Etched in Frost

22. Jolie

22

JOLIE

M y heels clack along the pavement, and each time I put my weight on the ball of my foot, my blistered toes rub against the shoes, aggravating the pain shooting down my leg. My physical therapist would scold me if she saw me right now. I’ll really be feeling this tomorrow when I hustle to the studio for another long day.

At least the strappy nude pumps complement the mesh base layer of my ensemble for the preview showcase and the gala following. The navy damask along the fitted mermaid cut hugs my curves in all the right places, its layered train currently clutched in my grasp as I rush toward the theater’s glow.

I’d been waiting for Delilah to get home so we could head over together, but she texted to tell me that she’d been pulled into a conference call last minute. Now we are meeting at the theater.

I haul ass and pray my curls stay pinned up. My makeup setting spray better work the miracles it promises. Otherwise, I’m going to be sweating down streaks of foundation and rocking raccoon eyes.

This was not how I imagined tonight going. I was supposed to be having my first official date with Blake, but I haven’t heard from him since our wolfy interruption. Is he still planning on seeing me after the performance? I’ve been looking forward to finally going out with him, but if I’m being honest with myself, my mind keeps wandering to if I’ll see Jax when I get home. Regardless of whether or not our date’s happening, I need to talk to Blake. I’m not sure what I’ll say, but I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.

I texted Blake earlier wishing him an amazing showcase. There was no response, but it’s normal to be busy when rehearsals and performances are kicking off.

The illuminated entrance comes into view, and I slow my pace, shaking off my stress. I lift my chin to channel my inner prima ballerina. The picture of poise and grace. I’ll be surrounded by the Institute’s patrons and biggest supporters, along with columnists who pride themselves in being career makers or breakers. Even though I’m not with the Institute any longer, I want to present my most elegant self to everyone I meet tonight. It’s not just about my own career, it’s also about Blake’s. If we go public with our relationship, it will draw attention to us both from the company, my old instructors, and the patrons. It’s already strange coming here after not being invited back this season—I don’t need to add anything else that they can gossip about.

As promised, I make my way toward the back entrance to visit with Lark and wish her luck before the show, our signature pre-performance snack tucked in my purse. Gummy Peach O’s—the perfect sugar kick to stave off the nerves.

Luckily, the stagehands recognize me, giving kind smiles as I pass them, a few exchanging quick pleasantries. I don’t linger long, though, the curtain will be going up soon and everyone is focused on final preparations.

Passing Blake’s dressing room on my way to the one Lark shares with our friend Sarina, I almost consider stopping by but think better of it. A few low grunts filter from under the door. He’s probably busy wrestling with his tights or makeup. Besides, right now isn’t the time to try to explain away Jax’s supernatural interruption. I’ll save that conversation for our date.

Knocking on Lark’s door, I pull the little plastic baggie of candy out of my clutch, my lips peeling into a grin. She’s being featured as one of the main swans in this production, something we’d always talked about doing together. I might not be by her side tonight, but I’ll be cheering her on from the audience.

The door swings open, and Lark immediately lights up when she sees what I’ve brought. “You remembered!”

“Of course. Wouldn’t be a show without them.” I hand her the bag.

She tears open the zipper seal and shoves two rings in her mouth, one of them hanging over her lips as she gushes, “Mmm! So fucking good. You’re a lifesaver, Jojo.”

Lark hands me a few, which I dutifully enjoy. Sarina peers over her shoulder, eyes going wide at the treat.

“Want one?” Lark pulls out another one and holds it up for her.

“Hells yes!” Sarina snatches a Peach-O and scarfs it down. I’m not sure she even chews it first, it’s gone so quickly.

“Wanna come in for a minute? We have to be at curtain call in five, but you’re welcome to chill here,” Lark offers, stepping back and holding the door open for me.

“Oh, that won’t be necessary. I want to get back so I can get situated in my seat. There was a big line to get into the building.” I give them each a quick hug. “Merde.”

“Merde,” they reply in unison before Lark plants a pink-lipstick kiss on my cheek.

You never say good luck. And “break a leg” is reserved for friends and family when they want to give you well wishes, but merde— shit in French—is saved for fellow performers.

