Page 42 of Back On Ice

“Yes,” I say, unable to meet his gaze. All the emotions from that day flood back to me. The confusion, the betrayal.

The devastation.

“I… shit, Soph. I think I know what you’re talking about.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I was out of it. Imissedyou. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Then Dad ambushed me with this press conference thing during a training he sent me to, and this girl came up to me. Before I even knew what was happening, she was laying one on me.” His lip curls in disgust. “That’s all those pictures were.”

My heart stutters. He… he didn’t cheat on me? “I… I thought…”

“I don’t blame you,” he says, his tone understanding. “It’s not like Ididn’tghost you after.”

My gut twists at his words, at his acknowledgement of his behavior. “Will you tell me why? What went wrong? In your letter… you said we would make it work.”

He lets out a sigh, and runs his hands over his face. “I don’t know if you ever knew, or if you remember, Soph, but my dad is not a good man. For one, his helping me get into the NHL wasn’t because he wanted me to follow my dreams.” He shakes his head sadly, making my heart clench.

“On the drive to Notre Dame, he made it pretty clear I was just a meal ticket to him. An ATM machine that he’d be able to cash in on once I made it big. When I tried to tell him no, he… threatened Mom. I had only realized a few years beforehand the… extent of the abuse. He never left the bruises where anyone could see them, and he had always been so careful that I never knew.

“But once I pieced it together, it was like he didn’t care anymore. He’d do it in front of me. I tried to stop him once, andthat’s the only time he ever hit me. Knocked me right out, and when I woke up, Mom was in worse shape than she would have been had I just left it alone. It was scary when he got like that. Sometimes,” he swallows roughly, “sometimes I was afraid he wouldn’t stop.”

My heart clenches at his words. His dad threatened his mom? I knew he was a bit controlling and hard to get along with, but… hehither?

“Dad moved to Indiana to keep an eye on me, threatening to take it out on her if I took a step out of line. As far as you…” He swallows, looking up at me nervously. “He told me if I didn’t leave you behind, he would use his influence to make sure your parents’ shop sank to the ground. That he would make sure you would never get into any college, or employed by any company.” His voice cracks. “I just… I just wanted to keep you safe. So I had to stay away. He was always there, demanding money, holding everyone’s well being over my head. I could never forgive myself if something happened to either one of you.” Unshed tears glisten in his eyes. It’s absolutely devastating to see Carter look so… defeated.

My voice is rough when I ask, “What changed?”

“He’s disappeared. He’d been gone for longer and longer stretches of time before showing up again and demanding money, then a year ago, he just disappeared completely off the map. When we first went to Notre Dame, he sold the car dealership. Gave up his seat on the council. It didn’t make any sense. At first, I thought I was just his source of income, but a few years later, I realized he had a gambling problem.

“The first time he called to demand money outside his agent salary was a year after I was drafted. It started with a couple thousand at a time, then the years went by and the demands became more frequent, the amounts he was asking forincreased.” His shoulders slump as he runs his hands over his face, like talking about all this is physically paining him.

“It wasn’t until he dragged over a hundred thousand from me over the course of a month that I realized something was going on. Since being gone, he hasn’t called to terrorize Mom, he hasn’t knocked on my door for a dime, and he’s not with any of his old friends. I hope to hell all his shady shit and gambling caught up to him. I just finally felt safe to come home. To you.” He looks down, not meeting my eyes.

Why?

Is it shame? Or embarrassment? He deserves neither of those things.

“Why… why didn’t you tell me?” My voice is quiet. I could have… done something. Well, maybe not, but at the very least, I wouldn’t have been left with so many questions.

“Sophie.” He sighs, meeting my eyes. “I know you. You would have tried to save me. You would have gotten involved, and he would have followed through on his threats. I couldn’t let that happen.”

My heart breaks for him. For the boy I knew, and what he had to go through. For what he had to watch his mom suffer, and be helpless to stop it. The thought of being under the thumb of his dad completely all these years and never having a choice in the matter makes me feel sick.

Abbie and Tom were right. All this time,Iwas the one angry athim. How could I have ever thought he would willingly leave me like that, ghost me like we meant nothing? How could I have thought the worst of him when he wasprotectingme? Logically, I know that I had no other information to go off of, but guilt eats away at me anyway.

“Carter.” My voice chokes, holding back tears of grief. “I amsosorry.” He looks up at me, his eyes glassy with emotion. “I wish…” I trail off, looking down and twiddling my thumbs. “Iwish you hadn’t had to go through all of that alone. But, you’re right. I wouldn’t have taken his threats seriously. I would have told you I didn’t need a job or college as long as we’re together, and for him to do his worst.” A bitter laugh leaves me. “I would have jumped in headfirst to try to help, and would have just made the situation worse for both of us. And your mom.”

Carter tentatively reaches across the table, covering my hand with his. When I don’t pull away, he tightens his fingers around mine. “Let me take you out tonight. We can go out for an evening, just the two of us.”

When I look up at him, his beautiful blue eyes are shining with hope, and it’s easy to smile at him. Now that everything's out in the open, and I know that he reallydidn’thave a choice, I want to know him again.

I want to hear about what’s happened in the last nine years. How he feels since accomplishing his dream of playing for the NHL.

I want to know if he still dips his fries into his milkshakes, or eats his carrot sticks with peanut butter.

Most of all, I think I want this, whateverthisis, to go somewhere.

“I think I’d like that.”

Chapter Eighteen

CARTER

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