Page 29 of Icebound Hearts
“Yay!” Jake bellows, jumping several feet in the air and dashing for the front door to put his shoes on.
“Wow, he’s not playing around. What about your stuff?” I ask, gesturing at his bags still sitting by the front door.
“Oh, don’t worry about it. I’ll put it away when we get home. Come on, let’s go. I want to make sure your new card works.”
My cheeks tingle at the mention of the card, but I pay it no mind and follow Jake out to the car to help him get situated in his booster seat. When I’m satisfied that he’s in safely, I climb into the passenger seat while Sawyer starts the car, and he smiles at me over the center console. In a weird way, it feels like we’re going on some kind of family outing or something. It reminds me of the times that my parents used to take Reese and me out when we were kids, back before everything went sideways.
We drive the short distance to the mall with the windows down, and Jake sings something I don’t recognize on repeat from the backseat. It must be something he picked up from a cartoon. I glance back at him, and he giggles at me, making me laugh with him.
After everything the poor kid’s been through with his parents getting divorced and the way his mother treated him, it’s amazing he’s able to be so happy. I think it’s probably one of my favorite things about him. We have that in common.
Sawyer helps Jake out of the car when we get to the mall and makes Jake hold his hand until we’re inside. But as soon as we cross through the doors, Sawyer sets him free, and Jake tears off into the mall toward a couple of claw machines full of stuffed animals near the entrance.
“He’s never won a damn thing from these rip-offs, but he insists on playing them every time we’re here,” Sawyer tells me in a low voice as we catch up to Jake.
“Daddy, can I play? Please?”
“Alright, alright,” Sawyer grumbles and fishes in his pockets for some coins to drop into the machine, then picks Jake up by the waist to hold him closer to the controls. The machine whirsto life in a cacophony of flashing lights and piercing sounds, and Jake kicks his dangling feet excitedly.
“I want that one!” he says, jabbing his finger at a lavender-colored bunny rabbit toward the back of the case. “She can be friends with Chewy.”
“You’ve got to win her first.” Sawyer laughs as Jake takes the joystick and starts moving the bright-red, metal claw toward the bunny. “A little farther back,” he suggests, nudging the joystick for Jake. “Okay, now a little more to the right. Perfect. I think that should do it.”
“Can I press the button?”
“Go ahead.”
Jake smashes the red button built into the top of the joystick and lets out a sound of excitement when the open claw drops, spinning. It closes around the large ears and top half of the rabbit’s head and starts to lift. The rabbit comes with it.
“Look, Jake! It’s working!” I tell him, feeling just as excited as he is.
But as soon as the words come out, the rabbit hitches and almost falls out of the claw’s grip. All three of us gasp, but somehow the claw hangs on to one of the rabbit’s ears all the way to the drop area, and when the little stuffed animal tumbles down into the dispensing chute, we celebrate loudly.
“Daddy! We did it! We finally did it!” Jake hollers as he sticks a little arm into the machine to get the rabbit. He holds it out to examine it, then squeezes it tight against his chest and peppers it with kisses. But then his little face scrunches up while he thinks about something, and a few seconds later, he thrusts the bunny out at me.
“You should have it, Ms. Violet.”
“What, really? Are you sure? What about Chewy?”
He nods. “They can still be friends. Besides, she’s purple, just like your name.”
I laugh and take the bunny from him. “I guess you’re right. Thanks, Jake. That’s really sweet of you.”
I glance at Sawyer, who raises his eyebrows at me, but Jake has already moved on.
“And now, it’s… ice cream time!” With a beaming grin, he leads the way toward the food court area. I can just barely see its neon sign from where we’re standing. With the rabbit tucked under one arm, I follow him and Sawyer to the parlor.
“I can’t believe he gave you that bunny,” Sawyer says quietly as we walk, alone for a moment. “That’s a big deal. He must really like you.”
I hold the rabbit up to admire it and smile. “It’s mutual. He’s a great kid.”
Sawyer beams and leads me to the ice cream place, which is styled like an old diner from the 1950s, complete with bright-red bar stools, their legs sparkling chrome, and doo-wop music playing from an old jukebox built into the dining area’s wall.
“This place is adorable,” I say, looking around and drinking it all in. “I see why Jake loves it so much.”
“Yeah, and just wait until you taste the ice cream. It’s to die for.” We catch up with Jake at the counter, who’s already ordering from a young male clerk who seems to know Jake. If they come here as much as Sawyer says, that’s not a surprise.
“Brownie sundae, as usual, little guy?” the worker asks Jake.