Page 70 of On Thin Ice

No one had any proof we were hooking up, but even the speculation had gotten to him. Shaken him in a way I wasn’t sure he even knew how to process.

I’d had years to build up armor against that kind of shit—to learn to let it roll off my back. But for him, it was different. It was new. Raw.

It makes sense, I told myself.He needs space. Time to process.

But none of that stopped the hollow ache in my chest. No amount of logic or reason stopped the part of me that wished he had trusted me enough to say that he was scared.

We were supposed to be in this together. Or at least, I’d hoped we were.

Maybe I’d been wrong.

I swallowed hard and pushed up off the couch.

Ethan still hadn’t looked at me as he shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on a hook by the door, his movements stiff and mechanical.

I rubbed the back of my neck. “You okay?” I asked, keeping my voice low and careful. Despite that, it came out sounding loud in the quiet house.

He simply grunted in response.

I shifted my weight, suddenly feeling naive and so incredibly stupid. I’d never done this before—never had these big emotions—and I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. Nothing had prepared me for feeling helpless like this. For helping someone else who felt that way, too.

“It’s bullshit, E,” I said at last, my throat feeling tight. “No one knows.”

He finally turned his head, just enough to let me see the shuttered look in his eyes.

I took a step closer even though my instincts were screaming at me to stay the fuck back.

That was when I smelled it, under the sharp tang of beer and sweat—men’s cologne. Not his, and certainly not mine. Something expensive and sweet and cloying, like overripe fruit left out in the sun too long. It made my stomach heave and my throat close up as if I was going to be sick.

It doesn’t mean anything, I tried to tell myself even as my stomach sank.It’s probably not what you think.

Even though the rational part of my brain was trying to keep my mouth in check, it was already moving. “Have fun tonight?” I asked, my tone as sweet and cloying as the scent filling my nose and making me see red.

His jaw ticked, but he didn’t answer.

I laughed, the sound coming out sounding brittle and a little bit mean, and waved my hand in front of my nose, my face scrunched up. “Smells like you did.”

Still nothing. Still that blank, frozen mask I hated so much.

I took another step toward him. “Hope he was worth it.” I tilted my head and studied him when he continued to stay quiet. Why wasn’t he responding? What was he waiting for? “Did he make you forget all about the needy little slut waiting for you at home?”

Ethan scrubbed his hand over his beard. “We’re not doing this,” he said finally, his voice clipped.

“Doing what?” I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing. Why these words were coming out of my mouth. Maybe he could tell me.

I felt sick.

“Bell.” His voice dropped into warning territory.

But I was past caring.Waypast caring.

I closed the distance between us. “Go ahead,” I said, crowding into his space. “Tell me how good it felt to spread some stranger open. Tell me if they begged like you begged me. Tell me if they cried for your cock like you cry for mine.”

His nostrils flared, and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Jesus,” he muttered. “Grow the fuck up.”

I shoved him hard enough that he rocked back a step. “Oh, I’m plentygrown,” I snarled.

He didn’t respond. Didn’t move. Just stared at me with that cold, closed-off expression that I hated more than anything.

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