Page 186 of Iced Up Love: Part Two
Because he’s right. But I don’t have it in me to deal with that today. I lock my phone and shove it back in my pocket.
“Let’s just go home,” I say.
He doesn’t hesitate.
“Yeah.”
Because that’s the only thing that matters right now.
Not PR.
Not the team.
Not the image.
Just her.
The second we step outside, the air feels different. Lighter. Cleaner. Like I can breathe again. But the pull is still there. Stronger now. Sharper.
“I just need to get back to her,” I admit, my voice lower, more honest than anything I’ve said all day. “I need to see her. Touch her. Make sure she’s okay.”
Zach nods once.
“I know.”
And for the first time since we walked into that arena, I feel something settle.
Not calm.
Not completely.
But enough.
Because we’re going back.
Back to where we’re supposed to be.
Back to her.
forty
Zach
By the time we reach the apartment, I already know something is off.
It’s not loud. Nothing about it has broken yet, nothing has snapped or spilled over into something we can name, but it’s there, sitting under everything, a tension that has been building quietly for days, tightening with every careful touch, every softened word, every moment where we choose restraint instead of instinct.
I felt it when we left her this morning.
I felt it on the ice, in the way my body moved without me being fully inside it.
I felt it in Jackson beside me, in the way he held himself together just enough to function, just enough to get through, while everything in him stayed locked on the idea of getting back to her.
And now, as we step back into her apartment, into her space, into the place that is supposed to feel like safety, it settles more clearly into place.
This isn’t just about protecting her anymore.
We’re starting to cage her.
