Break the Ice

by Piper Rayne

“Where’s Beckett?” Zoe asks.

  Shit. Skylar left the door open. I search for anything to throw over myself. The towels are too far away and unless I want to yank the flowery shower curtain that Mrs. Walsh told me she hand made when the kids were younger—long and boring story—I’m shit outta luck.

  Using my good arm, I push up on the tub, grunting as I struggle to gain my footing.

  “He’s upstairs. He’ll be down in a second.”

  The footsteps blazing a trail up the stairs are as fast as my heart beats. I use all my arm strength to shut the door.

  “No!” Molly screams on the other side of the door.

  “You two sit. Uncle Beckett will be down in a second,” Skylar says, obviously having followed them upstairs.

  I let out a relieved breath, slowing my movements so I don’t break a leg or my other arm.

  I can hear Skylar and Zoe yammering on and on about the Classics and their parents being in Arizona and how the parents of Zoe’s husband, Vin, insisted she bring over some rumaki.

  I always did love Zoe’s in-laws.

  The sound of foil opening has my ears pricking because those two little piglets are going to eat all the delicious water chestnuts wrapped in bacon. My stomach growls. This is the best part of the Classics being over. I can eat whatever I want.

  My steps over to the towel rack become more urgent since I know that by the time I dry off and get dressed with the use of one arm, the rumaki will be gone.

  I reach toward the towel rack with my good arm while I’m standing in the tub and the small embroidered towel falls to the ground. I should’ve asked Skylar to bring my towel closer. Finally, with both feet out, I inhale another breath and set my gaze to the towel, mentally prepping to retrieve it.

  Hell, maybe I’ll go downstairs in a towel, steal some rumaki, and then get dressed.

  Grabbing the towel, I realize I have to get dressed first because without the use of my other hand, I can’t wrap it around myself. Motherfucker.

  I take the corner of the towel, letting it hang open, rumaki at the forefront of my mind as I look down and try to figure out a way to swing the towel around my waist and somehow catch it with my good hand.

  “AHHHHH!” a piercing scream echoes through the small space.

  My head whips up and my gaze flies to the open door. Four-year-old Molly is standing there wide-eyed and staring at my junk.

  Fuck!

  I hurriedly place the towel over me, scrunched up with one fist but covering all the important parts.

  Caiden crawls like an army guy behind her up the stairs.

  “Molly?” Zoe’s panicked voice rings throughout the house.

  “I’ll be right out.” I shut the door, my heart hammering in my chest with an unnatural rhythm, my breath hiccupping from the adrenaline of a little girl seeing me stark naked.

  Four footsteps stomp upstairs. “Molly, I told you to stay downstairs.”

  “Sorry, Mommy, I wanted to surprise Uncle Beckett.”

  My back slumps against the door.

  “Next time listen to me, okay? You probably scared Uncle Beckett.” Zoe’s voice is ten decimals calmer now.

  “Mommy,” Molly says. “Did you know that Uncle Beckett’s penis is way bigger than Caiden’s?”

  You could hear a pin drop in that hallway.

  “We talked about this, Molly. Boys have penises and girls have vaginas. And size doesn’t matter anyway, sweetie.”

  “Yeah,” Caiden says all smug.

  “Since when?” Skylar asks and snickers.

  I can imagine her sister shooting her a death glare. A second later, I hear Caiden squealing and telling his auntie to swing him around again.

  “I know, but it was kind of scary looking.”

  Skylar and Zoe bust out laughing and I close my eyes shaking my head. I’m never going to live this down.

  Chapter Three

  I head downstairs, dressed in track pants and a t-shirt. At least I’ve mastered the art of putting my injured arm in first and tossing it over my head. I guess I’m more limber than I thought.

  The house is silent, and I suspect Molly and Caiden are downstairs, Molly probably giving her brother a complex at his young age since it’s practically Darwinian for boys to want everything big.

  Rounding the bottom of the staircase in Skylar’s parents’ home, I spot the sisters at the table, picking up the rumaki and laughing over what just happened.

