Page 21 of Back On Ice

I come with a small cry, my core clenching around my fingers as I ride the friction of my palm through the waves of my orgasm.

The memories don’t stop; they keep flooding in, reminding me of why I’m not going to let him back into my life.

I wake up to a glorious morning glow and a smile plastered on my face, despite the slight ache between my legs.

When I reach for him, hoping for a morning cuddle, all I find are cold sheets. Hm. He shouldn’t have had to leave yet. He said he would tell his parents he was sleeping at Jake’s.

"Cart?" My voice echoes the empty room. No answer. I sit up, rubbing my eyes and looking around, already missing the warmth of him next to me.

With a heavy sigh, I roll out of bed and throw on my panties and oversized sleeping shirt. I take a peek out the window and frown, noting his car missing from the driveway. Maybe he was worried about my parents coming home early?

I snatch my phone from the nightstand and see a text from him, relief washing over me.

Carter: Hey, beautiful. Last night was amazing. My dad was freaking out about something, so I had to go. Lunch later? I’ll text you by noon.

My thumbs work quickly as I reply:

Me: Sounds great. Can’t wait.

I watch the screen, half expecting it to buzz immediately, but nope, it just sits there, silent.

As the minutes tick by without a peep, my post-bliss buzz cools off, and I'm left with a growing list of questions. This isn’t how I thought I would wake up the morning after losing my virginity.

I had waited all day for a response, even going so far as to text Tom and see if he’d heard from him. It wasn’t until an hour after he was supposed to reach out that I took action. Something wasn’t right. Carter would never stand me up. The memory of when I got to his house is still imprinted on me like it was yesterday.

"Hey, Mrs. Williams," I start, trying to sound casual. "Is Carter around?"

Her face falls, and I notice her eyes are red and puffy like she’s been crying, and she’s still in her robe.

“Mrs. Williams," concern lines my voice, “is everything okay?”

Between the crying and Carter going MIA… something is seriously wrong.

“Sophie, sweetie, come inside.” She steps aside, allowing me through the front door.

“What’s going on?” I swallow, my nerves getting the best of me as I walk through the foyer and family room, and into their kitchen, a place where Carter and I have spent so many afternoons doing homework together.

Mrs. Williams sighs as she sits at the table, motioning to the seat next to her. Numbly, I sit, waiting for an explanation.

“Carter’s dad made him apply to Notre Dame last year. Carter didn’t think he’d get in. Last week, his acceptance came.His dad wanted to wait to tell him until after the championship game.”

“So… where is he?” My voice breaks, not fully understanding what she is saying. If he got into Notre Dame, wouldn’t he tell me? We were just talking about it last night.

“He technically has enough credits to graduate,” his mom says, her eyes tearing up. “Carter's dad… he wanted him to start now. I’m so sorry, Sophie. He thinks that if Carter waits, he won’t decide on Notre Dame because of his… well, his ties here.”

She doesn’t need to put a fine point on it. “You mean me. I’m the ties?”

And by ties, he means small-town girl who could supposedly derail Carter’s fast track to the big leagues.

Mrs. Williams leans closer, lowering her voice even though we're alone. “He forced Carter to leave weeks before he needed to, hoping the distance would... help him forget, I guess. Or at least not do anything rash like, I don’t know, follow his heart instead of a hockey scholarship.”

I'm trying to process this, the idea that someone’s dad would think I'm a distraction big enough to take his son across a quarter of the way across the country. Mr. Williams is not a warm man. I used to try to do everything in my power to break through his icy demeanor, but now I realize I never had a chance.

“I thought…” I can’t stop the words from leaving me, even though it’s the least of my worries, “I didn’t think Mr. Williams… hated me so much.”

“Oh, honey.” Her hand grapes mine on the table. “He doesn’t hate you. He just has… plans for Carter.”

“Plans that don’t include me.” My voice is quiet.

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