Heart of Ice

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Song: Mind Is a Prison- Alec Benjamin

The day came when Hunter's sketchbook was finally ready, and it happened to be the day before his birthday. I stop by the art store to pick it up, and the woman lets me view it before taking it home. The drawing she created is breathtaking. I wasn't sure how she did it, but she managed to incorporate me into the picture I had given her of Hunter, and it reminded me of our younger days, when we could live without a single care in the world and just be who we were-- the days when he was my best friend and there was never a single ounce of hate or distrust between us.

The image depicted the grown-up versions of us, but we were sitting on a ledge, with Hunter's arm wrapped around me. He was looking down grinning, and I was looking at him, a bright smile on my face and adoration in my eyes. She had even drawn the most beautiful "Happy Birthday" font I had ever seen below our dangling feet. I run my fingers over the drawing, unable to fight back my smile. "This is breathtaking. How did you--"

"This boy's clearly special to you. I thought you'd like something that shows him what I saw in you when we talked about the drawing," She shoots me a knowing smile, and I blush, but still, my smile never fades. "Make sure you hold on to him. People like him are once in a lifetime."

I close the sketchbook and hold it tightly against my chest. "I will. Thank you so much. It's so beautiful."

Once I make it home, I spend the rest of the morning writing the letter on the backside of the drawing. I spill my heart out onto the page, telling him everything I've felt for years, my heart thumping against my chest as I realize how vulnerable I'm being. It's a major risk, but after so much wasted time and still never knowing how much is left with the threat of Demetrius, it's one I am willing to take. After I finish writing it, I read over my words several times, anxiously biting my lip as I ponder if it's too much of a risk. My mind and heart can't agree. I decide to just let it go and let it be. Whether it turns out good or bad, at least I've taken the chance to be honest with him in the first place.

I wrap the sketchbook in a thin piece of tissue paper and red ribbon, and then I lay it in a black gift box. I don't want to give it to him in front of everyone, and I also don't want him to find it before his birthday, so I hide it in the top bathroom cabinet behind the towels. Nobody ever touches the second row of towels, so I know it'll be safe there for the night.

Luckily, I haven't seen Hunter at all this morning, and he was gone before I woke up, so I don't feel nervous about him being suspicious about what I've been up to so early in the morning or him finding the gift. I wander around the house, and still, he's nowhere to be found. When I enter the kitchen, mom is whipping up buttercream icing in a mixer, and the sweet smell of cake floods through the entire room. I peek in the oven to find a white cake rising in the pan. Mom smiles as I sit across from her at the island. "Good morning, honey. You wanna taste test the icing for me?"

"You don't even have to ask twice," I exclaim, dipping my finger in the mixing bowl, and she gasps as I lick the icing off my finger. I cheekily smile. "Delicious. If you weren't a vampire, you could've opened a bakery."

Mom chuckles as she continues whipping the icing. "This child of mine. You are something else. Well, I'm glad it's good. Hopefully Hunter thinks the same."

Every year for Brett and Hunter's birthday, mom slaves for hours in the kitchen baking them a double layer vanilla cake from scratch. She has always felt bad for him and Brett, considering they never knew their mother and never experienced a birthday with their real family, so she made sure our entire pack celebrated their birthdays with everything a birthday should entail. It was even more extravagant for the milestone birthdays. Hunter adores mom's cakes and always raves over them for the entire week-- so much so, it's the first thing he'll eat for days after his actual birthday.