Where The Ice Gives Way Chapter 93

**Charlotte**

By the time Blake pulls up outside the diner, the sky has already started to dim, the last of the afternoon light thinning into that soft grey-blue that makes the streetlights come to life one by one. The little building glows from the inside, warm yellow spilling out across the pavement, the windows fogging slightly at the edges from the heat. Blake cuts the engine, but neither of us moves straight away. I sit there with my bag at my feet and my hands folded in my lap, watching my reflection blur faintly in the passenger window and feeling that now-familiar little flutter move through me. The day at school had gone so much better than it had any right to. Too well, almost. Blake glances over at me, one hand still resting loosely on the steering wheel. “You good?”

“Yeah.” I smile at his constant check-ins. Then he pushes his door open and comes around to my side. When I step out, he’s already there, taking my bag from me without asking and falling into step beside me as we head toward the door. The bell above it jingles the second he opens it, and warmth rolls over us, carrying the smell of fried food, coffee, gravy, sugar, and something sweet baking out the back. 

Sophie is carrying two plates toward the back, her apron dusted with flour and something dark that I really hope is chocolate sauce. There are only a few customers in at the moment. I suspect that will change in an hour when the dinner rush starts. Blake slows slightly as we step in. He gives the smallest nod toward a booth on the far side of the room where two men sit with coffees in front of them, both broad through the shoulders, both looking like they’ve come straight from work in dark jackets and boots. He leans in close enough that his mouth brushes my ear. “They’re pack.” I glance toward them again, and one of them looks up just long enough to tip his chin once in greeting before returning to his mug like nothing at all is unusual. “Told you you wouldn’t be alone.” He waves toward Sophie, who sees him, grins, and wiggles her brows once in a way that makes heat rush straight into my face because she absolutely noticed he walked me in. “I’ll pick you up after your shift,” Blake says quietly. I look at him. “You don’t have to.” He rolls his eyes and kisses my cheek. “Don’t be silly. I’ll be here.” He hands me my bag with a warm smile and then heads back out into the evening.

Sophie appears at my side before I can stop staring. “So,” she says. I blink and turn to her. “So what?” She grins wider. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” I say, and I’m surprised by how true it sounds. “Actually... good.” Sophie’s face softens. “Good.” Then she claps her hands and hands me an apron. “Okay, well, you can start by grabbing table three a jug of water because Gary is a thirsty fellow.” I look over and find an old man already waving at me dramatically from his booth, and I laugh as I get to work. The first hour moves quickly. Orders come in. Plates go out. Coffee gets poured. Sophie keeps me moving, talking me through things as we go, and before long, I stop feeling like I’m standing inside a job and start enjoying it. It’s nice. Simple. Busy in a way that gives my hands something to do and my mind something easy to follow. For little stretches at a time, I forget to think too hard about myself at all. The dinner rush starts not long after that. The door opens more often, and more voices fill the room. Orders stack up, and Sophie mutters dramatic threats at the printer every time another ticket spits out. 

Three boys from school walk in, and I head towards them, ready to get them seated. “Well, look who works here,” one of them says, like I’m somehow a surprise worth commenting on. I force a polite smile and grab menus. “Table or booth?” They take the booth near the middle window and spend the first five minutes being normal enough that I tell myself I’m being ridiculous for even noticing the shift in Shanti. Then one of them says something slightly louder to another, and the second snaps back. I mentally roll my eyes at the male ego pouring off then and bring their drinks to the table. “I’m telling you, that’s not what he said.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s not.”

“You weren’t even there, mate.”

“Neither were you.” They argue with each other, getting more and more heated. “Here you go,” I say, setting the drinks down carefully. One of them barely glances at me. “Thanks.” The other leans forward. “Tell him he’s being an idiot.” I look between them and deadpan. “I’m not getting involved in that.”

“You should,” the first one snaps. “Because he is.” They start talking over each other, louder and more defensive with every word, until all three are half out of their seats and I’m standing there with a tray in my hand, feeling caught in the middle. I look over my shoulder at Sophie, who’s already looking this way. *Touch him.* Shanti says as they argue over the table. I set the tray down on the table and place my hand on the nearest boy’s shoulder. The change is immediate. The hot, stupid and pointless male ego drains out of him faster than it went in. His shoulders loosen under my palm, and the hard set of his jaw eases. He blinks once, then looks at the other boy like he’s suddenly remembering where he is. “What the hell?” he mutters. The second one is still wound tight and breathing too hard. *The other one,* Shanti says. I step across and put my hand on his shoulder too, fingers light, barely there. Again, it happens. The tension goes.

He looks down at the table. Then at me. Then back at his mate with a frown that says he has no idea what just happened or why the whole argument suddenly feels stupid. The third boy lets out a breath and drops back into his seat first. “You two done then?” He huffs. The other two follow. One scrubs a hand over his face. “Sorry.” The other shakes his head. “Nah. Me too.” They all look up at me, with questions on their face. “So, uh, did you want the garlic bread for the table or no?” I say, quickly picking up the tray. “Oh, yeah, we’ll take the bread.” One of them says, and I nod and turn around. “What was that about?” Sophie asks when I get back behind the counter. I shrug, shaking my head, “Who knows. Too much testosterone, I think.” She laughs, and I go to check in on my other tables, but now my mind is elsewhere. *We can calm humans too?* I ask Shanti, and I feel her mentally preen. *We can do many things.*