Where The Ice Gives Way (Charlotte and Blake) novel Chapter 248

Chapter 248 Who Stepped on a Duck?

Jessica

“Oh, good morning, girls,” Mum chirps as Charlotte, Emily and I enter the kitchen.

It’s not unusual for her to be this perky in the morning.

Annoying, yes.

Unusual, no.

What is unusual is seeing her home at this hour, fully dressed but not in her work clothes, standing beside the bench with a mug in her hands and a sm

that looks too bright around the edges.

Dad is home too, sitting at the counter with one hand wrapped around a mug of coffee, also out of his work uniform, his hair still slightly damp from a

shower and his expression carefully calm.

“Good morning?” I say.

The coffee machine drips into the jug behind Mum, steady and sharp and way too fucking loud. Each drop hits glass with a tiny wet tick that somehow

crawls straight into the back of my eyes.

I wince and rub my temples with two fingers.

Emily slides past me toward the bench with a bright, “Morning, Mr and Mrs Hart,” and cuts the coffee machine off early.

Bless her.

She works with whatever sad amount is already in the jug and turns it into three small mugs, then passes one to Charlotte, one to me, and keeps one for

herself. Then she sits down beside my dad as if this is a perfectly normal morning.

I wrap both hands around my mug as I assess what is happening.

“Why aren’t you guys at work?” I ask.

Mum’s smile falters for half a second before she schools it back into place.

“We’re going to have a family breakfast,” she says.

I stare at her. Right. Normal.

“At the Atlases’,” she adds.

Г

11:15 am

ppp.

Chapter 248 Who Stepped on a Duck?

Dad sighs, placing his mug down and looking up at me with a frown. “Jessica.”

“No, don’t Jessica me.” I look between then, then at Charlotte, then Emily, who suddenly finds her coffee fascinating. “Why would we be having a ‘fami breakfast at Charlie’s house?”

Dad’s mug makes a terrible scraping sound as he drags it closer. “We have some things to discuss.”

“At someone else’s house?”

“Yes,” Dad says.

My headache pulses again, and I lift my coffee, but Mum reaches for my hands before I can even get a sip in.

She takes the cup from me and sets it beside hers.

I look down at my empty hands.

Then at the coffee I absolutely need if I am expected to survive whatever strange little breakfast we’re about to join.

“Mum.”

She takes my hands in hers, and her fingers feel colder than they usually do. Icy even.

“We met with Charlie last night,” she says.

I pull my hands from hers slowly, frowning as I take in that information. “You what?”

“He seems like a nice boy,” Mum says softly.

“A nice boy?” I repeat. “Okay, what the hell is going on?”

Charlotte comes to my side before Mum can answer, and her hand settles on my shoulder.

The second she touches me, something inside my chest eases, or my head, or I don’t know. It’s like everything quietens enough for me to think straight

I turn toward her without thinking and slide my arm around her waist, my body making the decision before my mind can. She looks at me with these soft green eyes, steady and sad and far too understanding for someone who is supposed to be just as confused as I am.

“Jess,” she says gently. “Some weird shit is about to go down.”

r

Emily nods from the counter. “Extremely weird shit.”

Chapter 248 Who Stepped on a Duck?

You should drink the coffee first.”

I pick up my mug and take a long sip while staring at all of them, over the tim. It is too hot and too bitter, but at least it gives my hands something t other than overthink things further

“Alright then,” I say at last. “Family breakfast at someone else’s house where we must discuss things that everyone apparently knows but me.”

Mum reaches for me again, then seems to think better of it and lets her hand drop. “Jess, sweetheart, I know this is strange.”

“Strange is when Dad farts and says someone stepped on a duck,” I say. This is something else.”

Emily snorts into her coffee. “My dad used to say that one too.”

Charlotte nudges me gently with her hip. “We should get changed.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, still looking at Mum. “You can borrow one of my uniforms if you want.”

Mum’s face tightens, and I hate that I can’t read whatever look just passed between my parents. “Don’t worry about school today.”

My eyes narrow further, but Charlotte is already nudging me toward the hallway before I can plant my feet and start demanding answers. “Come on.”

Charlotte keeps her hand on my back as she guides me out of the kitchen.

We dress mostly in silence.

Charlotte borrows one of my jumpers instead of a uniform, and I don’t bother arguing. If Mum says we’re not going to school, then whatever is happenin must be serious enough that the normal rules have fallen into a hole and died there.

I pull on jeans and a clean top, then stand in front of the mirror for a second/too long.

I look normal.

A little tired, maybe. A little pale. But normal enough.

So why does my skin feel too tight?

Why does my chest keep aching like something inside me is pressing both hands against my ribs, trying to get out?

When we head downstairs, Mum and Dad are already outside in their car.

Waiting.

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