“It’s going to be a great one,” I reassure them.

“I hope so.” Sarina crosses her fingers while she reaches for another Peach-O.

I start to walk back toward the stairway when Blake’s door opens. His lips are smudged with pink lipstick, matching Nina’s, who’s flushed, gaze lingering behind her as she readjusts the bodice of her tutu. When she notices me, she sticks her nose up, tone full of annoyance. “Oh, hey. Didn’t realize you’d be coming tonight.”

“Guess I’m just full of surprises.” My attention’s burning holes into Blake’s guilty-ass face.

Nina heads off, leaving Blake and I staring at each other.

“We were just going over a few things before tonight,” Blake says before clearing his throat. “You know, pre-performance jitters.” His hand rests not so casually over the center of his tights, failing to hide the bulge there. The one he was probably using moments ago to work out his nerves. With Nina.

My chest and face heat, boiling below the surface. I’d love to drive my heel into his balls. I try to take a calming breath, collect myself. There’re enough rumors surrounding the past year of my life, the last thing I need to do is make a scene. As he opens his mouth, ready to make another sorry excuse, my palm cracks against his face.

Shit.

Blake clutches his jaw, clearly appalled. He steps back and looks in his mirror at the fingerprints imprinted across his cheek, then snaps, “What the hell, Jolie?”

Other dancers exit their dressing rooms, heading toward the stage, some of them stopping in place, glancing between the two of us.

I force my feet in the direction of the stairs, hearing the patter of pointe shoes against the concrete as Lark catches up to me and turns me by my shoulder. “I had no idea they were together, but he’s an asshole.”

“Not arguing with you on that one.” My chest heaves, and I slow my breaths, trying to steady the simmering beneath my skin and the vibrancy of my pulse. My hand throbs like a bitch. I clutch it with my other one.

Who knew smacking someone hurt so much?

“If you want to cut out, I understand.”

“No way.” I wrap my arms around her and whisper in her ear. “I wouldn’t miss you dancing for the world. He’s not going to ruin my night.”

“You sure?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Beth applying makeup to the asshole’s face. The show must go on, I suppose. He doesn’t look in my direction, doesn’t care that I caught him. Meanwhile, a few grimaces from former colleagues have me flush with embarrassment.

“Yes. Now get yourself ready. Eat a few more O’s for me and get to curtain call.” I give Lark a swift peck on the cheek and nudge her back toward the dressing room. Pivoting away from her, I walk to the staircase as quickly as my heels will allow.

My mind spins over and over on what I just saw. I’m so foolish for thinking there was something real between Blake and me. The signs were there. Never staying the night. Never taking me anywhere in public. How was he even planning to handle things tonight? Hook up with Nina before the show and then meet up with me afterward?

Being slapped with the reality of how little I meant to him should sting more than my hand does. It hurts, but what is most painful is how much it doesn’t. What hurts is that I hoisted him up on a pedestal, believing he saw me. Wanted me. Thinking he viewed me as some sort of prize. This was all a game to him, and I was desperate enough to let him play me.

I shouldn’t be okay right now. I should feel like I’ve lost something. But other than regretting wasting years on him and hoping he’ll trip over a swan tonight, I feel an odd sense of relief. I don’t have to deal with him ever again. Not if I don’t want to. I’m no longer at the Institute, and he obviously has someone else there who’s happy to stroke his fragile ego.

Pulse racing, my fingers shake against the railing, still sore from meeting Blake’s stupidly handsome face. I try to steady myself before heading into the lobby. A handful of patrons I recognize flash me pleasant smiles that I return. I even manage to make small talk with a few, though I can’t recall what we discuss as soon as I exit the conversation. I’m moving with singular purpose in the direction of the ticket takers, fingers slipping into my purse to grab the ticket Lark had left for me on the counter.

“Jolie,” a familiar voice calls from behind me. Delilah sprints toward me, wearing a pair of fitted black trousers and an oversized matching blazer. Her forehead is creased, lips pressed in a line. Lark must have texted her. “You okay?”

