Where The Ice Gives Way Chapter 58

**Blake**

“Alright,” Mum calls out. “Enough talking. Time to feast.” The yard breaks apart into movement straight away. The barbecue hisses harder as a fresh line of sausages gets thrown down and chairs scrape over the pavers. Beside me, Charlotte lets out a small breath. I glance down at her. She’s still looking out across the yard, shoulders a little tight under my hand, green eyes taking in too much at once. She’s holding herself together well, better than most people would after a day like this, but I can feel the tension in her all the same. “I’ll get you a plate,” I say quietly. “Is there anything you don’t like? Anything you’re allergic to?” She looks up at me, and I think she’s going to shake her head and tell me no just because it’s easier than admitting any preference at all. Her mouth opens and closes before her nose scrunches up a little like she’s arguing with herself. I wait and lift one eyebrow. She notices and gives me this look, half shy and half caught. “What?” I ask, fighting a grin. Her eyes dip away for a second. “I really don’t like beans.” I bark out a soft laugh. Of all the things. “Got it,” I say. “No beans.” A smile tugs at her mouth, and I lean in a little closer so I can keep my voice low just for her. “Very serious issue. I’ll protect you from them.” That gets me another one of those little huffs that’s almost a laugh, and my chest loosens at the sound of it. “I won’t be long.” I give her shoulder a gentle squeeze before I take my hand away. “Stay with Mum, alright?”

Mum appears at Charlotte’s other side before I’ve even fully stepped back. “She’s got me,” she says, sliding an arm around Charlotte’s back. “Go on.” It takes more effort than it should to turn away from her. The food table is chaos. It always is when the whole pack’s been invited. I eye the big metal trays of steak and sausages, bowls of salad, potato bake and bread rolls. There’s a pasta salad that could feed an army, three different sauces, a tray of roasted veg and another full of corn. The bowl of beans sitting near the end, like a personal threat, is a bowl of beans. I smirk to myself and pick up two plates. No beans. I get a little bit of everything, and I avoid the beans with the focus of a bomb tech. When I turn back, my gaze finds her instantly. Every bloody time. She’s where I left her, near the firepit, Mum beside her and Mrs Donnelly talking her ear off while Charlotte nods politely and tries not to look overwhelmed. Her crutches are still under her arms, but she’s leaning most of her weight on one side now. She’s tired. I can see it in her eyes and the way she keeps shifting on that injured leg like she’s trying not to make a fuss.

Mum spots me coming and steps aside with a knowing little smile. I stop in front of her and hold up the plate. “Inspected thoroughly. No beans.” She smiles up at me, “Thank you.”

“Come sit,” I say, guiding her over to a chair closer to the fire. Once she’s close enough, I set my drink down, take the crutches from her, and lean them within easy reach beside the chair. I hand her the plate and take the seat beside hers.

The yard moves around us in waves of sound and smoke and lamplight. I watch as Charlotte picks at the edge of the bread roll, then glances sideways at me. “This is really good, thank you.” I look over at her, deadpan. “I take my responsibilities seriously.” She laughs quietly and takes a bite of steak as she looks out over the yard again. “There are so many people.” “Mm.”

“Do you know everyone here?”

“Pretty much.” Her brows lift. “Seriously?” I shrug. “Most of them I grew up with. The rest I’ve known long enough that they still feel like family.” Across the yard, Theo is already in the thick of things with Charlie, both of them surrounded by half the men our age. Charlie still looks a little out of place, but less than before. He’s got a plate in one hand now, and a drink in the other, and now and then his eyes flick back over to Charlotte. I glance back at Charlotte. Firelight catches in her hair, gold over pale blonde. Her lashes cast shadows against her cheeks as she looks down at her plate. She’s taken the knit sleeves of that jumper over part of her hands, and there’s a tiny line between her brows while she concentrates on balancing the plate without jostling her leg. She’s so bloody pretty. Without saying anything, she shifts in her chair… Just a little. Enough that the outside of her knee brushes mine, and she keeps it there. The contact is so slight that anyone else would miss it. I don’t. My whole body goes warm. I keep my eyes on the fire because if I look at her straight away, I’m going to ruin it by looking far too pleased with myself, but I let my leg stay exactly where it is. My whole world revolves around that contact.

A few minutes pass like that. She is eating slowly. I’m pretending I’m not aware of every tiny spark between us. Pack noise rising and falling around the yard while night folds in closer overhead. Then Charlotte speaks so quietly I almost miss it. “They really mean it, don’t they?” I turn my head to her. “What?”

“This.” She looks out across the backyard. At the people. At the lights. At Charlie laughing at something Theo has said. At Mum, carrying over another armful of plates for no reason other than she thinks everyone is underfed by default. “When they say they’ll protect us.” I look at my pack. My family. Then back at her. “Yeah,” I say. “They do.” I see the way her fingers tighten around the fork in her hand. She hums softly, staring into the fire. She leans back in the chair, leaning a little into me at the same time. It’s not much, but it’s enough to make my heart swell, and a smile spreads across my face. Madness. This feeling is absolute bloody madness, and I want every second of it.