Page 54 of Breaking Point (IceHawks #1)

Bella

WHITEBOARD NOTE

Your brownies might be delicious but they’re not softening the blow of you avoiding me

Come on Blaze, don’t make me beg, show me that beautiful face of yours

I willingly kissed Grayson— again .

Willingly isn’t the right word, I was practically begging him to kiss me. I was like a damn cat in heat. Hence why I’m now mortified that I straddled my boss’s lap and stuck my tongue down his throat.

That is also the reason why it’s been three days since I’ve seen him. Does he deserve that after everything he’s done for my mom? Absolutely not. But I know the second I see him I’ll want to do it again.

And I can’t allow myself to get any closer.

So, I’ve been avoiding him.

Not completely. It’s hard to with Bambi now—bless her heart—but the moment Grayson gets home I find something to do or I suddenly remember an errand I need to run for him.

From the notes Grayson is leaving me on the whiteboard, he knows what I’m doing. He’s also upped his game by texting me adorable photos of Bambi, trying to lure me into the same room as them.

I’m not sure what the whiteboard has in store for me today because I’ve taken the morning off to go with Layla and her family to drop her off at the airport. I’ve been sitting in my car for the last thirty minutes waiting for them to arrive while forcing myself to not cry.

This is not about me or my feelings.

It’s about Layla today.

As my phone buzzes with an incoming text, it only further proves my point.

LAYLA

Beware, Momma Bear Carson hasn’t stopped crying

You and me both, Momma Bear Carson. You and me both.

I’m about to respond when another comes in.

LAYLA

Parked, heading to terminal three

No sooner do I read the words I’m jumping out of my car, grabbing the small backpack I prepared and rushing for the terminal, all the while biting the inside of my cheek to stop myself from crying.

I won’t be surprised if I draw blood.

It’s easy to spot the trio because they’re a large lump of limbs and bodies squished together, suffocating Layla in a large hug. I don’t hesitate to join.

Mrs. Carson hiccups as she lifts her arm and pulls me in face-to-face with Layla.

Now we’re both suffocating.

“Charlotte, dear, we have to let her go,” Tim, Mr. Carson, says gently.

Charlotte shakes her head, tears dripping down her cheeks. “I won’t see my baby for a year. Don’t rush me. ”

“It’s okay, Dad, I have a couple more minutes.”

Stepping out of the embrace, Mr. Carson joins me, giving Layla and her mom a moment. Mrs. Carson whispers in her ear, and whatever she says has tears springing into Layla’s icy blue eyes.

“She’ll be okay,” I whisper, not only for Mr. Carson but for myself.

A sad smile stretches across his lips. “It can only go up from here.”

I nod, knowing Tim’s signature saying. It’s the thing that got them through Layla’s medical journey.

I never have the heart to tell him I don’t agree.

Layla’s lower lip is wobbling by the time her mom finally lets her go. As our gazes lock over Mrs. Carson’s head, her hair the same fiery red as Layla’s, the pair of us burst into tears.

So much for not crying.

Rushing for her, we envelope each other in a hug.

“You need to call and text me every day!”

“Like I could go a day without talking to you.”

Clinging to her a little tighter, I whisper, “I mean it, Lil. I want to know everything, no sugarcoating anything.” I pause. “Not with me.”

I know she’ll make her parents believe that they didn’t waste their retirement. No matter what happens, she’s going to sing her praises about it. But I don’t want the watered-down version, I want it all. The good, the bad, and the ugly.

“I promise.”

Pulling back reluctantly, I shove the backpack between us. “Here, a little piece of home to take with you.”

Her eyes widen. “What did you do?”

I wave her off, indicating the bag again. “Just take it.”

Gingerly, she takes the backpack and slowly zips it open. She gasps, shaking her head in disbelief at what’s inside. “B…”

I shrug, feeling my cheeks heat at the warmth filling her eyes. “It’s just a pack of your favorites.” Clasping my hands behind my back, I mutter, “And a Kindle.”

I stuffed it full of all her favorites. Skincare masks, eye patches, candy and chocolate, as well as her most burned candle. Everything she usually gets as a spoiled treat is in there.

Along with the Kindle. Watching her try to choose which books to take, the sadness in her eyes, had my heart twisting painfully, and I knew she wouldn’t ask her parents for more money.

A new tear rolls down Layla’s cheek. “I-I don’t know what to say.”

Mrs. Carson steps forward, wrapping her arm around my shoulder, no doubt using me as a replacement for who she truly wants to hug and never let go of. “You say thank you,” she murmurs.

“Thank you isn’t enough, though.”

I wink. “You can repay me by calling every day.”

“Of course I will.” Layla lifts her head, the oversized lilac sweater swimming on her. “I’m going to miss you all.”

A squeak escapes Mrs. Carson and before she starts weeping, I jump in. “You’ll be home before you know it.”

Mrs. Carson bites her wobbling lower lip and nods, not able to speak without bursting into tears. It looks like it’s taking everything in her to control the tirade of emotions.

Because she can’t talk, I say, “Now, you’ve watched enough crime documentaries with my mom. You know what not to do?”

