Where The Ice Gives Way (Charlotte and Blake) novel Chapter 177

Where The Ice Gives Way

Chapter 177 All The Springy Rolls

Theo

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Be calm, silly human. Yelen growls through my head like he isn’t currently pressed so hard against my ribs that I can barely breathe. I try.

I really fucking try. But this is all a lot. What do I do with my hands? Do I put them in my pockets? No. I’ve done that too much. She’ll

notice. Do I sit on the chair? Would that make it look like I’m trying too hard to give her space? But I am trying to give her space. She

deserves space. She deserves a whole palace with doors that lock and windows full of sunflowers and me somewhere outside in the garden

being useful and quiet. Should I stand by the wall? No. Weird. Do I ask if she wants a shower? No. She can have a shower without me

announcing that showers exist. That would be insane. Food. Food is safe. Food is useful.

“So,” I say, trying very hard to sound normal. “You hungry?”

Emily is bent over her suitcase, pulling something folded and cream–coloured from the side pocket. She glances up at me, and her hair

slips over one shoulder.

“Starving, actually. I’m very thankful we had leftover pie in the car, or I may not have made it here.”

Our mate is starving. Dying. Protect. Feed. Yelen surges forward so quickly that I actually stumble two steps toward the desk. Now, who

needs to be calm? I snap back at him. He ignores me completely. I reach for the stack of takeaway brochures sitting beside the hotel phone

and spread them out on the little desk like this is now a military operation.

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“Alright. We’ve got options. Pizza. Chinese. Chinese. Another Chinese place. And fish and chips.”

Emily hums softly while pulling out a pair of pants that look ridiculously soft. So soft. I wonder what they feel like against my skin.

“Chinese,” she says.

Right. Chinese. Which Chinese? Why are there so many Chinese places? Who decided this tiny hotel needed three competing Chinese

empires within delivery distance? I am mentally unprepared for this level of responsibility.

Emily laughs quietly and steps closer, her shoulder almost brushing my arm as she looks over the brochures. She plucks the middle

brochure from the table. “This place is good. We had one near my old pack. They do something fancy with their spring rolls.”

Mate needs springy rolls. Get her all of them.

“Spring rolls. Got it.”

Emily leans over the brochure, pointing to a few things. “This chicken is nice. If it’s the same as the one we used to get. And the fried

rice. Oh, and these noodles.”

I nod, writing it into my brain like it’s scripture. Chicken. Fried rice. Noodles. Spring rolls. All spring rolls, according to Yelen, but I

suspect Emily would think I’m an oddball if I ordered more than twenty.

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15:13 Mon, Jul 13

Chapter 177 All The Springy Rolls

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“I’m just going to have a quick shower,” she says, picking up her clothes from the bed. My throat dries instantly. “Yep,” I say too quickly.

“Shower. Great. Good. I’ll order.”

She pauses near the bathroom door and looks back at me with soft amusement in her eyes. I want to walk into traffic. Then she

disappears into the bathroom, closes the door, and a second later, the shower starts.

The room becomes very small. Very warm. Very full of the knowledge that my mate is naked one paper–thin wall away from me. Naked.

Naked. Naked. Shit. I grab the phone and dial the restaurant. I get the spring rolls, chicken, fried rice, noodles, and dumplings because she

looked at those for half a second, and honey chicken because maybe she likes sweet things. Then I add extra spring rolls because Yelen is

threatening violence. Once the order is placed, I pace. Then I pace more. Then I stop by the window, before I pace again.

What else am I meant to do? Sit calmly while the shower runs and the steam builds and the scent of her soap slips under the door with

all those warm floral notes? I adjust myself for the millionth time and turn toward the little table. Food. Remote. Chairs. Normal things. I

straighten a pillow on the bed. I check the lock again. I turn the heater down a fraction because it’s getting too warm, then turn it back

up because she might be cold when she gets out. I pick up the remote, put it down, pick it up again, and then nearly drop it when the

water shuts off.

A knock sounds at the door. Thank fuck. Something to do with my hands. I scramble for my wallet, open the door, and take the bags from

the delivery guy with more gratitude than any man has ever shown another human being over noodles. I set everything on the little table

and start unpacking containers, arranging them in what I hope looks perfect.

Spring rolls closest to her chair. Rice in the middle. Noodles beside them. Sauces lined up. Napkins folded. Too much? Probably. Too late

now. The bathroom door opens, and Emily steps out with damp hair and soft pants and a loose jumper that slips slightly off one shoulder.

My entire brain goes silent.

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