“No,” I say, handing off my ticket before going through the turnstile. I shiver, clutching my coat around myself as I wait for Delilah to come through. Taking a few calming breaths, I savor the air filling my lungs. Once she’s next to me and we enter the theater, I lean in and whisper, “But I will be.”

“If you want, Lark will slip some laxatives in his water before opening night.”

I can’t stifle my laugh, and Delilah throws an arm around me, gesturing toward our row. She follows behind me, and we sit down.

“Think everyone here knows I slapped him?”

“Probably,” she teases. “But I’m sure some of them are sad they didn’t do it first.”

As the lights dim and the curtain rises, she leans over and whispers, “The right person is out there.”

Delilah is right. When I allow myself to think about the possibility of who that someone for me could be, only one person comes to mind.

Jax came when I needed him. And while nothing has happened between us, the brief time we’ve spent together has been much more intimate than the years of Blake falling into my bed.

But it doesn’t excuse what Blake’s done. Not by a long shot.

I glare daggers at him the entire time he dances. It’s annoyingly in sync with Nina. While he doesn’t trip over any swans, I get some satisfaction when I notice my dainty handprint is still visible when the spotlight hits him at certain angles. Guess he’ll need to invest in some better performance makeup.

While I’m not heartbroken over tonight’s revelation, I’m angry. However, it’s more at myself than him. I convinced myself that we weren’t together publicly because we were so passionate about our careers. I believed Blake saw me when he really just loved the way I doted on him. I was grateful for his parceled affection, but he didn’t actually care about me.

I hate what he did, but I hate that I allowed myself to be something for him he would never be for me. He doesn’t deserve me. He never did.

As soon as Lark emerges from the wings, I break out in a smile for the first time tonight. She’s stunning, an ethereal swan moving across the lake with poised precision. My attention flits to Delilah. She stares at my best friend like she’s the most magnificent person in the room. And to Delilah, Lark is.

I want that .

I hold back tears the rest of the show.

Once it’s over, I nearly dash out of the theater, Delilah on my heels. “Jolie, you want us to get you home once she comes out?”

“That’s okay, Lark should stay and celebrate.”

“You’re more important to her than celebrating,” Delilah tuts.

“I know. Which is why I need you to stay and keep her here. Tonight is too big of an opportunity for her to waste. I’ll metro back.”

“At least call an Uber,” she insists, typing into her phone. A minute later, I get a notification that she’s sent me money. “Share the trip details with us and text us when you get home.”

“Thanks,” I say, voice a bit wobbly. I’ve never been more glad that Lark has Delilah than I am in this moment.

Giving her a quick hug goodbye, I scoop up my skirts in my arm and head toward the exit. I force a few smiles along the way at those who recognize me, avoiding any small talk. The last thing I want is to be here when the performers come out from backstage. I’m certain if I see Blake I won’t be able to resist the urge to slap him again, and that would do neither of us any favors in front of all these instructors, benefactors, and columnists.

My breath fogs the air as I descend the stony stairs and wait near the valet stand. For the next ten minutes, I pace back and forth to combat my shivering. Whether I’m shaking from the cold or anger, I’m not completely sure.

A silver sedan pulls around the loop, and I match its license plate to the app. The window rolls down, revealing a young woman with cropped black hair and nails to match. “Jolie?”

“That’s me,” I confirm before gripping the door to get in the backseat.

Fingers fidgeting in my lap, I keep my attention out at the DC monuments, beautifully illuminated beacons in the starless night. It’s easy with the daily hustle and bustle to forget that I live here. I rarely come to this area, tending to avoid the touristy attractions at all costs.

A gust of wind whirls through the car’s interior.

“Brr…” The driver—whose name is Mindy, according to the nameplate at the front of her car—reaches for the temperature dials. “Let me get that heat going higher.”

“Thanks.” I smirk to myself, knowing that whatever she does won’t shift the chill or stop our breaths from clouding.

Jax is here.

My gaze drops to my chest where my scar’s buried beneath layers of lace and mesh. Did I unintentionally summon him?

“Hello, Tempest.”