  How do I ever look Molly in the eyes again?

  “Thanks for that, Zoe.” I grab a soda out of the fridge and join them at the table, pulling the aluminum pan full of rumaki in front of me.

  “Well, if I’d known you were giving away peep shows, I’d have strapped her to the chair to keep her down here.” Zoe props one foot up on the chair, swinging her long brunette hair around to one side.

  It’s apparent the two are sisters on the outside, but Zoe is more aggressive than Sky. Maybe it’s a momma bear thing, but I always feel like I teeter on the edge of whether or not she’ll go off on me.

  “If I’d known I was giving away peep shows, I would’ve made sure the spectators were old enough to vote.”

  “She’ll forget it by tonight.” She waves me off, leaning over the table and stealing a rumaki.

  “Long enough for Vin to kick my ass.”

  She laughs. “Nah, he’ll understand. Molly doesn’t get privacy. Vin just moves faster than you.”

  Sky rolls her eyes, using a toothpick to grab another rumaki.

  I cover it with my hands. “These are mine. Made for me.”

  “Well, until Mrs. Shapiro finds out you flashed her granddaughter.” Zoe’s eyebrows shoot up.

  I push the pan back into the middle of the table. “I’m eating too much anyway.”

  They each waste no time continuing to consume all the food.

  “Mommy.” Molly stops in her tracks when she sees me at the table.

  Zoe’s eyes shift to me and then back to her daughter. “It’s okay, Molly. Uncle Beckett has pants on.”

  Skylar throws a toothpick at her sister. “Come here, my favorite niece.” She opens her arms wide.

  “I’m your only niece,” Molly deadpans, too smart for her own good.

  Molly slides up on her aunt’s lap anyway, sure to avoid making eye contact with me.

  “Why don’t we apologize to Uncle Beckett for walking in on him,” Skylar whispers loud enough that we can all hear.

  Molly peeks up through the long dark eyelashes she inherited from her mother.

  I smile and roll my eyes.

  She giggles.

  “I’m sorry,” she says, her voice soft and low.

  I pick up a piece of the rumaki with a toothpick and hold it out to her.

  “But Nana made them for you.” She’s yet to pick up her head.

  I look around at the pile of toothpicks in front of Skylar and Zoe. “For you, I’ll always share.” I wink. She takes it from my hand, biting conservatively at first. “How about you do a drawing on my bandages?”

  Her eyes widen, popping the entire bacon wrapped water chestnut into her mouth and running out of the room to their designated play area when they’re here.

  “Chew, Molly,” Zoe screams after her daughter.

  A minute later Molly returns, her cheeks still puffed out with the food, but she’s got her markers, sliding into the chair next to me. “Let me see it.”

  I remove the sling carefully and hold out my arm and she uses it as her own personal canvas while we eat rumaki.

  And as quick as that, the whole bathroom incident is forgotten.

  * * *

  “Will you stop putting crap in the cart.” Skylar picks up the pack of Oreos and puts them back on the shelf.

  “You’re being a killjoy.” I toss in some Chips Ahoy anyway.

  “Hey, Mr. Silver Medalist, you may be able to sit your ass on the couch for a few months, but the rest of us have to keep in shape.”

  I stop, turning around, stopping
the cart with my good hand. She falters back, her eyes wide in surprise.

  “So, no grad school?” I ask.

  Her shoulders slump and she shakes her head a few times. “I haven’t decided yet, but if I want to continue to ski, Chips Ahoys aren’t going to help me spin in the air.” She plucks them out of the cart and puts them on the shelf.

  “You have four years, Sky.”

  She moves me out of the way with her shoulder and pushes the cart in front of me, leaving me in aisle three. “You and I both know that isn’t true.”

  Reluctantly I follow her and our cart of fruit, veggies, and wheat grain items. “Can we have one cheat day?” I whine like a four-year-old asking for Halloween candy.

  Looking more at what’s on the shelves than in front of me, I run smack dab into her back. “Shit, Sky.”

  She starts walking backward and I trip over my own heels to back-up. I didn’t think my argument to buy the cookies was that sound, but okay...

