Beneath Her Ice

Brooklyn smelled like home.

Concrete dust, coffee from the corner cart, and the distant sweetness of the bakery downstairs — Will exhaled as he climbed the steps to the brownstone he and his sisters shared. It wasn't glamorous. The paint peeled in places, and the heating was an optimist in winter. But it was theirs.

And more than that — it was real.

He barely had the door open when a blur of limbs and messy hair crashed into him.

"Will! You didn't tell me you were coming back today!" Lydia squealed, wrapping herself around him like a caffeinated octopus.

Will staggered back with a laugh. "Lydia, my ribs. I need them."

She let go dramatically. "Ugh, you're no fun. I was just about to go live."

"Of course you were," he muttered, stepping inside.

The living room was the usual chaos: a yoga mat unrolled over yesterday's laundry, two ring lights, and the persistent glow of multiple screens cycling through livestreams, crypto charts, and a video of her unboxing some skincare line.

"Why do you have three phones now?" Will asked warily.

"One for content, one for crypto, one for my backup account in case I get shadowbanned," Lydia said, like it was obvious.

"You're twenty-one. You shouldn't have a backup life."

"I'm building my brand," she said, fluttering her lashes. "And crypto is the future, Will. You're just scared of it because you're old."

"I'm twenty-nine."

"Exactly. Ancient."

Will shook his head and headed toward the kitchen, where the real adult of the house stood — Jan.

Jan Bennett, pediatrician, graceful as always, stirred a pot of lentils like it was a ceremony. Her hair was tied up, glasses perched on her nose, and she radiated that steady warmth only older sisters seemed to master.

"Hey," she said with a soft smile.

"Hey," Will replied, and for a moment, the tension in his chest unwound.

They embraced — brief but grounding.

"You look tired," Jan said. "Let me guess. Eliza Darcy?"

Will groaned. "Do you have her name on speed-diagnosis or something?"

"You've been scowling like someone stole your ethics textbook."

"She's… complicated."

"Translation: beautiful and infuriating?"

"She called my nonprofit 'charity cosplay.'"

"Oof. Harsh."

"She apologized."

Jan raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"And I think she meant it. Maybe."

He sighed and dropped onto the stool at the counter.

"It's like she's built out of marble, but… there's something underneath. Something real. I just can't decide if it's a person, or a very expensive algorithm."

Jan chuckled and passed him a bowl of soup. "Well, sounds like she's already in your head."

"That's the problem."

From the living room, Lydia's voice rang out.

"Guys! I'm thinking of doing a collab with Colin. He's launching this new NFT platform for influencers—"

Will froze.

Jan looked up.

"Colin?" they said in unison.

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Yes, that Colin. He's a genius. He made, like, four million on a meme coin last year."

"He also called women 'brand liabilities' on a podcast," Jan muttered.

"And he's a walking SEC investigation," Will added.

"He's edgy," Lydia insisted. "You guys don't get it. He says disruptive things because the system hates visionaries."

Will stood, jaw tightening. "Lyd. Just… promise me you're not giving him money. Or access. Or anything that could end up with you testifying in a congressional hearing."

She waved him off. "I'm not stupid."

But Will didn't look convinced.

Because the truth was, Lydia wasn't stupid. She was impulsive, idealistic in all the wrong ways, and vulnerable to every fast-talking fraud with a crypto wallet and a God complex.

And for all Will's nonprofit speeches and plans to change the world — he couldn't seem to protect the people closest to him from it.

That night, he sat on the fire escape, city lights blinking like thoughts he couldn't catch.

And somewhere, miles away in a penthouse far above this street, he wondered if Eliza Darcy ever had to clean up after anyone but herself.