacting like I’m fragile when I’ve spent years proving I’m not. I manage to sit up, holding the blanket to my chest, and Blake respectfully turns around. “If you need help, I can call mum in.” The shirt is easy enough; the pants are a whole different ball game, but I manage. I’m used to physical pain.

Voices rise from downstairs, and I recognise Charlie’s voice immediately, frantic and rough around the edges, and my stomach drops. Pain bites my leg again as I try desperately to swing my legs off the bed. Blake turns, quickly hand presses gently to my shoulder, and eases me back down. “Hey,” he says, low and steady. “It’ll take a little bit.”

“I need to see him,” I whisper, voice thin. “You will,” Blake says. “Your leg needs a minute to catch up.” I swallow hard and glare at my own body that’s betraying me. “I heal fast.”

“You do,” he agrees, then his eyes flick to my leg. “And it’ll go faster with me close.” I blink at him. “What?” Blake’s mouth twitches slightly, “Our mate bond,” he says, quietly. “Us being close will help you heal faster.” I stare at him like he’s crazy… but I can feel it. It’s running through me right now like a slow current, smoothing the ache in my bones, taking the edge off the pain. My cheeks burn again, and I look away because if I look at him too long, I’ll start thinking about what this really means, and I’m not ready for that. Charlie’s voice rises again, and I flinch.

Blake’s hand leaves my shoulder, and he shifts like he’s going to stand. “I’ll get him.” But he doesn’t move. He stays sitting right there. I must still be looking at him like he’s crazy because he taps his temple with two fingers. “Mind linking,” he says. “Pack can talk to each other.” I stare at him, then at the door, then back at him. “So you’re… you’re talking right now.” Blake nods once. His eyes don’t leave my face. “Yeah. I’m telling Dad you’re awake and want to see him.” Well, that makes a lot of things make a little more sense… I wonder if Charlie and I could do that… or would we need to be in a pack? Blake’s gaze softens a fraction as he stares off into the distance, like he’s listening to someone else’s response. “He’s coming up,” Blake says.

Footsteps hit the stairs. It sounds like more than just Charlie’s alone, and they climb fast, the sound filling the hallway outside. Blake’s hand returns to my hair, steady again, and his voice drops low. “You’re safe,” he says before pulling his hand back as the doorknob turns.