Where The Ice Gives Way Chapter 87

**Blake**

I should be asleep by now, but I’m not. The house has settled into a deep, heavy quiet. It's usually enough to knock me out, but my eyes are fixed on the ceiling, and my mind won’t shut up long enough to let me drift off. The whole day keeps replaying, pieces of it sliding over each other, but none of it sticks the way one moment does. Her hand. The way it moved across the rug, slow and unsure, until it found mine. She didn’t have to do that. I didn’t reach for her first. I didn’t pull her in or give her a reason to meet me halfway. She chose it. She chose me. *She chose us,* Lex corrects, his voice carrying that quiet, satisfied certainty that makes it impossible to ignore. I let out a slow breath and drag a hand over my face, staring harder at the ceiling like it might help me think straight. “Yeah,” I mutter under my breath. *Important distinction.*

“You’re very proud of yourself.”

*And you are overthinking.* I roll onto my side, facing the wall now, but it doesn’t help. The feeling hasn’t left, it’s still sitting under my skin, making me giddy. Every time I think about it, it hits again, that quiet, simple moment where she didn’t pull away, where she let herself stay. *She will do it again,* Lex says, completely certain. I huff out a breath. “You don’t know that.”

*Ah, but I do.* I don’t bother arguing because there’s no point when he sounds like that. He’s so full of himself.

The house stays quiet, except for a single set of soft and careful footsteps. I don’t think much of it at first, because people move around at night, they get water, they wake up, they exist. Then the bathroom light clicks on between my room and Charlotte’s, and I find myself listening without meaning to. A few seconds pass, the light clicks off again, and the footsteps come back. They’re slower now, closer, and then there’s a soft tap against my door before it opens just enough for a sliver of light to spill across the floor. “Blake?” Her voice is so quiet. I’m sitting up before I’ve even registered the movement, pushing the blankets down as I look toward her. “Is everything okay?” I ask, already scanning her, expecting something to be wrong. “Do you need something?” The door opens a little wider, and Charlotte steps inside, closing it gently behind her. Through the moonlight streaming in through the window, I can see she’s in soft white pyjamas, the sleeves pulled down over part of her hands. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, and there’s something about the way she stands there that feels different from earlier. I realise she looks less guarded, like maybe she didn’t bother rebuilding those bricks from her walls she let down earlier today.

She walks over slowly, stopping at the side of the bed as her fingers play with the edge of her sleeve, and for a second she just stands there, like she’s working up the nerve to say something. Then she looks at me. “Can I sleep with you?” My answer is immediate. I shift back, pulling the covers open and making space for her without a second thought. “Yeah,” I say, softer now. “Of course.” She climbs in carefully, and I pull the covers over her as she settles beside me. The cold from her skin brushes against mine for a second before the warmth starts to build again. She curls slightly onto her side, hands tucked under her chin, facing me. Close. She’s so close. I shift onto my side to face her properly, propping myself up just enough to look at her. “You okay?” I ask quietly. She nods, but it’s small, and her eyes flick up to mine like she’s still deciding how much to say. “I…” she starts, then hesitates, her fingers tightening slightly against the fabric at her wrists. “I want more of that feeling.” She whispers. My chest tightens so absolutely. “The peace,” she adds, her voice barely audible. “I want the peace I feel with you.”

My whole world pauses. I see nothing but her. I hear nothing but her small breaths. I feel nothing but the cool contrast of her skin so close to mine. She is everything. I move closer without thinking about it, closing the space between us in a slow, careful shift, giving her time to pull back if she wants to, but she doesn’t. I stretch my arm above her head on the pillow, and she lifts, allowing me to slide it under the crook of her neck. At the same time, I move closer, and my knee bumps her thighs under the blankets. She lifts her leg, a silent invitation for me to slide mine between hers. Then she moves her face closer, her nose nuzzling into the bottom of my throat, one hand coming to my chest and the other wrapping around my waist. The space between us disappears completely. There it is. That same quiet. The undeniable peace washing over me. Lex begins to purr softly for her, and Shanti seems to answer it with her own. Charlotte’s breath evens out, her shoulders dropping as the tension leaves her, and I feel my own follow, the rhythm of it syncing without effort. *I told you so,* Lex murmurs, satisfied. I feel Charlotte’s eyes drift closed, her lashes fluttering against my skin, her body softening against mine.

My mind finally stops trying to keep up with everything that’s happened. She’s accepting our bond, Lex says, softer now. Yeah, I whisper back into my mind. I don’t try to downplay it, because I can feel it now, here, with her in my arms. The bond is strengthening between us; it has been for days, but this right here, this is Charlotte choosing to accept it. As her breathing deepens and sleep starts to take her, I realise that this is one of those moments I need to burn into my memories. When were old and grey and have lived out lives together, I want to remember this moment, right here: her hand resting over my heart and her forehead pressed to my throat, the warmth of her body wrapped around mine. When our lives have been lived, I want to remember this moment right here, of where they began.