Page 44 of Ice Cold, Red Hot
It was all ruined.
I was too wound up to sleep, but too miserable to leave my room. Hell, I couldn’t even make myself get up and shower. I didn’t even turn on the lights, for fuck’s sake.
I slumped against the headboard and scrolled mindlessly through my phone. Eventually, I clicked into my messages and pulled up Celeste’s name. Nothing new, obviously. I’d burned that down along with everything else. I’d told her she was a distraction, when really? She was the only thing I had that made me feel like I was worth a damn. She was the only person in my life who made me feel like I had a lick of value outside of hockey. And I’d pushed her away.
I typed out a message: Sorry.
But I didn’t send it. One pathetic word could hardly undo the complete destruction of any trust we had.
I leaned back and let my eyes drift shut, subjecting myself to the memory of those faces across the table, the faces of my teammates in the locker room, the way Coach had watched me on the ice at practice. Ruined. I’d ruined it all.
I heard Griff come in, but he didn’t come to talk to me. He rustled around in the kitchen for a while and then I heard him go to his room. He didn’t know what to say, and I know I hadn’t made it easy on him. Maybe I’d ruined that relationship too.
I was pretty close to the bottom of the depths of my wallowing when a sharp knock came at the front door. I waited, expecting Griff to grab it, but when I didn’t hear anything and the knock came again, I hauled myself off the mattress. My body was heavy—all this useless muscle with zero purpose and no motivation.
The living room was dark and I didn’t bother flicking on a light, just glanced at the clock. Eleven-thirty. I pulled open the door, ready to light into whatever asshole was in the hall, but the sight of my brother shut me up.
“What’s up, baby bro?” Blake stood there in the dimly lit hallway in a sleek black coat, tailored pants, and shoes that were just a hair too shiny. Perfect as usual. The golden Renshaw in the flesh.
“Dad send you here to do his dirty work?”
“Gonna invite me in, or wanna keep projecting for a bit?” Blake’s thousand-watt grin made me want to punch him.
I stepped back, allowing him to step inside. He had a suitcase. What the fuck was this?
Door shut, I turned to face the man who I’d spent mylife trying to follow—the guy whose shadow was too big for me to ever find a way into the sunlight.
“Let me guess. You flew in to tell me what a disappointment I am to the family.”
“Something like that. Got a beer?” Blake looked around and wandered to the kitchen.
“No. You’re not staying. Just say what you came to say, and then head back to the NHL, Blake. Back to Dad’s golden pedestal.”
Blake pulled a beer from the refrigerator and turned to face me, leaning his hip against the counter. “You’re in it deep, huh?”
I stared at him. “What do you think? I’m benched and they took captain.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean with hockey. I meant you’re really into this whole self-pity thing right now.”
“Fuck you.” I left him there, turning to head into the bathroom where I turned on the shower and fan and vowed to stand under the scalding water until something inside me shifted. Or until I’d figured out how to accept what I couldn’t change.
I did what they said. I fixed it. I fixed it the way Dad would have done himself… but for me? It didn’t matter. I wasn’t the golden Renshaw, I was the black sheep and nothing had changed at all. And now? My ticket out of the shadow had disappeared.
If I wasn’t team captain—the guy everyone expected to get drafted… who the hell was I? I braced my hands against the shower wall and let the water pour over me. I’d lost absolutely everything.
CHAPTER 21
CELESTE
Determined to seize this opportunity and make it work to my advantage, I was up early Friday morning and out the door before seven. My plan was to get to the lab, get through most of my work before Ethan arrived for the day, and spend the remainder of my day doing something to clear my mind.
I was just stepping out the front door of the building as someone approached at a jog. He caught my eye because at first, I was sure it was Shepherd. And he was running… toward me. My heart leapt, but in the split second it took to give him a better look, I realized it was not Shepherd.
The guy drew closer, slowed to a walk and gave me a grin that was so much like Shepherd’s it sent my heart racing again.
“Morning,” he said, slightly out of breath as he stopped before me.
“Hey,” I replied, feeling off balance a little.
