Page 30 of Iced Out
“And Chase…” Her voice dipped, as though saying it too loud might make it worse. “He’s watching me. More than usual.”
I straightened, catching the hint she was throwing. That maybe she wanted my help with her brother, or at the very least, my ear. But I also had noticed why Chase was more on edge, even if she wasn’t ready to admit it. “Because of Jax?”
Avery’s lashes flicked up in surprise. Then down again. She worried the sleeve of her T-shirt between her fingers.
“He’s not exactly subtle,” I added. “I see the way he hovers when your brother isn’t looking. The way his jaw tightens when someone else gets too close.”
She flinched—barely—but it was there. “Jax doesn’t care about me like that.”
The words came out flat. Practiced. I didn’t challenge her. But I didn’t believe her either. She believed it—clearly—but Jax? That guy watched her as if she was both a complication and a lifeline—touching her might break something in him, but staying away was killing him anyway. He just hadn’t figured out which yet, or if he could go against his best friend’s wishes and pursue her without causing an all-out war.
“You know that’s not true, right?” I said quietly. “You’re one of the few people Jax actually listens to. He would throw down against anyone for you, Aves. And we both know that’s not nothing for a guy like him.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “He might throw a punch—but that doesn’t mean he’ll choose me.”
I pushed off the wall and leaned against the vending machines with her. “Then make him.”
That pulled her attention. She blinked. “What?”
“Make him choose you.” I shrugged. “Be brave, Aves. You’re one of the smartest people here.” The girl was in contention to be valedictorian. She didn’t really want it, but she could. “You want him? Don’t wait for permission, especially from your brother. He’s never gonna give it.”
Avery opened her mouth. Closed it. And then she smiled. For real this time. “Who are you, and what have you done with Mila?”
I smirked. “Don’t get used to it.”
Her laugh was soft. Then she checked her phone and cursed under her breath. “Shit. I’m late for physics.”
I nudged her shoulder with mine. “Go. I’ll catch up.”
She jogged off without another word. I stayed. Just long enough to let the cold from the vending machine seep into my back. Long enough to feel the tension fizzing out, only to be replaced by something worse.
The day crawled by. And the entire time? I could still feel Luke’s stare from earlier—the one that haunted my spine. And I had a sinking feeling he wasn’t done with me yet. The rules of the game had just changed.
I took that thought with me throughout the rest of the day and until I was at home where I could finally do something without anyone hovering over me.
By the time I got home, the sky had bled into night. My fingers hovered over my laptop’s keyboard, the blue light of the screen the only thing illuminating my room. The ceiling fan creaked above me. A faint hum of traffic drifted through the barely cracked window. The scent of cheap detergent and lemonfloor cleaner clung to the air—remnants from my half-hearted cleaning job on the dump we were living in. I’d been here for three hours, maybe more. Time didn’t exist in this kind of obsession.
Click. Scroll. Click again.
Archived press releases. Blog posts no one read. It was all there. Buried under layers of PR polish and corporate vagueness. I searched local business forums, legal filings, finance blogs desperate for ad revenue—anywhere that might’ve caught something the mainstream media didn’t care enough to report.
And then I found it. A photo from the day Mom and I left Blackwood.
Buried in a puff piece from just over a year ago. The headline was bullshit. Something like“King Enterprises Ushers in New Era of Leadership.”The article read as a love letter to a dynasty trying not to look desperate in public. Words like “streamlining” and “strategic transition.” They meant nothing.
But the image—it gutted me.
A group of executives lined up in front of the building’s newly unveiled plaque. Plastic smiles. Suits that cost more than my entire wardrobe. And in the back, slightly off-center but unmistakable, stood my mother.
Wearing a navy blazer. Her mouth in a hard line. Arms folded. Not casual. Not proud. Defensive. And there beside her was Darren Langley. And—the reveal stopped me cold—Lorne. Behind them. The cleanup partner whose face was always out of view. In the last photo before Langley was killed.
My breath caught. She knew Lorne. She was with him the day it all went off the rails. She wasn’t just there—she was at the epicenter.
Darren, the boyfriend. The vice president. The one who, according to town legend from what I’d just read, took a high-paying job out of state and ghosted everyone. Only… that wasnever the story I got. Because I remembered that night. Not a goodbye. Not a moving van.
Blood. A pool of it spreading beneath his body. Copper thick in the air. The panic when she wrapped her arms around me. Whispered, “They’ll blame us,” as if it was a curse. Like she already knew we were running.
I’d assumed it was a jealous wife. A lover’s spat gone sideways. My mom never had healthy relationships—never stuck around long enough for the fallout. But this…? This was bigger. Langley didn’t relocate. He disappeared.
