Page 28 of As You Ice It

But holding onto anger is exhausting. Especially when it’s undeserved. It just makes me a shrew.

Maybe I need to just relax and use this time to clear the air. Especially since Camden is apparently working with Liam on Saturdays. When my protectiveness bristles again knowing Camden didn’t think to at least text to let me know, I tamp the feelings down.

Easy girl, I tell myself.

“So,” I say. “Guess you’re stuck with me.”

“Or you’re stuck with me.”

His face gives me nothing. It’s the Fort Knox of faces, locked up tight. This is one of the things I liked about Camden from the start, though right now, I dislike itverymuch.

I’m a woman who thrives under a good challenge. The best way to ensure my success at something is how loudly people tell me I can’t. Or shouldn’t. This move to Harvest Hollow being a perfect case in point. Resistance only makes me push harder.

When I met him, Camden felt like a puzzle to crack. A cipher to decode. Making him smile or getting any kind of reaction out of that stoic face felt like being handed a lifetime achievement award.

Now, I feel on edge. Nervous and off-balance. Whatever headway I made in learning to read him has been lost.

After he left Oakley, Camden and I never spoke again. Over. Done. I didn’t block his number because I’m not a teenager. I also didn’t delete our text thread, which I read and reread in my lowest of lows. But there was zero contact after that.

I have no idea how Camden feels about me now or how he feels—felt?—about the breakup. He might be totally over it now. Maybe he succeeded where I failed in keeping things casual, just the way we talked about. No part of it felt casual to me. But without any clues or signals from him, I can only guess.

Did he shed any tears? Are hockey players even capable of crying? I honestly can’t be sure after Liam told me about a player who got a few teeth knocked out and went right back into the game a few minutes later like nothing happened.

For all I know, Camden jumped right back into dating as soon as he left Oakley. He could have a girlfriend right now. If I hadn’t drawn a firm boundary at checking his social media after our breakup, maybe I’d know.

Even the thought of him with someone else makes me feel light-headed again.

I don’t know Parker, but she seems nice. Genuine. And only a heartless hag would encourage a guy in a relationship to hang out alone with his ex. Maybe I’m grasping at straws, but it’s a semi-educated guess to assume Camden isn’t in a relationship.

“Hungry?” he asks, and something about his tone makes me feel like he already knows the answer.

“Not really.” An understatement. The donuts and coffee have been swirling uncomfortably in my belly for a while now.

Camden nods, then says, “Come on.”

I don’t ask where or why. I just follow.

He holds the door open, and I try to hold my breath as I pass by. I remember too well his spicy, woodsy scent. I don’t need the influx of memories it would bring. We fall into step in a long, windowless hallway.

When Camden led me inside the building to find Liam earlier, I got the sense I would never be able to find my way out of this place. I was also so emotionally keyed up, I’m not sure my brain could process the most basic of information like simple directions.

Speaking of being keyed up …

“I’m sorry for punching you,” I tell him. “You didn’t deserve it.”

“I was the messenger. I’m just glad you didn’t have a gun.”

I jerk back to look at him, and there’s a hint of a smile lifting one corner of his mouth.

“Shut up.” I nudge him with my shoulder before stepping a safe distance away again. “I wouldn’t have shot you.” I pause. “Probably.”

His laugh is a low chuckle, and I swear the rumble reverberates down to my toes.

“But honestly. Iamsorry. I’ve never actually punched anyone. You startled me at my car, and then told me about Liam, and I guess I … snapped.”

“Understandable.”

“Is it? I’m not sure punching people makes the list of common reactions to emotional overwhelm.”

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