She rolls her eyes. “That’s the speech I don’t need. My anxiety is already through the roof about it.”

Mr. Carson wraps his arms around her. “Just be safe. You’re my baby girl, and I want you to come back in one piece.”

“I will, Dad.”

A sudden announcement comes over the speakers, urging passengers to get to their gate earlier than scheduled due to security delays.

Charlotte stiffens around me and I know it’s coming. The moment Layla has to walk away.

She’s getting the help that she deserves , I remind myself.

Layla lifts her gaze to me, then to her mom. “One last group hug?”

I can’t help it, and by the sound Charlotte makes, she can’t either. We rush her, bursting into tears and squeezing her a little too tightly.

After a moment, I think Layla realizes she will have to be the one to pull away because none of us can. “I should get going,” she whispers.

“Have you got everything you need?” Charlotte asks.

Layla dips her head. “You’ve prepared me well, Mom.” She looks at all of us before laughing. “I have no idea how to walk away so I’m just going to wave goodbye and turn around, no looking back.”

“No looking back,” we murmur in unison.

With a sad pathetic wave, Layla whispers, her voice cracking, “Bye, I’ll see you next year.” And with that my best friend turns, walking toward security.

But I don’t move. Neither do her parents. We all hold our breaths because we know her. And just as I think she really isn’t going to look back, she turns, her eyes filled with tears.

My hand flies into the air, waving frantically like a lunatic until I see her laugh, and then security is ushering her along and my best friend disappears from view.

The crushing weight of her loss hits me so swiftly I find it hard to breath.

“This is going to be hard,” I announce as I rub the ache in my chest.

“She’ll be back in no time,” Charlotte whispers, her cheeks wet from the tears rolling freely down them.

T he second I sat in the privacy of my car I broke down.

The tears never wavered, not for the entire forty-two-minute drive back to Grayson’s. I should have taken the day off, allowed myself to go home and wallow that my best friend, the only person who truly sees when I’m hurting, is gone for a year .

She has been there for me every single day since my mom got diagnosed. Before that we were inseparable too, but Layla was right all along. Once there are health issues, you truly see who your friends are and who they aren’t.

Layla learned that lesson the hard way.

But she’s been there for me, and now it’s my turn to be there for her through this journey.

I’m beyond grateful to not see Grayson’s car parked in the driveway. The past three days we’ve tried to make it so Bambi isn’t alone while she adjusts, but I take it he’s beginning the long process of making Bambi feel safe and secure while alone.

Yet as I step out of my car, wiping tears from under my eyes and hearing her pitiful howls coming from inside, I surmise it’s not going well.

I open the door to find her panting, her legs wet from sweat and her body shaking.

“Oh, darling,” I murmur, bending to comfort her.

Grayson talked me through what it would look like. He even went so far as to send me articles on how to help anxious dogs feel comfortable alone at home. It’s going to be a long and painful process for her to get adjusted, but it’s for her own good.

She needs confidence and independence.

Perhaps a sister or brother to keep her company, but I haven’t sprung that idea on Grayson just yet.

I walk with her into the living room to her water and food station and sit with her as she greedily gulps.

If I had to guess, she was too anxious to drink while we were both gone.

While she does so, I pull my phone from my pocket, finding a text from Grayson that came in while I was driving back from the airport.

GRAYSON

I’ve been called into a meeting with my coach. I had to leave Bambi but I’ve taken all the precautions

just wanted to give you a heads-up. She’ll be anxious when you get back but she should settle once you arrive

you can also turn off the dog camera I set up in the living room if you’re uncomfortable

Don’t want you to see it and think I’m spying

“He thinks of everything,” I whisper as I spot the dog camera set up on the TV cabinet, overlooking the kitchen and living room.

My hand is heavy as I lift it to pat Bambi as she wanders over and flops next to me.

Bambi and I have more in common than I thought. My entire body feels heavy and suddenly I don’t want to do anything.

I don’t want to move from my spot on the floor.

I don’t want to get up and turn the camera off.

I don’t want to work.

I want to crawl into my bed and cry.

But I can’t do that.

Bambi lays her head on my lap, her tongue lolling to the side as she continues to pant. Instead of focusing on myself, I focus on her. She needs to run off this anxious energy, get it all out of her system.

Groaning, I pull myself up, forcing myself to take one step after the other. I move toward the sliding glass doors, only to come to a screeching halt.

Sitting on the kitchen bench are numerous drawing pads. Along with pencils, paint, and a canvas.

I’ve forgotten how to breathe. Suddenly, my chest is tight and my eyes are stinging as tears want to make their way to the surface once more.

I’m surprised to see my hands are shaking as I step toward the kitchen, my chest heaving as my lungs finally demand a breath.

A note is siting against the supplies, written in Grayson’s messy scrawl.

I thought you might need this today.

The tears I was holding at bay fall, sliding down my cheeks at the sincere gesture and thoughtfulness. I flip the note over, and the tears change from rolling to downright flowing as I find another scribble of his handwriting.

You’re not alone, Blaze.