Page 47 of Find Me on the Ice

Chloe brings the trash can over, and I dump the first scoop.

“What do you want to drink?” she asks.

It has been a while since I let myself get drunk, so let’s continue the fun of the night. “Whatever will get me drunk. Host’s choice.”

She clicks her tongue and winks at me. “You got it!”

She hurries away with new gusto, and I go back to my work. I like cleaning; it’s calming. Maybe it goes back to the fact that I like to control everything in my environment to prevent unknown circumstances. If the plates are cleaned up, no one can trip on them or step on one.

If I need to run out of this house for my life, I don’t have to worry about stepping on sharp plate shards.

When I finish dumping the last load into the garbage can, I remember the deal Chloe and I made. But I can’t bring myself to honor it. I can’t leave a mess without bone-chilling fear attacking me—a leftover emotion from Trey.

When I find Chloe in the living room, I’m met with her seventy-five-inch television, bowls overflowing with popcorn, two wineglasses, a bottle of orange juice, and a bottle of champagne.

She is on her phone and starts reading me the rules of the drinking game when I sit down next to her. “Take a sip when Anastasia puts a pencil or pen or other long object close to her lips. Take a sip when Ana bites her bottom lip. Take a sip when you see or hear the word Grey.”

I grab a handful of popcorn and start laughing. “We are going to be drunk in the first five minutes of this movie.”

“There are more.” She giggles and shares the rest with me, a few of which are phrases that Christian uses frequently. “Oh my God, this list is long. Basically, take a sip every second of the movie.”

“Perfect. I will be blackout drunk before we’re halfway through the movie.” I grin.

Chloe starts the movie, and we are already sipping on our late-night mimosas before the opening scene is over.

“You know we can go visit Cam if you want,” she offers as Ana fumbles with the pencil in the interview scene.

I know if I said I wanted to, we would be leaving tomorrow morning. I want to see Cam—I do. But I don’t know if I’m ready to take that leap yet. Guilt still twists in my chest every time we talk because I am keeping a secret from him—the truth of who I am.

“I’m not ready,” I tell her, trying to convince myself of it as well.

I will never truly be ready to trust someone again. But I want to try. I have to try. I know there are men out there who are kind and understanding. From what I’ve seen from Cam, he is one of those guys. But I will never forget that I thought the same thing about Trey. But it wasn’t until his claws were already hooked so deep into me that he showed me his true self. By then, I was trapped. I won’t be trapped again.

It’s confusing, you know, to develop feelings for someone again after what Trey put me through. I can’t help but compare everything Cam does to what Trey did. To look for the signs of hidden intent.

Part of me wants to be carefree, to take Cam for his word and trust him. Sometimes, I catch myself doing that. But the second I notice those walls slipping, they are reinforced at once. It is a constant battle of will I or won’t I—will I take a chance and let myself fall for Cam, or will I force myself to stay safe and alone?

“Okay, but tell me that doesn’t look a little fun,” Chloe says as Christian smacks the crop against Ana’s bare skin.

A lifetime ago, I would have tried almost anything during sex. But I don’t think I would be able to stop the panic that would attack me, watching someone lift that into the air with the intent of striking me.

“You have fun with that one, Chlo.” I tap my glass against hers as Ana bites her bottom lip.

The light buzz of alcohol begins to relax my muscles, and before I know it, the movie is almost over, and I’m eight mimosas deep and about to piss my pants. As I stand up to use the bathroom, it really hits me. I sway and stagger my way into the bathroom, and I pee for what feels like an hour before my bladder is finally empty.

I quickly wash my hands and dry them on a towel before finding my way back to the living room, where I find Chloe already passed out on the couch. I grab one of her throw blankets and lay it over her.

Getting comfy on the love seat across from her, I take my phone out and Google Cam Costello Nighthawks.

Images of my handsome Blue Eyes fill my screen along with links to articles, like “Hottest Hockey Players of the Year” by Buzzfeed and “Nighthawks Take Victory over the Wild, Four to One.”

Reaching over, I chug the rest of my mimosa and set the glass back down. Instead of reading these articles and looking at these photos, I do something sober me is going to regret.

I go to my Contacts and call Cam.

14

Cam

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