Where The Ice Gives Way Chapter 68

**Blake**

Charlotte barely stirs for the next twenty minutes. I wait until I am sure Charlotte is deep enough asleep that the smallest shift in the couch no longer makes her fuss. Then I push a thought through the bond toward Theo. *Go upstairs and get my pillow and a used shirt from my wash basket.* Theo blinks at me from where he’s standing in the kitchen. His eyes cut to mine over the rim of his mug. *That’s an odd request.* I roll my eyes and give him a look. He lowers the mug slowly, suspicion written all over his face now, but with a long-suffering sigh he disappears toward the stairs. Charlie watches him go, then looks at me. “What are you doing?”

“Being smart,” I mutter. A minute later Theo comes back down carrying my pillow under one arm and one of my old tees pinched between two fingers. He stops beside the couch and looks between me and the stuff in his hands. “Well?” I take both from him. “Thank you.” I shake the shirt out and pull it over the pillow, stretching the fabric around it as neatly as I can manage one-handed while trying not to jostle Charlotte. Charlie watches the whole thing with his brows lifting higher and higher. Theo bites down on a grin and Charlie makes this strangled sound like he’s fighting laughter and losing badly. I ignore them. Very, very carefully, I shift my weight off the couch. Charlotte gives the faintest little breath in her sleep and turns fractionally toward the space I’m leaving. I slide the pillow into place at my side, easing it against her leg and hip as I maneuver myself out. She sighs and settles and thankfully stays asleep. Theo clamps a hand over his mouth and Charlie fully loses the fight and ducks his head with a silent laugh shaking his shoulders. I lift my hand and give both of them the finger. “Shut up,” I whisper.

Theo wheezes quietly into his hand and is grinning openly now, looking between me and the pillow-shaped decoy. “You’re tragic,” Theo mutters. “Yeah, well,” I whisper back, “it worked.” I head for Dad’s study and grab the first piece of paper and pencil I find on Dad’s desk. When I come back, both idiots are waiting to see what I do next. I roll my eyes at them and crouch in front of the couch. Charlie looks down at the paper in my hand, then at the pencil. Then back at me. “No.”

“Yes.” His grin turns wicked. “You’re weird as hell.” I shoot him a look. “Quiet.” Theo makes a choking sound and I point the pencil at him without looking away from Charlotte. “You too. Shut up.” Then I very, very slowly reach for one of Charlotte’s boots. Her foot is tucked slightly beneath the blanket, and I ease the shoe off a fraction at a time like I’m dismantling a bomb. The whole process takes forever because every tiny movement feels louder than it should. Charlotte murmurs once and curls more tightly toward Charlie and I freeze with one hand around her heel. Nobody breathes as she settles again and I can see Theo press both lips together so hard they almost disappear. Meanwhile Charlie has gone bright red from trying not to laugh. I slide the shoe free and hold it up triumphantly, shaking it in the air like we just won the hockey game. Theo silently applauds and I give him a wink before I place the paper flat on the floor and lift Charlotte’s socked foot gently down onto it. Her toes flex once against the page and my heart does something stupid.

I trace around her foot as quickly and quietly as I can. It comes out messy as hell because my hand is cramped against the coffee table and I’m rushing before she wakes, but it is close enough. That’s all I need. I ease her foot back under the blanket not daring to mess around with trying to replace her shoe. I push back to my feet and Charlie lifts a hand in a mocking salute. “I’ll be back,” I tell him quietly. He glances down at his sister, then back up at me with that same half-amused, half-knowing expression he’s been wearing for most of this ridiculous operation. “Try not to get arrested for suspicious behaviour.” I give him the finger again and turn to Theo. “You don’t leave her side.” Theo immediately straightens and gives me a salute of his own. “Yes, sir.”

“Idiot.” I whisper. “Takes one to know one.”

I give Charlotte one last look before I go. She is still curled beneath the blanket with my pillow tucked against her side, mouth relaxed in sleep, pale hair spilling over Charlie’s arm and the cushion beneath her. The sight of it hits me all over again. I get the same warm ache that has been living in my chest ever since Charlie told me about the little girl who grabbed her mothers skates before her world split open. I head for the kitchen, folded paper in hand and Mum looks up the second I walk in. Her eyes drop to what I’m holding, then to my face, and the smile that spreads over hers is immediate and impossible to miss. “What’s that?” she asks, though from the look of her she already knows. I hold up the paper and she looks down at the rough outline of a foot I traced on Dad’s stationary. Her smile turns into a full grin. “Blake Atlas.”

“Don’t start.” She laughs softly and hands it back. “Going to the shops?” I nod and Mum’s gaze turns toward the living room, softening for a second. “She’ll be fine here.”

“I know that.”

“I mean it.” She steps closer and smooths a hand over my shoulder like I’m still ten. “Go.” I glance once toward the couch, then I tuck the paper into my pocket. I grab my keys off the bench and head for the door. Outside, the cold hits hard and snow crunches under my boots as I cross the yard. I imagine a million different ways this could go, but by the time I reach the car, there is only one thing on my mind. My mate is getting new skates, and I really hope she likes them.