Page 25 of Ice Cold, Red Hot
My legs were there, but my head wasn’t. My hands felt too tight on the stick, too slow to respond, and I was half a beat behind on every drill. Passes bounced off my tape. My timing was garbage. I fumbled a shot that should’ve been automatic and over-skated a puck like a damn freshman.
Coach blew the whistle sharp. “Renshaw, wake the hell up!”
Griff glanced over from the circle, eyebrows raised. “You good, bro?”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.
Because all I could think about was her. Celeste. Naked and panting beneath me. That soft, breathy moan when I’d pushed inside her for the first time. The way she looked at me like I was something good. Like I was worth wanting.
And now I was here, pretending I could just play hockey like everything hadn’t changed. Like my own weakness hadn’t been the thing to change it.
Coach had us running breakouts next, and I damn near collided with my own teammate because I was looking in the wrong direction—thinking about the curve of her smile instead of the play.
“Jesus Christ, Ren,” one of the defensemen snapped as I clipped his shoulder.
I muttered an apology through clenched teeth, jaw tight.
I was unraveling, and every second I wasn’t with her just pulled another thread loose.
I stood under the hot spray of the shower forever, trying to talk myself back to where I’d been before. Before I met her. Before I felt the way she’d made me feel this summer, that feeling I’d glimpsed again last night. Like I mattered—not just because of my name, my family, how I skated. Because of something else. Because of me.
Finally, I shut the spray off, cleaned up and drove home, pulling into the parking lot behind the building with a growing dread I couldn’t identify. As I stepped from the truck and pulled my hockey bag to my shoulder, I spotted a too-shiny Jaguar in the visitor spot.
It couldn’t be.
Right? Not today.
But that was my luck, it seemed. As I rounded the sidewalk to the front of the building, they were there.
Mom and Dad, sitting on the bench out front as if they were waiting for a valet to bring their car to them. Or like maybe they’d ordered martinis that would be delivered any moment. Like they owned the place.
“Son.” Mom stood and smiled, and I steeled myself. It wasn’t Mom I couldn’t take right now. It was Darren. My dad.
“Hi,” I said, letting the bag slide to the ground as Mom kissed my cheek and I tried to force a smile for her. She looked the same as ever—perfect blond hair, straight to her shoulders, flawless magenta sheath dress with a cardigan pulled over it just so. And Dad? In a suit, as always. Looking like he was heading into an important meeting.
He stood, extended a hand. We shook. We never hugged.
“Shepherd.”
“Dad.”
Whatever hopes I’d had for turning this day around shriveled the second I looked into my father’s eyes. He was disappointed.
As usual.
CHAPTER 13
CELESTE
It never happened.
That was what I’d decided to tell myself. Now if I could just make my body believe it. The delicious soreness between my legs and the irritating tightening I felt inside whenever I thought of Shepherd made the lie tough to sell.
But he’d been clear enough. It was never going to happen. And I had to believe that was for the best. Maybe Shepherd was right. I needed something steady. Reliable.
I was telling myself all of this as I pushed out the front doors of the building, heading to the lab to meet Dr. Gunning. My attention was on my coffee, which I’d managed to spill over one hand as I’d come down the stairs. I tightened the lid as I emerged from the building, and then looked up.
Shepherd.
