Page 58 of Ice, Love, & Other Penalties

“You don’t need to do it right this minute,” I rush to reassure him. “Maybe start with speaking to a child therapist. Get guidance on the best way to approach it.”

He bobs his head a couple of times. “So you know my secret, what’s yours?”

Chapter Thirty-Three

Tyberius

Indie’s gaze skitters away from mine, something vulnerable and haunted shadowing her delicate features. She looks almost like a startled doe poised for flight. “I don’t?—”

“Don’t bullshit me, darling,” I interrupt, though keeping my tone gentle. “I witnessed a pretty major panic attack back there. You completely lost it because I triggered something.”

“Me . . . I . . .” She swallows hard. “I had a bad . . .”

“Experience?” I prompt softly when she trails off.

Indie shakes her head jerkily, brown waves tumbling over her shoulders. “I can’t even call it a breakup. There was this older guy I thought I . . . loved.” She hugs her slim arms around herself in a protective gesture. “Remember I told you how my parents were high school sweethearts?”

I tip my head curiously. “What does that have to do with?—”

“I thought I had that with him, you know?” Indie plunges on raggedly. “He paid attention to me and I was just so stupidly in love I didn’t realize he didn’t actually give two fucks about me.” Her voice drips bitterness and shame.

She doesn’t look at me when she tells me about this guy, and how excited she was when he finally paid attention to her. An inexperienced teenager who had been longing after him. I don’t move when she tells me about the night he visited her in New York. The intensity of the first exciting kiss and how it built into a disastrous moment . . . her saying no, her pleas for him to stop and how he left, disregarding her feelings.

Now I’m the one trying to breathe normally. My hands clench into tight fists as the implication of her fragmented words sinks in. Red haze clouds my vision, fury boiling hotly in my veins at what was done to her.

“If I hadn’t—” Indie whispers, a single tear slipping down her pale cheek.

“Indie, none of that was your fault,” I interrupt gently but firmly.

She shakes her head jerkily, self-recrimination twisting her delicate features. “For years I threw myself at him. I should’ve known better.”

I grasp her slender shoulders, ducking my head to catch her lowered gaze. “You said no and asked him to stop. That’s the only thing that matters.” My voice brooks no argument.

“But—”

“You don’t want to see yourself as a victim here. I understand that.” I choose each word carefully. “But what he did wasn’t okay. You did nothing wrong.”

Indie presses her trembling lips together. “I just don’t want to feel so broken again. But sometimes everything comes flooding back anyway.” Her whispered confession twists like a knife in my chest.

My alarm beeps then, reminding me I need to pick up Myra soon. I glance reluctantly down at my watch, then back up at Indie. If I walk away now, she might shut down completely or spiral into another panic attack alone. The thought makes my decision easy.

“You’re coming with me,” I say decisively.

Indie avoids my gaze, arms wrapped protectively around her middle. “I have things to do.” Her tone is dull.

I rake a hand roughly through my hair. “You shouldn’t be alone right now. Come with me, just for a bit.”

Her delicate jaw firms stubbornly even as she appears to draw inward emotionally. “I’m perfectly fine,” she insists through gritted teeth. “I’m an independent woman who doesn’t need a man to dictate her life.”

I draw a deep steadying breath. “As much as I want to respect your independence, you either come with me now or I’ll call your family so they can keep you company instead.” I keep my voice gentle, but my words allow no argument. I’m not leaving her when she’s teetering so emotionally.

“Leave,” she insists.

“You’re so fucking maddening, Indie,” I bite out, grabbing my phone to scroll for a number. “Who should I call—Lyric or Harper?”

“Why are you doing this?”

That’s a great question because this shouldn’t be my problem, but when it comes to Indie everything seems to be important. This situation . . . It’s killing me not knowing what to do or say. Should I search for my old therapist from college? I know how to deal with my demons, but someone else’s . . . Well, that is completely out of my depth.

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