Page 34 of Cold as (N)ice

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COUER

Barrett stoodbeneath the pounding spray of the shower, unmoving, letting the scalding water run over his tense shoulders and down his rigid back. He had no idea how long he’d been standing there—minutes, maybe longer. Time felt irrelevant when his thoughts were a tangled mess, his mind a battlefield of frustration and longing. He braced a hand against the cool marble wall, bowing his head as steam curled around him, thick and suffocating.

His gut was knotted, exhaustion pressing deep into his bones. Sleeping near Irene these past two weeks had been pure torment. He’d thought he could handle it, that he could be unaffected by her presence. But after Batiste’s wedding?

That illusion had shattered.

She’d been breathtaking that night, wearing something soft and feminine that clung to her in all the right places, her hair falling in gentle waves, her laughter bright and unguarded. For one evening, she had been every impossible dream he hadn’t allowed himself to have. He wished she would dress like that all the time, embracing the beauty she seemed determined to hide. Instead, she spent her days in oversized sweatshirts andleggings, as if trying to erase herself, as if pretending there was nothing about her worth looking at.

But he was looking.

Every darn chance he got – he was definitely looking at her.

Barrett exhaled sharply, tilting his head back and squeezing his eyes shut against the water. He groaned aloud, the sound swallowed by the rush of the shower. He needed to shut this down. He was losing his grip, spiraling in ways he couldn’t afford.

When he’d agreed to this arrangement, he’d known things would be complicated. Butthis? This slow, gnawing ache in his chest, thisneedhe had to be closer to her? He hadn’t anticipated it.

And today, of all days, he couldn’t afford to be distracted. He had a flight to catch, a house to finalize, and keys to pick up. In a matter of hours, everything would change—again.

A sharp knock on the bathroom door made his head snap up, his pulse jerking.

“Yeah?”

“Barrett?” Irene’s soft voice filtered through the door, and he heard it creak open. “Are you—oh!”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “You can come in. The glass is frosted, you can’t see anything. Your eyes are safe from exposure.”

“Ha ha, funny.” Her voice was dry, but he could hear the nervous edge to it. “I can just wait until?—”

“Irene, stop,” he cut in, frustration lacing his tone. He sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “We’re adults, and you aren’t even interested, so quit acting like any of this bothers you. I’m behind frosted glass, and if you’ve got something to say—spill it. I’m on a timetable here.”

A pause. Then, tentatively, “That’s why I wanted to check on you.” Another beat of hesitation. “Do you want the towel warmer on?”

That caught him off guard. He blinked, then let out a chuckle. “You know what—sure. You’re gonna spoil me with all this plush stuff. I’ve never used a towel warmer before in my life, and, frankly, it’s pretty awesome.”

“I always wanted one,” she admitted, her voice softening. “When Stephen was a baby, I used to toss his towel in the dryer so he wouldn’t catch a cold.”

Barrett smiled, unseen behind the glass. “You’re a thoughtful mom.”

“Aren’t all mothers?”

“No.” The word was out before he could stop it, hanging heavy in the air between them.

Silence.

He knew she wouldn’t push—she wasn’t the type. But for some reason, for the first time in a long time, hewantedto talk—to let her in.

“My parents divorced when I was young,” he admitted after a moment. “My mom worked two jobs. Hockey took care of me more than she did. We didn’t spend a lot of time together.”

She was quiet, but not in a way that felt dismissive. When she finally spoke, her voice was even, careful. “I’m sure it wasn’t because she didn’t want to see you. It was probably because she was worried. About the money. The bills. About disappointing her only child.”

His chest tightened. “Sounds like you’re on her side.”

“Is that why you proposed?” she asked, her words gentle but pointed. Then, before he could answer, she added, “And FYI—there are no ‘sides.’ It’s not about taking one. It’s aboutunderstanding. You should probably call your mom and give her a break or?—”

“She died when I was twenty.”

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