  “Go, go, go.” Her voice is low and rushed.

  We end up back in the temptation aisle of cookies and everything I shouldn’t eat, and she ditches the cart and starts walking the other way.

  “Sky?” I question.

  She circles back, gives me a death stare, places her finger over her lips and waves me to follow.

  Instead, I peer out into the main aisle running across the back of the store to see what has her spooked. I’m not sure what I thought I’d find, but it sure wasn’t a well-built guy picking out which package of steak to buy. Other than the fact that he prefers an artery clogging meat to a leaner cut, he seems harmless.

  Skylar is already at the other end of the aisle, her foot tapping, her arms crossed.

  I throw my hands up in a what the fuck’s the matter?

  She waves frantically like there’s a crack splitting in the earth between us and I have two seconds to jump before I’m swallowed up.

  Walking slowly over to her, it looks like she’s about to run out when I grasp her elbow to stop her. “What’s the problem?”

  She whips around so fast her ponytail nails me across the eyes. I blink a few times, the sting slowly fading.

  Her eyes do a sweep of the immediate area and she leans in. “It’s my ex-boyfriend.”

  I scoff. Standing taller and wishing I didn’t have this damn cast on decorated with Mollys’s rainbows and shit.

  “Ben?” I ask.

  I know his name. He screwed her up. Just like Summer did to me.

  She bites down on her lip and nods.

  Never in my life have I seen Skylar run from anything. Well...that’s not entirely true. She’s running from skiing right now if she was honest with herself.

  The skiing part I understand. Her ego is bruised. She’s letting herself feel down about it, when in reality, bronze is still an amazing accomplishment. But this—an ex? The ex that screwed her over by kissing her best friend at a party? We’re not running away from this.

  I pull on her elbow, but her feet are planted on the ground as if she’s grown roots. I may be disadvantaged with one arm, but I’m stronger than her.

  “You’re not going to let that douche stop you from grocery shopping.”

  She nods, and her eyes say yes, yes, I am.

  I shake my head. “No. No, you’re not.” I link my good hand in hers, leading us back to the cart.

  I peer over the tall grocery shelf. Ben is still there. Seriously, how long does it take to pick out a steak? Skylar dodged a bullet with this one if you ask me. Coming back, I stare into her fearful eyes. Why is she scared? She should be standing up to him and saying I’m a fucking Winter Classics medalist, what do you do? Other than getting your jollies from staring at red meat for ten minutes.

  “We’re going to shop, and if we run into him so be it. I can handle it if you’d like.” I place her hands on the cart to give them something else to do instead of clenching and unclenching at her side.

  In my mind, I thought we’d have a few aisles for her to calm down or maybe he’d leave, and he’d never know we were there. Ideally, the latter would have been the best option. Sometimes in life, things don’t always work like that. Nope, we step out of the aisle, rounding the corner to head into the next row and the bastard finally puts a steak in his basket and looks up.

  His face transforms in three different emotions in a matter of seconds. Surprise first, along with a smile. Then a frown, probably remembering what he did to Skylar. Lastly, a soft smile that says it’s nice to see her.

  I’d chop him up and put him for sale in cellophane packages if I could.

  Chapter Four

  “Skylar?” Ben approaches and she swallows hard, plastering a smile on her pale face.

  “Ben.” She bites out his name, but there’s still a tinge of affection in her tone that annoys me.

  If I saw Summer, I’d stroll right by her without a word. Sky’s different though. She might be balls to the wall protective of her friends, but when it comes to her own self, she’s not as outspoken.

  He places his basket down and my stomach lurches knowing exactly where his arms intend on going—around her. He holds her to him for longer than necessary—at least in my opinion when you’re the prick who screwed over the woman in front of you.

  Sky looks at me with widened eyes when she pulls away.

  Guess we should have ditched the cart. My bad.

  “You look great. Did you just get back? We watched you on television. I still have no idea how you do what you do.” His face reddens and glances my way. “Sorry.” He holds his hand out. “Ben Crabtree.”

