Page 3 of Thin Ice

At the very least, I should be apologizing for hiding down here all week, for brushing her off when she asked if I wanted to talk or get out of the house, for choosing the couch every night instead of sleeping next to her. For keeping my failures tucked out of sight where she couldn’t see them. But I don’t.

“I’m going out,” she finally says, a bite in her tone that I’m not used to.

“Okay.”

Her lips, painted a pale pink that matches her hair, open like she is about to argue, but when she processes my reply, she closes her mouth and drops her hands to her sides in fists.

“Okay?” she repeats.

“You deserve to go have some fun.”

She blinks at me. “Are you even going to ask where I’m going or who I’m going out with?”

“I trust you.”

She scoffs. “Well, that’s good to know. Thank god my husband of seven years trusts me with something!”

I sit up further at her raised voice. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Quinn stares at me for a long time. Normally, I can tell what she’s thinking, but not right now.

“You know what, Noah? Figure it out.”

“Sunshine—”

“No.” She cuts me off. “And not that you care, but I’m going to dinner with Stevie and Lucas. I was going to ask you to get out of this house and join me, but clearly, you’re too busy for me. Like always.”

I sit forward, reaching out to grab her hand as she walks by. I expect her to stop, but she yanks her hand away and glares at me with an anger I’ve never seen before.

“Don’t wait up,” she snaps.

“Quinn!” I push off the couch to follow her, but the harsh slam of the basement door halts me in my tracks. A few seconds later, the front door slams, followed by deafening silence.

My eyes lock on to where my wife just was, attempting to process what happened and all the words that were said. Yeah, things haven’t been good for me this last week, and Quinn deserves better than how I’ve been acting, but overall, I thought she was happy—that we were happy. I don’t even remember the last time we argued.

I flop back down on the couch, burying my face in my hands. My thoughts fully shift from hockey to everything Quinn for the first time since the puck missed the net…except, that’s a lie. It’s been longer than that.

“Fuck.” I press my palms against my eyes.

I’m such an asshole.

Chapter two

Quinn

“Quinn!”

I seek out the cheery voice that called my name, and despite all the feelings swirling inside me, a smile lights up my face when I meet Stevie’s forest-green eyes. Her grin is contagious, and everything about her is fun. She’s like the older sister I always wanted but a lot cooler than I could have ever imagined.

“Hey!” I wave, weaving my way through the sports bar to get to where she sits in a corner booth. It’s a Thursday night, and it’s packed in here. A game is most likely playing on TV, but I’m ignoring everyone here except for Stevie.

The curvy woman with honey-brown hair stands when I get to the booth, and I note that she’s alone. Before I can ask her where Lucas is, she hugs me, her arms wrapping me in a warm embrace. My body tenses at the connection, but Stevie doesn’t pull back; instead, she holds me tighter.

I tell my brain to pull away, but it doesn’t listen. Seconds later, I’m melting into the too-long-for-the-situation hug, the sounds of the bar slipping away as I inhale the faint floral scent of her shampoo.

I close my eyes and breathe until my muscles relax, trying to remember the last time I was hugged like this—long enough that the other person’s body heat seeps into your skin and you know their scent will cling to your clothes and hair.

There was a time when Noah and I would share similar hugs. He would come home from the rink and grab me around the waist from behind while I cooked dinner, pulling me back against his muscular body until all I could smell was the cedar-and-sandalwood scent of his body wash.