He doesn’t say anything else, the comforting chill of him sidled next to me in silence the rest of the trip. When I get out of the car, he speaks again. “I was worried about you.” His voice is low and brittle. Hesitant. Like he—

“Did you know about Blake? Is that why you scared him off the other night?” I unleash the questions much louder than I intend to.

“Scared who off?” a voice shouts from my left. I swivel to find a homeless man seated on a park bench, a grocery cart full of clothes and items next to him. He gives me a pitying smile. “Sorry, fancy girly, but I think you’re confused.”

I guess confused is politer than calling me crazy.

Giving the man an awkward wave, I hobble on my heels that are now killing me and pull out a ten-dollar bill, wishing him a good night. When I move to offer him my coat, he waves me away. “I’ve got plenty, keep it and get yourself home safe. You’ll catch a chill out here.”

Little does he know that chill won’t be leaving once I get home. Even if he blends in with the cold winter air, Jax’s lingering presence remains, trailing me like an invisible shadow.

“What happened? I scared him off because I felt like it… Because…”

“Because what?” I snap, not having the patience right now to be met with riddles and half answers. I fumble for my key and open the door, kicking off my heels as soon as I enter the apartment. Hanging my coat on the hook, I turn when a flash of movement skates by my peripheral vision.

There, under the illumination of moonlight, is Jax’s silhouette. He’s barely visible, as if sculpted from ice, and there are no discernible features, but I can tell he’s tall and muscular.

Gorgeous.

“Oh my god. Is that your true form?” My voice shakes from the shock of what I’m seeing—or not seeing. I take one tentative step after another toward him. “Your harbinger one?”

His head drops down, then tilts to the side. There’s a hint of joyful amusement to his tone despite the fact that I can’t see his actual face. “Not quite… But it’s something .”

“It certainly is.” My brows furrow as I drink him in. The way I want to move toward him, discover how he fits around me… It’s all consuming. A craving I can’t explain. “What is this?”

“What is what?”

“What is this between us?” My breaths fog against his glassy form. Frosty swirls spread from the point of contact, and I watch them disappear, mesmerized. “How did you know to come tonight? I didn’t call you, did I?”

He pauses a moment, and it’s not the first time he seems to be choosing his words carefully.

“I sensed your pulse skyrocket. I dropped what I was doing and had to find you. I saw you watching the performance, though, and didn’t want to interrupt, so I waited.” His voice lowers an octave. “What happened tonight? Your heartbeat was…erratic.”

“I found Blake with someone else before the show.”

There’s a growl, then a long pause only filled with the white wisps of my breathing.

“I’m sorry. He wasn’t worthy of you, Tempest.” His icy hand goes to my shoulder, and I jolt against the barely there touch. Even without any weight behind it, I can still feel him somehow. It’s strangely comforting, and I find myself resisting the urge to rest my cheek against him.

“Honestly, I’m more mad at myself.” My chest heats recalling the look on Blake’s face after I slapped him. “I thought there was something real between us. How pathetic am I?”

“You’re not pathetic.”

“I was nothing to him.”

“Want me to assist him with a well-timed slip?” Jax offers with a chuckle, although something tells me he’s not completely joking. “My skills are at your disposal.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“What can I do?”

The sincerity in his voice disarms me. While I may not be able to fully see him, he sees me. Sees me more than Blake ever did. “Why do you care so much?”

He stills, taking his hand from me. Disappointment floods my veins until his near-translucent fingers brush my own. His touch isn’t sturdy, but it’s thicker than the icy breeze surrounding us. “Like I said before, we have a connection.”

“Tell me more?” I ask, brows knitting together. “Please?”

His fingers interlace mine, gently guiding our hands over the spot between my ribs. “We’re mates.”

“Mates?” My voice wavers with the word. I don’t know what it means, but beneath our palms, in the deepest recesses of my soul, it feels right.

“Mates were created by Fate to combat the loneliness that can come with immortality. Harbingers see it as a gift. It’s not set when the bond will take shape, but once it does, it’s a constant need to be with your other half. I can feel it. Feel you. Always.”

“How come I can’t feel you, though?”

“I’m not certain, but I suspect your instincts are tamped down because you’re mortal.”