  “Beckett Myers.” I shake his hand, stopping myself from spouting out the millions of jokes running through my brain over his name.

  He snaps his fingers and points to me. “You’re a skier, too, right?”

  “Snowboarder,” I correct.

  He nods and shrugs like they’re the same thing. I’d like to sit him down and explain the difference, but the conversation moves quickly back and forth between the two of them with me clearly on the outside.

  “The whole city is abuzz about you. Your whole family went to the Classics, right?” Ben’s voice hangs on that upper octave that’s annoying as shit.

  Skylar’s cheeks pink. Why the fuck is she blushing? This guy is no reason to blush. “Well, my parents did, then headed straight to Arizona for the rest of winter and...” she eyes my way, making Ben follow. “I’m taking care of Beckett until he’s healed.”

  I lift my arm.

  “Oh, did you get that while competing?” he asks and, in this moment, I wish I had. It’d be so much more badass if I could say I fell during a trick. Saying I slipped on ice makes me sound like an eighty-two-year-old who broke his hip.

  “No,” I answer curtly.

  He nods, unfazed and looks back to Skylar. “We should totally catch up. What are your plans?”

  Did he not catch the part where she’s taking care of me? How does he know I’m not her boyfriend?

  “Um, yeah, you still have my number?”

  The dip wad pulls out his phone, scrolling through his contacts. His eyes light up and he shows her his screen. Doesn’t say much for the guy if he’s holding onto a girl’s number from six years ago.

  I busy myself looking at the food at the end of the aisle, picking up boxes and reading the labels. Like I’m worried about calorie content and preservatives.

  “Great, Beth and I would love to have you over. Of course, she’s about to pop, so, maybe we should go out where someone else can serve us.”

  I glance over to Skylar. Her face has lost some of its earlier luster after seeing he still had her number. She hides it well, but I know her better. Her smile teeters on creepy more than genuine.

  “Great. Give me a call.” Skylar’s phone dings and she moves to her pocket, probably looking for any distraction she can get.

  “Now you’ve got mine.” Dear Ben leans in closer. “Let’s keep that between us. You know Beth.”

  The corner of S
kylar’s lips lift for a half second before they go creepy again.

  “Well, I better get going. Beth is waiting at home and had a craving for steak.” He lifts his basket in the air, like either of us gives a shit about what his pregnant wife wants.

  “See you around, Ben,” she says.

  He reaches in for another awkward hug, Skylar patting him on the back like he’s the overzealous uncle everyone avoids.

  “Oh, yeah, congratulations on the bronze. At least you medaled, right?”

  He’s shittin’ me, right?

  I step forward to follow the bastard, but Skylar grabs my good arm, squeezing until I stop trying to chase the asshole from the store.

  “You’re going to let that stupid fuck get away with that?”

  I’m not even sure why I’m so angry. I’m the guy that nothing really bothers. But this guy grated on every easygoing nerve I’ve got in my body. To end it like that, like bronze is a participation ribbon his damn kid will be getting in a couple of years. What has he done? Other than messing around with her best friend behind her back.

  “Is that the Beth he was referring to?” I ask.

  Skylar nods, pushing the cart down the aisle, grabbing the Oreos from the end cap. I say nothing because I want them and because if it makes her feel better her complaints afterward will be worth it.

  She’s silent down the next two aisles, letting me put chips, sugar cereals, and candy into the cart. No lectures, no putting them back on the shelf.

  Finally, when we get to the refrigerated section and she’s staring into the case of milk, she asks me, “Have you ever thought we’re wasting our lives?”

  She opens the door and I reach into the cooler, grabbing a gallon of milk with my good hand.

  “We’re living our dream.”

  “At the sacrifice of everything else.”

  “Is this because the dipshits are having a baby?” I grab a carton of cookie dough ice cream. She’ll thank me later.

  She shrugs. “I just...it’s stupid. Forget it.”

  I grab the front of the cart, not letting her move forward. “Sky, you gotta let the bronze thing go. It’s eating you alive.”