Page 43 of Born of Ice

“I smashed another guy’s face and then I kept hitting him until he was just a bloody mess on the ice, which then turned into a full out fighting between everyone on the ice.”

“What?” The question comes out hoarse.

“You wanted to know why I got suspended. That’s why.”

“Jesus Christ! Exton! Are you insane? Wait, don’t answer that question.” I raise my palm up. “I already know the answer.”

But he only shrugs.

“Why?”

“Why did I hit him?” I nod. “He slept with my girlfriend. Well, ex-girlfriend of sorts,” Exton says casually and takes the sip of the beer that Liam just dropped off for him.

I open and close my mouth a few times, but nothing comes out. Before my injury, I’d say that was wrong. I’d say you should look for alternative ways of handling that kind of situation, but now? Now, a part of me wishes I was strong enough to smash Erik’s face into the ice a few times.

“Did you love her?” Why is it suddenly so important for me to know? He must’ve loved her a lot to do what he did, but I need to hear it.

“Definitely not,” he snorts and now I’m confused. Why would he attack the guy in such a brutal way then? But as my eyes catch on his fidgeting in the seat, I get a good idea.

“So, your ex-girlfriend that youdefinitely didn’t lovewent and slept with someone else and that bruised your gentle ego…”

“The fuck? I don’t have a gentle ego.” Bingo.

“Oh, sorry, my mistake. I meant huge, the size of Texas, kind of ego.” He grits his teeth.

“I have history with that guy, okay?” Even though he phrases it as a question, his body language says this topic is closed for discussion.

I’ve felt something off about him, but now he all but confirmed my suspicions and I want to know the rest. I want to know the real him.

Why? I have no idea.

In fact, it’s a downright bad idea to get to know him better.

“My, my…I did not believe that little shit head when he told me that Electra Monroe is here.” A new voice breaks through my thoughts and when I look up, my eyes catch on Liam’s grandfather. Only now he’s about fifteen years older than when I last saw him.

“Mr. Ross!”

“Honey, nothing changed around here, I will still tell you to call me Uncle Gary every time I see you.” He gives me a warm smile that makes the wrinkles around his eyes more pronounced, and I’m hit with a pang of sadness. Time flies and I wasted so much of it, avoiding this place.

Especially because none of them look at me like the failure I am. No, every time I turn my head I see someone smiling and waving at me.

“And I will still call you Mr. Ross no matter what.” I send him a warm smile back and he squeezes my hand with his old and frail one.

“How do you know everyone here when I was under the impression that you’ve never been here?” Exton’s question pulls both of our attention his way but before I can come up with a good excuse, Mr. Ross answers first and unlike his grandson, he does not hide the whole truth.

“Electra? Never been here? My boy, she was practically raised in this bar. Her grandparents built it with their own hands and then her mama made it into what it is today. The menu and all. I’m just the lucky old bastard she decided to sell it to when—”

“I was surprised to see that you haven’t changed anything,” I rush to interrupt him, changing the subject and I succeed when it comes to Mr. Ross, who launches into the speech about being sentimental and valuing history, but not everyone at this table is fooled.

I don’t dare look Exton’s way, nodding and fake smiling my way through Mr. Ross’s story, but I can feel the man across from me, brimming with questions.

And none of them are the ones I want to answer.

14

More cracks

Exton

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