44. Jax
44
JAX
P ajama-clad children peek through windows, pointing their tiny fingers in my direction. Their eyes are alight with merriment. One jumps back from the windowsill, returning a few moments later with their mother, gesturing with grins across their face. I love kids. Their joy is infectious and they are usually the most appreciative of my work.
I spin, whipping up wind and zipping around the dimly lit Dorset cul-de-sac. White flecks erupt from my palms, spraying into the sky in all directions before they dance and scatter toward the ground.
“Jax. I need you.”
Tempest.
She doesn’t need to summon twice.
I throw more bushels of snow, giving an invisible bow to my audience, then I shoot up to the cloud line, releasing a flurry from my fingertips.
Waving over to Aneira, she gives me a quick salute, already knowing where I’m heading.
It’s been a little over a month since I came out of hibernation and returned to my mate. Together, we’ve celebrated my first holidays since being mortal. I’ve burned my tongue on hot cocoa, built a snow family, danced under the moonlight with Jolie. When she’s not busy at rehearsal, we are always together, cramming in as many memories as possible. It’s a strange sort of normal I wish we could get used to.
But we can’t.
I press my hand to the mate mark, going to her, and finding myself inside a large, brightly lit building. People walk past and through me, but I don’t see her. Something pitches in my stomach. Just then, I spot Delilah. I draw closer until the crowd parts and there she is.
My mate.
“What do you need?” I ask her, only Lark noticing outside of the two of us.
Her tone had been urgent, but here she is with a big smile on her face.
“I’m so pumped. Thanks for the tickets, Jojo!” Delilah’s loud voice carries over the crowd. She throws her hands up in the air. “Redhots are gonna dominate tonight!”
I freeze in place.
That’s when I notice it. Everyone around us is dressed in red-and-white jerseys, beanies, and hoodies. Colors of the Richmond Redhots. A few are wearing a blue-and-green combo, representing whatever team they’re playing tonight. Jolie gives me a half-apologetic smile.
“Of course! You spoiled us in Australia, figured it’s the least I could do,” she says to Delilah with a shrug.
Lark looks between the two of us, then puts an arm around Delilah. “Why don’t we grab some drinks?”
“Sure thing.”
“Want anything?” Delilah asks Jolie.
She shakes her head. “I’m good.”
The pair stroll toward concessions, leaving Jolie and I standing there in silence. I barely feel the people passing through my body, too focused on her and why she brought me here.
I know the reason, but I need to hear her say it. “Tempest…”
“Hear me out.” She puts her hands up, not even using our connection. No one notices her talking to seemingly empty air. They’re too busy shuffling into the arena to catch the game. A game my brother is playing in. He’s somewhere in this building. Within reach.
“We’re just going to watch. I know how long it took for me to come around to the idea of believing in you. If you decide you want to try that later, I’ll help. But let’s go in and watch.” She waves me over. “Come on.”
“Fine.” I’m shocked, but I can’t deny her. She’s at least made it clear she’s not going to force me to do anything. I sigh, resigned, and loop my arm around her as we move inside with the crowd.
I follow Jolie to her seats, waiting with her until Lark and Delilah show up with their treats.
“These seats are awesome!” Delilah cheers, and I’m fully prepared to enjoy her hoots and hollers during the game.
Jolie takes the seat at the end of the row and I hang out in the aisle. Lark smiles over at us both. I’m nervous, but there’s something reassuring about being here with them. Even though Delilah doesn’t know about me, she and Lark have taken care of my mate when I couldn’t. That means everything to me.
The players skate out and the announcer introduces the starting line-up. My eyes are glued to the number 12, MYLES staring back at me from my brother’s jersey.
It’s him.
He’s right there.
His face is hidden under his mask, but I’ve seen the articles, watched the games. Witnessing Winston as an adult is like someone pressed the fast-forward button on my life. For a moment, I can almost pretend that I never died. That I didn’t memorize the crescent scar beneath his glove down to the last faded tooth mark. That I just forgot the middle of our story and I’m here now, watching my little brother play hockey.
I have to remind myself that I’m in the arena. An immortal. Because the past threatens to drown me all over again right here on the ice. It’s where my mortal life ended. For a while, the pain of what I lost was unbearable, until I found a focus. A way to cope. My frost marks, becoming Lead Albidus, they were goals—something I could work toward that would help other lost Frosts like myself.
I did my duty. I brought winter to the mortal world and I was damn good at it. Then one day, without warning, the ache I’d learned to exist with became bearable. I was grateful and angry at myself for it. But then I’d see my family and that old wound reopened. It did each time I tried to see them until I stopped. A flimsy Band-Aid over a deep, gaping wound.
And tonight, Jolie ripped it off. Only this time, she’s here with me, watching from the stands, knowing I need her for this.
The game kicks off and Delilah doesn’t disappoint. Her wild antics soften the emotional blow of seeing my brother. She stands the whole time, waving her arms, no different than she does at home—only maybe a smidge louder. Not that anyone cares. There are tons of people around us screaming and cheering as well.
Winston sweeps the ice with the other players, faster and more strategic than his opponents by leaps and bounds. “He’s amazing.”
“Yes, he is.”
I can’t stop watching him. It’s like seeing Jolie on stage, experiencing the joy of her doing what she loves. They’re ignited. My brother loves hockey. He wasn’t as obsessed with it as I was when we were kids. He went along with it because I dragged him out to play with me. Now he does. I can see it in the gait of his strides, the lift of his chin, the tension held in his grip. The power behind his celebratory fist pump when he scores.
“Go on,” Jolie urges me in a whisper. “Enjoy your invisibility and get the best seat in the house.”
“You’re sure?” Excitement, along with a heavy dose of nerves, floods my veins.
“I’m sure.”
I flit closer. Pride fills my chest, remembering all the days playing together, our dad teaching us and pretending to make calls in a booming voice as if he were an announcer.
Then I’m skating alongside Winston.
I’m the wind propelling him forward. The ghost cheering at his back. When he scores again, I fly up and bump his fist with my own.
He brings it down, halting his skating. I almost think I see him stare at his glove afterward. Like he can sense I’m here.
Logically, I know he can’t, but I’m by his side whether he believes I am or not. My passion became my brother’s, and every time he glides out onto the ice, he takes a piece of me with him.
I press my mark and fly back to Jolie, kissing her temple and holding her while we watch the rest of the game. The crowd roars, the arena full of rabid Redhots fans. It’s a high unlike any other. Since becoming immortal, I don’t think I’ve been more surrounded by love. But this feeling has nothing to do with the crowd of thousands.
It has everything to do with him and her.
She’s given me the most precious gift. Tonight, I realize I haven’t been as invisible as I thought.