Page 37 of Dreams on the Ice

Tomorrow, the truth will have to come out. I won’t be able to pretend for too long. I’m not even sure I’m going to be able to pretend for the whole night tonight. I’m going to try, though, because this whole situation is stupid as hell.

The moment the doors open and the men start filing in, my eyes search for him. When he steps over the threshold, the entire room erupts with cheers of “Happy birthday”and whistling.

Forrest's eyes widen, and then his lips curve up into a smirk, which turns into a smile when he sees me standing across theroom. I’m sure my smile is strained as I watch him make his way toward me.

He reaches out, wrapping his arms around my body before he picks me up off the floor, our faces just inches apart. “Happy birthday,” I whisper.

Forrest’s lips touch mine. “Thanks, honey,” he rasps before he kisses me in a quick, hard touch of the mouth, and then he slowly lets me down to my feet.

The rest of the night, he stays right beside me. He’s never far, and some part of him touches some part of me the entire evening as if he’s trying to keep me from running away from him. He has no idea that against every fiber in my being… I’m already gone.

In an effort to save his future life, I am going to leave his current one. Maybe it’s just too early for us. Maybe we were supposed to meet later in life. I’m not sure, but I can’t be the reason he doesn’t get what’s his, why his children don’t get what they’re owed.

In that same breath, I also can’t stay at the salon. I need to sell my ownership and leave. My sisters, my best friends, do not deserve the shitstorm that has come toward them from all this drama.

So, at the advice of my father, I’m offering to let the girls buy me out, and I’m moving back home. I’m going to regroup and figure out what comes next for me. Maybe by then, everything will have calmed down a bit, and I’ll be able to rent a booth at a salon in Raleigh. A place where I can just do hair, go home, and not be anything to anyone.

That thought alone makes me feel devastated. Brushing off the sadness, I open my mouth to sing “Happy Birthday,” my eyes watering as the cake is brought to the middle of the bar. The candles are lit, the room is darkened, and Forrest leans down, his hand in mine. He squeezes my hand as he blows the candles out.

I really hope that his birthday wish wasn’t about me because I’m going to feel like an even bigger asshole tomorrow when I break it off with him. Forrest stands and turns to me, and my breath hitches when his eyes find mine.

Wordlessly, he lifts his hand and cups my cheek, and then his thumb slides across my bottom lip before he leans forward and touches his mouth to mine. He tastes perfect, just like he always does, even though his face is starting to swell in a few spots from his fight.

He’s beautiful and perfect. I want to remember this moment, this time, for the rest of my entire life, until the day I die. I will always know that there was a small moment in my life when my heart was whole.

Chapter

Eighteen

BROOKLYNN

The party ends.I wish I had gotten trashed. I should have drunk my sorrows away. I should have. But now the party is over, I’m sober, and I’m sitting beside Forrest as I drive him in my car toward home.

I open my mouth to ask him where we’re going, his or mine but decide against it. We’ll land wherever we land. Our last night together. I’m not ready to give him up yet. I don’t think I ever will be.

This whole thing sucks major ass.

“The guys aren’t coming home tonight. They all went home with someone.”

It’s an invitation to his house. I roll my lips, nodding once as I continue driving. I don’t tell him that I noticed Alexei and Lev took off with some girls who appeared seemingly out of thin air.

A few moments later, I pull into the driveway of his home, wondering if I should have pulled into my own across the street. It’s going to be awkward when I break up with him in the morning and have to get in my car to drive across the street.

God. This whole thing makes me feel completely sick to my stomach. I don’t want to make this decision. I don’t want to have to do any of this. Why can’t we just live in our little bubble—just him and me?

Turning the engine off, I turn to face him. Forrest shifts his attention from the windshield to me, his eyes finding mine. He’s not as sober as I am, but I wouldn’t even call him tipsy. He had maybe three beers and two shots tonight.

“We’re going to need to talk,” he murmurs.

He’s absolutely right. We do need to talk. A lot. But not tonight. Not right now. I bite the corner of my lip but release it almost instantly before I give him my smile.

“Maybe later?” I exhale.

He hums then lifts his arm, and his hand cups the side of my neck, his eyes searching mine for a long moment, then he leans forward and touches his mouth to mine. “Yeah, honey. Later.”

If he reads something in my eyes, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he leans backward, releasing my neck before he reaches for the door and opens it. He unfolds from the passenger seat and then jogs around the front of my car.

My car door opens, his hand extended and his palm waiting for me. Slipping my fingers into his hand, I throw my legs over the side of the car and stand up. We walk in silence. My thoughts are a mile a minute, and I can’t calm them down.

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