Page 113 of Daddies on Ice
He doesn’t resist as I lead him outside into the crisp December air. Snow crunches under our boots as we make our way across the small distance to his cabin.
My breath forms small clouds in the cold, but the chill does nothing to cool the heat building between us.
Even in crisis, my body responds to his proximity, to the way his broad shoulders fill out his sweater, to the determined set of his jaw.
Once inside his cabin, Ash closes the door with more force than necessary.
The sound echoes in the cozy space, and suddenly we’re alone with the weight of his words hanging between us.
“I meant what I said back there,” he says, turning to face me. His brown eyes are intense, almost desperate. “I can’t share you, Tish. I won’t.”
Panic twists in my gut.
“You need to understand something about me,” he continues, pacing to the window that overlooks the snow-covered mountains. His broad shoulders are tense beneath his sweater. “About why this is so hard for me.”
I settle onto the edge of his couch, wrapping my arms around myself. “Tell me.”
He’s quiet for so long I wonder if he’s changed his mind. Then he turns, and the pain in his brown eyes makes my chest ache.
“I told you my parents were arrested when I was in high school,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “What I didn’t tell you was what they taught me before that. We went to church every Sunday. Said grace before every meal. I was raised to believe in right and wrong, black and white. No gray areas.”
He laughs bitterly, the sound harsh in the quiet cabin. “My father preached about morality and family values while cheating and embezzling money. My mother kept the books for his business and cheated just as frequently, all while teaching Sunday school. Everything I believed in, everything they taught me about what was right…it was all a lie.”
My heart breaks for him. I can see the teenage boy he was, watching his world crumble. “Ash…”
“But here’s the thing,” he continues, moving closer. “Even knowing what hypocrites they were, those beliefs are still part of me. I can’t just turn them off. The idea of sharing the woman I…” He stops, jaw clenching. “It goes against everything I was raised to believe.”
“The woman you what?” I ask softly, though my pulse is racing.
His eyes meet mine, and the intensity there steals my breath. “The woman I’m falling in love with.”
The words hit me like a physical blow.
I knew there were feelings between us, but hearing him say it out loud makes it real in a way that terrifies me.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “For telling me. For being honest.”
He nods, then his expression shifts, becoming more determined. “There’s something else we need to discuss. This stalker situation. We need to talk to Trent again.”
“No.” The word comes out sharper than I intended. “Absolutely not.”
“Tish, be reasonable. He’s your brother. He’ll come around.”
I stand, anger flaring. “Not this time, Ash. I can handle my own problems.”
“Like you handled Mica the first time?” The words are out before he can stop them, and I see him immediately regret it.
“That’s not fair,” I snap, my hands clenching into fists. “I was nineteen and pregnant. I did what I had to do to protect my daughter.”
“And now you’re doing it again. Trying to handle everything alone instead of letting the people who care about you help.”
“Because every time I let someone help, they try to take over my life!” The words explode out of me. “Trent still treats me like I’m nineteen. You want me to choose between three men I care about. Everyone wants to make decisions for me, but no one asks what I want!”
Ash steps closer, his eyes blazing. “Then tell me what you want, Tish. Right now. What do you want?”
The question hangs between us, loaded with possibility. “What do I want? I want to stop running. I want to feel safe. I want to be with someone who sees me as strong, not fragile.”
Something snaps in his expression.
