“Yes, Jace,” she says with a deep breath between the words. “Because I know I’m safe with you.”
The trust she’s placed in me nearly wipes me out. But she’s right to believe that I’d do anything to cover and protect her. Anything in my power.
“You are.” I pull her against me even tighter and allow myself to breathe deeply, attempting to convince myself that I have what it takes not to let her down. “Count us off, Starlight.”
She laughs. “One, two, go!”
And it’s Ivy’s laughter mixed with my own as we fly through the air off the slope that brings me closer than ever to believing that brokenness and loss might not be the end of our story after all.
Chapter Sixteen
Ivy
The clock strikes three.
“Ivy, dear friend,” Sparrow greets me with a smile from behind the register. She moves toward the high-top area of the counter and, leaning forward on her elbows, rests there with her hands casually looped together. A green satin ribbon holds her hair back today, a nod to the Christmas season, no doubt. Her eyes shine in a way that I believe only happens when one is in love. My eyes catch on the simple wedding band on her left hand, the one she wears when she’s at the bakery so that she doesn’t get her diamond engagement ring ruined with croissant dough. Though, she often declares that croissants hold a bit of magic for her and Rafe. Seeing as how they’re both of French heritage within their family trees, I wouldn’t doubt it.
“Hi, Rory.” I grin back, using her nickname, grateful to be in her calming presence and let the smell of ground coffee and toasted sugar ease my soul for a bit. The sight of my friend and the sound of jazz music in the form of current Christmas songs bring the first real, full smile to my face all day. Today, Jace was at rehearsal again, assembling things—always assembling things. He was getting organized to help the teenagers he’ll be working with later. I’ve almost lost track of what I asked himto create due to how distracting he is. And my head is now pounding.
The thrill of being near him so often lately has gotten to be a bit much. There’s something Jace is still not telling me, and I can’t even begin to imagine what it could be. Maybe he has reservations because of his ex. Maybe he has reservations about how he really feels about me. Maybe he’s changed his mind about getting to know me, though he was the one who proposed the Christmas countdown. He didn’t seem to have any regrets yesterday when we went sledding, finishing off the afternoon with the wind brushing against my face and his warm breath near my ear. When we landed at the bottom of the hill, he pressed his cheek gently against my own and then helped me rise.
Later, when I slid into bed, I found a message from him on my phone. We texted for a bit, but it was only about what time to meet for today’s assembly projects and our goal for the timeline. And then, at rehearsal earlier, he was reserved. I’m not sure what to make of it. I’ve explored relationships before where the man is emotionally unavailable, and this doesn’t feel like those. His eyes betray his inner turmoil. There’s something holding him back from allowing himself to connect fully, and I just hope he has the strength to push through to the other side and give us a solid chance.
“Your special hot chocolate today?” Sparrow’s voice cuts through my thoughts as I approach the counter. Her voice is a bit melodic, not nearly as raspy as mine, but I hear the emotion through it. I’ve barely visited Sparrow and Lily the past couple of weeks. My mind feels preoccupied, my heart too full to prioritize socializing. And now, she’s worried about me. I’m worried about myself. And when I settle myself on the stool across from her and look up, the line between her furrowed brow proves it.
Nodding slightly, I expect Sparrow to walk away and make it herself. But one of her hands covers mine, and she politely asks Anna, one of the bakery assistants here, to make it instead, quietly giving instructions. Sparrow’s eyes return to mine as she scans my face, clearly looking for any and every clue of what’s really going on in my life. With the rush of the season upon us, the bakery will be open later than usual, and I took advantage of the opportunity to see my longtime friends this afternoon.
“I’m okay,” I mutter in response to her unspoken question.
She squints, and a myriad of emotions cross her face, a frown meeting eyes that hold both worry and amusement.
“Hmm,” she hums, pointing toward the door. “If I marched myself over to Marlee’s Books and asked Grey how she finds your present state, you’re telling me she would also say you’re doing okay?”
My head drops slightly. She’s got me, and she knows it. While Sparrow, Lily, Grey, and I have always been close, circumstances have made it so that Grey is closest to me, just as Lily is closest to Sparrow. The four of us will always love each other and be there for each other, but sometimes, life has a way of forcing a proximity of friendship that ingrains itself into your very being.
“She might?” I reply to her.
I wince as Anna saves me from more blatant questioning by presenting the most delectable-looking hot chocolate. She picks up a sanitizing rag and moves onto the floor to begin clearing tables. Sparrow’s and Lily’s use of real melted chocolate as the base, with no powder allowed, shows in the quality and taste. The sparrow painted on the edge of the ceramic cup and plate feels like a warm, familiar hug.
I take my first sip as Sparrow gives me the proper moment of silence this treat has earned. Releasing a relieved sigh and allowing the warm chocolate to align my thoughts, I wrap myhands around the cup and look at my friend. “I don’t know why I wandered in here,” I admit.
“You can always wander in here.”
I nod, emotion starting to build behind my eyes.
“Oh, for the love of croissants!” A yell from the back of the kitchen causes both of us to jump, even though we know the cause of the disturbance.
“And there she is . . .” Sparrow mutters.
The door to the kitchen swings open, revealing Lily. She’s covered in chocolate up to her forearms, her baby bump rounding out the front of her apron. From the line of chocolate across it, I’d say she’s been leaning against the counter while tempering chocolate again.
“Problem?” Sparrow grins. She doesn’t leave my side, amusement etched across her face.
“This little cruffin,” she starts, pointing to her stomach in case we aren’t aware that she is referring to her unborn child (we are), as a drop of chocolate drips to the floor, “he or she—because we all know Graham is so old-fashioned that he wants to be surprised, and Lord knows I love him too much to fight him on it—will not stop kicking when I make chocolate cake!” Her eyes are a bit wild, her blonde ponytail extra high on her head today.
I cover my mouth with my hand to keep from laughing. It’s still hard for me to process that Lily is five months pregnant with her and Graham’s first child. It still feels like we should be planning our next group sleepover and avoiding gym class. As feisty as she can be, Lily being the first one of us to get pregnant suits her. And as much as she’s vocal about everything relating to this new development in her life, she’s the biggest softie. Her eyes hold a sheen every time Graham puts his hand on her stomach or talks about their baby.
“Lils, since a great part of your love story has revolved around chocolate cake, I would think that your baby’s reaction makes perfect sense,” Sparrow says reasonably.