There’s a bittersweet quality to his tone. I wish I could see his face right now, not just the fluid outline of him. He ripples before me like a mesmerizing, moving sculpture. If I could, I’d freeze him in place and run my hand along every chiseled groove. It’s my fault he’s like this—not whole before my eyes. I haven’t allowed myself to wrap my head around what he is. Even now that I know who he is to me, what he’s done for me, I still can’t bring myself to fully believe this reality.

To believe in him.

“What we have is unusual.” He clears his throat. “When my mate mark began to form, I was so excited to find you. I rushed to you, though I could sense something was wrong. Could feel your panic. Once I saw you trapped in that car, I realized you were mortal. I… I watched you die, Jolie. Held you in my arms until… It was the worst experience of my existence… Worse than my own death. Worse than the days I struggled with my transition into harbinger life.”

All the air pulls from my lungs and my knees buckle, nearly making me lose my balance. Jax steps closer, bracing me. It wasn’t just my mother who died that day… I did too.

A frosty tear falls onto my chest, snaring my attention. I reach up, brushing along where I can make out his cheek before dropping my hands to his chest. “Tell me what happened.”

Even though my fingers are met with resistance, he’s not solid enough to hold. Not yet.

How I wish he was.

“You started to turn into one of us, but I begged Fate to stop it. To stop you from leaving this world. She hesitated at first, but eventually, she agreed. Brought you back. Afterward, I couldn’t stop sensing you, wanting to be near you. It was agony, knowing we couldn’t be together. So I begged Fate again… Begged her to make me forget.”

My body stills as I take in his words. “Forget what? The accident? Me?”

“To forget it all. To forget watching you die. That I had a mate.” His hands trail over my own. “There’s never been a harbinger gifted a mortal mate. But you weren’t…”

“I wasn’t meant to be mortal when you found me,” I finish for him.

“I thought if I forgot, it’d be easier to cope with. It was the last thing I asked for before hibernating for three seasons. My punishment for interfering.”

Gently gliding my hands around him, I rest them on the nape of his neck as I take in the glistening pane of his face. He cradles my chin, those familiar eyes glinting through the darkness.

“The moment I woke up this winter, I could feel you. That thrum, the constant pound of your heartbeat in my ribs. I didn’t understand it at first. I only knew you were mine. It wasn’t until I asked for my memories so I could answer your questions that I realized what I’d done. And while I don’t regret saving you, not for a second…”

“But?”

“Once I found you this winter, I needed to know everything about you. Was desperate to be near you.” He clears his throat. “I’d even watched you with Blake a few times.”

That admission makes me blush.

“I hated the fact that I couldn’t bring myself to leave you alone. Even though I wanted you to live your life, it killed me to not be a part of it.”

“I’m sorry.” I can only imagine how much it hurt to see us together, especially after finding Blake and Nina tonight. To know I’d caused Jax pain, however unintentional, was like cracking my own ribs. Exposing something far too vulnerable.

“Don’t be. I did this to myself and I wouldn’t change the choice I made.” His piercing gaze holds mine. “Your pulse is the most precious sound to me, Tempest.”

“Jax?” I press up to my tippy-toes. Gently gliding my hands around him, I rest them on the nape of his neck

“Yes.”

“I’m really trying to process all of this.”

His chin drops, and I can hear the disappointment in his words. He gave me the truth, one he’s been avoiding. “I understand. Tonight’s been a lot for you, in more ways than one.”

“It has.” I bite my lip, chewing over my request. Staring up at him from between my lashes, I imagine the rest of his features beyond the glittering gaze peering back at me. There’s so much in those eyes. Icy-blue sadness, shimmering silver, bursts of gossamer hope emerging through the cracks. He’s sacrificed for me before I ever even knew he existed, and despite how crazy it seems, how impossible, he keeps trying to reach me. Now here he is, wanting nothing more than to be seen by me.

“I need you to do something.” I press up a tiny bit higher, until my lips are a snowy breath away from the silhouette of his. A thin slip of white curls between us and all I want is to breathe in the belief he has in me, in us, right back into him. To make it all a reality.

“Anything for you, Tempest.”

“Kiss me.”