Page 7 of Carved in Ice (Made of Steel 3)

Sunday

My head hurt. I went to reach for it, but I couldn’t move my hands. The last thing I remembered was getting ready to kill Don. The feeling of my hands being bound made me slowly open my eyes. Had I been arrested? Had I done it?

“Good, she’s awake!” Liza called and sat down in one of the three chairs across from me.

I blinked. “Liza, untie me.” I hadn’t been arrested. It was coming back to me. Eli had interfered. He had ruined my plans. I tried to stand up off the floor and realized my feet were tied together too. “Seriously, untie me.”

“No can do, Summer.”

“Why?” I tried to move my hands again to no avail.

“We’re having an intervention,” Liza said.

I stopped struggling. “An intervention? Are you serious? Why?” I watched as Eli and V sat down in the chairs on either side of Liza.

“Because you’ve been such a bitch recently.”

I looked up at her. “Me? News flash, Liza, you’re always a bitch. At least to me.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” V said. “Both of you.” He glared at Liza.

She shrugged and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “She asked.”

“That’s not what this is about,” Eli said. “Summer, we’re worried about you. You’ve stopped talking to us. You’re shutting us all out.”

“This is ridiculous,” I muttered under my breath as I tried to twist my hands out of the rope. Ow.

Eli leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. “Summer, look at me.”

I continued to struggle without looking up.

“Distancing yourself isn’t helping anyone. We need to be able to work as a team, and in order to do that, we need to be able to trust you.”

I had nothing to say, so I kept trying to get loose.

“I’ve known you for a long time and…” started Eli.

My laugh made Eli sigh. It was one of those sighs when you’re truly exhausted. When the battle seems too hard. I knew the type of sigh because I'd been trying to fight it off my whole life. I felt bad that I had made him sigh that way. That I had made him feel like giving up…on me.

“Summer, we’ve all been talking and we think maybe you should go to therapy.”

That made me stop. “Really? And who should I go to therapy as? Sadie Davis? Summer Brooks? All of my identities are dead, remember? I’m wanted for murder, Eli. I can’t exactly stroll up to the nearest psych ward and get admitted.”

“I didn’t say psych ward. Jesus.” He ran his hands down his face. “We could bring a therapist here…”

“Despite what you all might think, I don’t need therapy. I’m perfectly fine.” I wasn’t. Every morning when I woke up it felt like I was drowning.

“That’s debatable,” Liza said. “You did try to murder someone today.”

“Not someone. I tried to kill Don. Why are you all suddenly acting like I’m crazy?” Why can’t I untie this freaking rope? “Besides, no therapist is going to agree to come help someone accused of murder.”

“I know one,” V said.

“Well obviously a therapist that’s willing to help a man who lives behind a mask isn’t very good at what he does. No thank you.”

“That’s a little harsh,” Liza said. “And before you throw something back at me, can we just remind you that you’re not the only one that had to give something up the past few months? We’re in this together, whether we like it or not. You could at least make it a little more enjoyable to be stuck with you.”

“Are you comparing giving up your upscale Manhattan apartment to what I've been through? Cry me a river.”

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