Page 144 of Iced Up Love: Part Two
It’s not even the situation.
But I clock it anyway.
Store it.
Because that’s my sister, and I don’t miss things like that.
Zach slows slightly beside me as they both look up, their attention snapping toward us, and Evelyn’s face softens when she sees what we’re carrying.
“She’ll like that,” she says quietly, her eyes flicking over the blanket, the pillow, the things we grabbed without really thinking about it but somehow getting exactly right anyway.
Lucian nods toward the door. “Elijah’s in there.”
I follow his gaze briefly, something tightening in my chest again at the thought of him alone in there with her for hours, before I nod once.
Evelyn shifts slightly, like she’s been holding something back.
“Mark’s been asking questions,” she says, her voice more hesitant now, careful. “About why you both missed practice… and the game.”
My jaw tightens.
“I had to explain something,” she continues quickly. “Not everything, but enough that management doesn’t start coming after you.”
“I don’t care about hockey right now, Evie.”
The words come out sharper than I intend, but I don’t take them back.
I don’t have the space to soften them.
She exhales, shaking her head slightly, stepping closer.
“Don’t say that, Jackson,” she says, her voice quieter but firmer now. “Lia wouldn’t want that. She wouldn’t want you throwing everything away.”
Her gaze shifts to Zach.
“Both of you.”
Zach doesn’t hesitate.
“I’m not throwing anything away,” he says, calm but final. “I’ve already decided. I’m retiring at the end of the season.”
Evelyn’s expression tightens, something like frustration flashing through it before she looks back at me.
“You’re just starting,” she says, softer now but no less intense. “You can’t afford to lose this now.”
Something in me snaps.
“This is more important, Evie,” I bite out, the words rough, dragging something raw up with them. “She died in my fucking arms. I am not leaving her again.”
The words land heavy between us.
Too real.
Too close to the surface.
Lucian steps in before Evelyn can respond, his tone measured, controlled.
“If you’re willing to change agents,” he says, looking between the two of us, “I can work this out for you.”
