Page 37 of Ice Queen

My leg bounces as I pull off the freeway and stop at a light. My hands trace over the stars on my thigh, covered by my jeans. I got this tattoo when I first moved here. A constellation of sorts. One star for where I was born, one for when I left Colorado, and another when I bought the bookstore. I promised my tattoo artist I’d come back and add more as life happened, not to me, but for me.

All the stars are creating a map of a life that always leads me home, wherever that is. And I think maybe I need a Little Bird Ranch star. Even if they don’t stick around forever, their kindness has done more for me than they will ever know. Their blind acceptance, the way Abby didn’t make fun of me when I asked to move tables. How Hannah came in and chose to sit in the store with me, prepared to keep herself entertained should it have gotten busy.

Even the way Markus noticed the small, quiet things that most miss had a layer of kindness to it. And for the first time in a long time, the thought that he noticed me doesn’t fill me with shame like it used to. When I thought about the Kaitlyn that Wyatt built, I hated that anyone “knew” her.

She was nothing more than a puppet, smile and wave. Have no opinion. Do what you’re told. Don’t have thoughts of your own. Be agreeable. Having a spine makes you look like an entitled prick.

My eyes roll as I come to a stop at a light. I may not be the version of myself I was before him, but I’m certainly not the terrified, helpless woman who begged Markus to hide me in a bar outside of Colorado Springs. Wyatt took enough from me. He can’t take this new season of life, too.

So here, at a stoplight in downtown Tampa, I decide I’m going to try not to sabotage these friendships out of fear. I’m going to let them happen, I’m going to let them grow, and I’m going to try my damn hardest not to overthink every interaction. I deserve good things.

* yes.

CHAPTER 13

Markus

I let Maggie set the pace today, which means we’re moving entirely too fast for a post-game morning. My legs are still heavy from last night, but she doesn’t care about that, and honestly, neither do I. Moving is better than the alternative.

The alternative being my own brain, which I have specifically asked to take the morning off.

It hasn’t.

By our third lap, I’ve mentally replayed the moment Kait recommended that book about the bodyguard at book club more than once. The one where the guy falls for the woman he’s protecting. I told myself it meant nothing twice. The second time was even less convincing than the first.

Maggie slows as we round the far end of the lake. Beautiful Pour comes into view, illuminated by the rising sun. A beacon calling me home to the land of caffeine. This is how we spend our mornings after home games. Coffee, pastelitos, let Maria talk about everything under the sun until my heart rate comes down. It’s simple, normal.

Maggie’s nose lifts, her tail wagging before she takes off, yanking the leash out of my hand.

“Maggie! Heel,” I yell.

She doesn’t, though. Her legs move with the intensity I only ever see when she’s chasing rabbits. Except there are no rabbits. The door to Beautiful Pour opens, and out steps the one person I didn’t want to run into this morning. Not after our back and forth over her car last week, what did she name it? Shirley? I didn’t mean to insult her, but my God, the car is one gust of wind away from falling apart completely.

Kaitlyn freezes when she sees me, coffee held tightly in her hand. My eyes scan the area, my brain once again refusing to take a break. I’d love to get to the point where I can do anything without looking around and planning for what could go wrong, before I even get in the door. But that’s a problem for another therapy session, I guess.

When I realize there’s no one else nearby other than my dog, whose tail is smacking happily against the sidewalk, I let myself take a breath.

Her chin slowly lifts the closer I get. “Well, if it isn’t the man who paid for a grand worth of my coffee.”

God, Maria can’t keep her mouth shut, can she? I push a hand through my hair, eyes darting over her face. The intensity in her eyes calls to me, pulling me in even as I try to keep my distance.

I slide my hands into the pockets of my running shorts, pinching the inner lining between my fingers. “My way of apologizing for being an ass the other day.”

She takes a sip, eyes never leaving mine as her other hand reaches out to rub Maggie’s ears. “A simple ‘I’m sorry’ would have worked just fine.”

I take a step, closing the distance between us, and Maggie presses in further to her leg, claiming her spot at Kaitlyn’s side.

“That’s true.” My eyes fall to the cup. Maria made her my favorite coffee. Iced café con leche. “Apologies don’t taste as good as coffee does, though.”

A corner of her mouth twitches before her gaze falls to Maggie. “So,” her tone casual, but still somehow cautious. “Do you make a habit of lurking outside coffee shops, or is this a special occasion?”

I huff out a quiet breath. “Special.”

Her brow arches when she looks back at me. “Ah, should I be flattered?”

“Undecided.” My hands flex by my sides.

My answer earns me a gentle scoff. Her weight shifts, thumb running across the lid of her cup, the other still playing with Maggie’s ear. She’s relaxed, but not fully. She’s alert, and her gaze sweeps the area every few seconds. Just like me.