Page 70 of Break The Ice

He takes a step towards me, but I jerk back. The silent command hurts him, but he covers it and steps back with a tight, polite smile.

I dip my head and look at the food as he leaves. I know I’m being cold, but it’s for his own best interests.

No good will come of connections and feelings. It would have been better if I remembered that earlier. But, sadly, I ‘didn’t’ or maybe it would be better to say ‘wouldn’t’.

I eat the food, even though my stomach revolts at it, and take a quick shower and get dressed. I pack everything up carefully, and then pause, looking at my camera.

An idea bursts into my mind. It might be pointless, but I have to try.

I pull it out, set it up, and then wander downstairs, trying to appear like I don’t have a mission.

Kit and Callan watch me, and when I go to the front door, I can almost hear their silent screams for answers, but I ignore them and wander out.

It takes everything in me to step outside. I almost turn back, but I need to do this.

I’m sick of running.

The day is beautiful. In the brilliance of this glorious suburb, I can see the perfectly trimmed grass, the shrubs and flowers of matching and obviously planned design. I start taking photos, working quickly and efficiently. Click the flowers. As I’m lifting, I take a shot of the street. I zoom in on the number plates and cars, making sure I can see everything. I focus on windows and the dark areas.

I’m thorough and fast. With each passing moment, my determination grows. I’m going to see this through to the end. I’m not going to lose this battle.

I walk all the way up the street to the end of the cul-de-sac, recording information, colours of cars, any people I see around. I wave and smile and answer their friendly hellos with one of my own. Only when I’ve gotten everything I can think of do I return to the house and go out the back.

It’s harder to go out the back. As I step out, I remember the night that changed me forever, it’s so clear in my mind. Mum and Dad were watching TV when I snuck out of the house. I remember locking the door behind me, leaving it how I left it so they wouldn’t know. They never heard me go. I got a note from one of the guys to meet me on the ice so I could practice. But he never showed. I was out there alone, skating, breaking all the rules, when I fell and hurt myself. It took me a long time to get home.

Only to find my world on fire.

I remember my screams. I can still hear them sometimes. But, ever since, I’ve hated leaving houses. Especially going out the back doors.

I stiffly take wide, sweeping photos and make sure I get every single inch of the forest out the back of their house, and then I turn and quickly snap the neighbours’ yards. The longer I’m out here, the worse my growing panic gets.

As soon as I’m done, I rush back inside, leaning against the wall and shuddering like I’ve walked through cobwebs or something foul. Alone, I fight my demons and memories.

Now for the hard part. I stalk into the lounge and smile tightly at the alphas.

“Can I borrow a laptop?”

Callan shakes his head. “I don’t have a laptop, but I do have something you can use.”

He leads me to his office. I haven’t been in this room before. When he unlocks it and opens it, I’m stunned silent.

“How many monitors do you have?”

“A few?”

Callan blushes, and I love the colour on him. I love the look on him. I miss him. We haven’t gone anywhere, but I feel a million miles away, and it hurts.

I turn away so he can’t see my pathetic yearning. I gesture to the screens and clear my throat. “I just want to look over my photos and upload some to my website?” I hate lying to him. Like more than anything. It makes me sick.

Callan logs into his computer and then, to my everlasting gratitude, he leaves me alone.

I go through the pictures one by one. Searching and comparing. If I can find anything, it will cement one way or another, and I can act accordingly. I start to think maybe it was a fan, one of the crazy people from Wren and Raider’s games.

Maybe it was in my head.

But then I spot something that makes the hairs on the back of my neck crawl. I hiss and lean forward, clicking on the zoom to bring the image right up. On every screen in the room is the blurry and slightly pixilated image of a man standing in the woods staring back at me.

I break out into cold shivers and put a hand to my mouth to stop myself from vomiting.

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