Page 17 of Dreams on the Ice

He’ll figure it out.

Chapter

Eight

FORREST

My reflection stares backat me, and I almost ask myself what the fuck is wrong with me because clearly, there is something fucking wrong. Flexing my hand, I look at my swollen knuckles and grunt. Brooklynn is in her bedroom. I can hear her music playing from behind the closed door as she dresses for dinner.

My dad is pissed as fuck at me. I’m fucking up all over the place, and I want to go home. I shouldn’t have come at all. I should have just called an attorney and had someone represent me. This is not going to be as easy as showing up with a woman on my arm and getting what I want.

There is a knock on the bedroom door that interrupts my thoughts. Sliding my palm down my suit jacket, I clear my throat and turn then walk toward the door, wrap my fingers around the knob, and gently twist it before I tug it open.

I’m met with Brooklynn, who looks absolutely fucking amazing, as always. She doesn’t appear to be frazzled or upsetin the slightest. I start to move toward her, but she blocks the doorway. She tips her head back, her eyes finding mine.

“What?” she asks in a whisper.

I shake my head a couple of times, then clear my throat, but I don’t respond to her because I have no idea what she’s asking. There’s no way she saw my hand already. But then she reaches for my wrist and lifts it between us.

Her thumb slides across my swollen knuckles, and I hiss with the slight amount of pain even though she’s being incredibly gentle. Her gaze flicks from my hand to my eyes, and she holds it for a moment.

“Do I want to know?” she asks.

I hum, thinking about that question. No, she doesn’t want to know, but I’m going to tell her anyway because I’m not making her walk into that party looking like a fucking fool. Any friend would tell her what happened, and I’m just that—a friend.

“Probably not,” I grunt. “But I’m going to tell you.”

She sucks in a breath, holding it as our gazes stay connected. She presses her lips together, and if I had to guess, she’s probably chewing on the inside of her cheek as well.

“One of the family friends and his father both decided to make some comments about you.”

“Comments?”

“Comments.”

Her thumb slides across my knuckle again. This time, I don’t hiss. My eyes are focused on hers as I continue. “Things that they should not be saying about a woman, and especially not about my woman.”

Her breath hitches, and I’m sure that calling her my woman is breaking some fake relationship pact or something. I’ve never done anything like this before, so I have no goddamn clue what I’m doing or what the rules are, but at the same time, I wouldnever let anyone disrespect my actual girlfriend, so I sure as shit am not going to let them do it.

Real or fake.

“Forrest,” she exhales.

Gently shaking my hand from her grasp, I cup her cheek. I slide my thumb across her bottom lip and keep my gaze focused and connected to hers as I speak.

“Honey,” I murmur, “no way in fuck am I going to let someone,anyone, disrespect you. The dad stopped, but his son would not. I’ve despised that asshole since we were twelve years old. I’ve been waiting for this moment my whole life. He only got a taste of what he had coming to him. I wish I could deliver everything he deserves, but I’m not that kind of man.”

Looking into her eyes, telling her all of this, I feel something shift. To be honest, that shift happened a long time ago, about the moment I laid eyes on her that very first time. But I decided to ignore it—to deny it.

I’m not denying anything any longer. Brooklynn is special. I’ve known it, and I’m finally going to allow myself to accept it because the way my heart races when she’s near, I know I’ve never felt anything like it in my entire goddamn life.

BROOKLYNN

We arrive at the party, not hand in hand, because Forrest’s knuckles hurt. I know they do because he hissed when I barely touched them. Instead, his palm is placed against the small of my back as we move through the front door of the mansion.

The whole foyer and living space have been transformed since this morning. It’s absolutely out-of-this-world opulent. There are waiters carrying trays of champagne and horsd'oeuvres. There is also an extra-long banquet table along the back of the living room with piles of food and even an ice sculpture.

It’s wild.

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