Page 100 of Cold Carnage

My phone buzzed in my hand. Mom's name flashed on the screen. I considered letting it go to voicemail, but the persistent ringing wore me down. Better to get this over with.

"Hey, Mom," I answered, forcing cheerfulness into my voice.

"Paige, honey, how are you?" Her voice sounded thin, like she was stretching every word.

"I'm good, just busy with work." I glanced at the cafe, feeling the weight of Jared’s impending meeting press down on me.

"You're always working so hard," she said with a sigh that told me she wasn't calling just to chat. "How's everything going?"

"I—"

"You know, I've been thinking a lot about you," she interrupted. "Ever since your father... Well, it's just you and me and your sisters now. And I worry about you so much. Hockey is such a male-dominated sport. Are you sure this is what you want to do?"

"Mom, I?—"

"I knew this would be too much for you," she continued without missing a beat. "You have so much on your shoulders already. Helping take care of your sisters, working in such a stressful environment. It's too much pressure for one person."

I opened my mouth to respond, but she steamrolled right over me.

"And these men you're working with—they're not going to appreciate you the way they should. It's a tough world out there, Paige. You shouldn't have to fight so hard to prove yourself. Especially considering the pictures. Honey, your reputation is ruined. What if no one hired you after this?"

"Mom, listen?—"

"No, Paige. You need to hear this," she insisted. "You need to find something where you're valued for who you are, not constantly having to prove your worth. Your emotions matter too. Remember what I always tell you? Don't suppress your feelings for the sake of others."

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose as her words washed over me.

"And don't even get me started on how dangerous it can be," she continued her lecture. "Late nights, traveling alone... It's not safe for a young woman like you."

"I understand your concerns," I finally managed to interject when she paused for breath.

"Do you? Because sometimes I think you're trying too hard to be strong for everyone else." Her tone softened slightly butcarried the same worry-laden weight. "I just want you to be happy and safe."

"Mom, stop!" The words burst out of me before I could rein them in. "Just stop it. I can't do this anymore."

A stunned silence filled the line, but I couldn't hold back. "You've been projecting your fears onto me for as long as I can remember. You're always so scared of everything, and you make it my problem. I have had to be strong for you, for my sisters, for everyone. But not anymore."

"Paige, I?—"

"No," I interrupted, my voice shaking with years of pent-up frustration. "I am good at what I do. I love the pressure; I thrive in it. And yes, it's a tough world, but I'm tougher. What I can't handle is constantly having to reassure you while I'm trying to live my own life."

Her soft gasp on the other end only fueled my anger.

"I can't keep pretending that your worries don't weigh me down. It's exhausting. And honestly, it's unfair."

"Paige—"

"I need space," I said firmly. "I need to focus on my job without having to carry your fears along with me."

Without waiting for her response, I hung up and immediately turned off my phone. The silence was deafening but liberating.

I stepped out of the car and made my way into the cafe, letting the bell above the door announce my arrival. The place was small but cozy, with mismatched chairs and wooden tables that had seen better days. The walls were adorned with local art—landscapes of Michigan’s rolling hills and Great Lakes.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the scent of baked goods, providing a comforting backdrop to the low murmur of conversations around me. Sunlight streamed through large windows, casting warm patches on the worn hardwood floor.

I scanned the cafe and spotted Jared Crowder in the corner. His presence dominated the small space, despite his lean build. He had that sharp, almost predatory look—like a snake coiled and ready to strike. His dark hair slicked back, revealing a forehead lined with years of cunning. A smirk curled his lips as our eyes met.

Standing up, he held my gaze. “Miss Adams, I presume?” His Southern drawl dripped with charm as he extended his hand.

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