Page 2 of Ice, Love, & Other Penalties

My mind was reeling. This was wrong, wasn’t it? But at the same time, it felt so right. His hands roamed my body, igniting a fire within me that I had never felt before. I couldn’t help but respond, my own hands exploring his muscular frame.

I winced as he pushed my panties down, his fingers grazing my skin. I wasn’t ready for this, was I? But it was too late to turn back now. He was already unbuttoning his pants, revealing his impressive length. I gasped as he entered me, the pain sharp and intense.

“Stop, please, stop,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart, but he didn’t listen to my plea. Instead, he dove deeper into his own urgency, his movements became more frantic, as if trying to escape from something within himself rather than connecting with me.

That night marked the end of my love story, the kind of ending that doesn’t make it into the fairy tales. It was the night he finally kissed me, the night I thought would seal our love, but instead, it unraveled the very fabric of my being. It was as if he took everything from me, leaving me hollow.

I chastised myself, laughter bitter and hollow resonating in my mind. How could I have been so naïve? To believe that he could ever love me was foolish. He proved as much when, after he was done, he walked away without a backward glance. The one time I dared to reach out to him, he coldly told me to leave him alone. Claimed he was too busy for a “child” like me. He even threatened me with a restraining order if I dared to contact him again.

Love, I’ve come to realize, is a fool’s game. It tempts you with promises of forever, only to leave you shattered in its wake.

Haunted by the fear of ending up like my biological mother—to unlife myself after the loss of the man she loved—a cascade of nightmares began to plague me. Night after night, they serve as a cruel reminder of my stupidity, transforming my life.

Despite the mayhem that boils within me, I strive to live a semblance of a normal life. Yet, when the night falls and the world quiets, the fear of closing my eyes is palpable. The darkness isn’t just the absence of light. It’s a canvas for my deepest fears to paint their horrors.

But in the light of day, I wear my mask well. Everyone in my family just thinks that I have debilitating anxiety, which interferes with some aspects of my life. Yet, I still smile, I laugh, and I pretend that I’m okay. Despite the fact that beneath the surface there’s a constant battle raging—a battle to find peace with my past, to forgive myself.

Of course, I tread carefully, guarding my heart against the possibility of being shattered once more.

Chapter One

Tyberius

I’m pacing back and forth in my kitchen, the phone pressed so tightly against my ear that my knuckles shine white. Gemma’s apologetic voice filters through, each word landing like a blow as she explains why she can’t work for us anymore.

“I’m so sorry to do this last minute . . .” Gemma’s voice cracks over the phone.

I squeeze my eyes shut, massaging my forehead as the beginnings of a headache throb to life. The sun hasn’t even peeked over the horizon yet, but Gemma’s news makes it feel like this day is doomed before it’s even begun.

“It’s just not going to work out . . .” she continues, her words fading to a murmur under the sudden rush of blood pounding in my ears.

My stomach drops, a sense of foreboding washing over me as I brace for what I know is coming next. This can’t be happening. This is actually a lot worse than when my girlfriend broke up with me a few years back.

“I can’t be a mother,” she said, so I showed her the door and that was that.

Did it hurt? It didn’t break my heart, but she made me realize that I had spent two years with a shallow woman.

But losing my nanny—well, this is definitely something I can’t handle as easily. What the fuck am I going to do now?

“. . . I’ve enjoyed working with Myra—she’s a wonderful child,” she continues. “But a family emergency has come up unexpectedly, and I need to leave town immediately. And honestly, I won’t be able to come back. I understand this puts you in a difficult position, and I truly apologize.”

I stop pacing and grip the edge of the granite counter, knuckles whitening. Irritation and panic swell within me, though I try to keep my emotions hidden. There’s no denying that I’m upset at her sudden resignation. I should tell her we have a contract. I paid for her relocation, on top of a hefty bonus and . . . what’s the point? She’ll still leave because her family needs her.

Isn’t that what we all do? Family comes first.

“I understand,” I reply finally, struggling to keep my voice steady. What’s the point of yelling over the phone when it won’t fix anything? “Family comes first. I hope everything is okay on your end.” I exhale and try to inject warmth into my tone. “We’ll miss you around here. Myra loves spending time with you. And if you ever return to Seattle, we’ll be happy to have you back.”

There’s a pause, and I picture Gemma weighing her next words. “Thank you, Mr. Brynes. That means a lot,” she says softly. “Myra is a bright, kind girl and I’ve loved being with her. I’ve written down some notes and meal plans to help with the transition of whoever you find next. I’ll email them to you as soon as I hang up.” Another hesitant sigh. “I wish I could give you more notice, but I really do have to leave as soon as possible. I’m so sorry.”

The finality in her voice hits me harder than a slap shot to the chest. I’m not just losing a nanny. We’re losing the only person who knows how to take care of Myra. And what the fuck am I supposed to do now? Finding someone on such short notice feels as impossible as scoring a game-winning goal in the final seconds of overtime. I’ve got a game tomorrow, and come next week, I’m supposed to be on a flight to New York.

There’s no way I can bring my almost six-year-old along without adult supervision, or that I could magically conjure up a nanny who can stay with her for the next . . . twelve years?

“Thanks for everything,” I say tightly, the words barely escaping as I fight back a swell of frustration and panic. I muster up a semblance of politeness before saying, “Safe travels, and I hope everything works out for you.”

As I hang up the phone, the weight of my new reality crashes into me like a brutal check into the boards. Panic claws at the edges of my composure. What the fuck am I supposed to do now?

The thought of calling in sick crosses my mind, a laughable solution given the circumstances. Sorry, coach, but I can’t make it because my daughter has no one to look after her. As the captain of the Seattle Sasquatches, the newest team in the league supposedly built from the best players available. All eyes are on us, waiting to see if we measure up to the hype.

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