Page 9 of Thin Ice

“Mm-hmm.” The smile on her face gets wider, and the glint in her eye is almost mischievous.

“Wasn’t that, like, a sex thing?”

“It can involve sex, yes. It’s an intimacy retreat.”

I shake my head. “I don’t know if that’s right for us. My relationship with Noah isn’t just about orgasms.”

“Of course it isn’t. But like I said, a good orgasm can change a life, and this retreat is not just about sex. It’s about communication, about your wants, needs, and desires. It could be what you need, and if anything, it gets you out of Seattle and into the sunshine. I think it would do you both some good to get distance from all things hockey, and now is the time to do it.”

“You’re serious?”

She takes out her own phone and taps several times before holding up a retreat website. “One is starting on Sunday, and look.” She taps her screen again. “They have room left for one more couple.”

“Noah would never go for it.”

“Or maybe he would. You just said you think he’d be willing to evolve. I’m telling you, this might be the thing that can help you. And if it doesn’t, then that will tell you something, too.”

“I don’t know; we’re not as adventurous as you and Lucas.”

She rushes to soothe my concerns. “You get assigned a mentor for the week, and you go at your own pace. You won’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. And it will just be between you and Noah, nobody else.”

“And the mentor.”

“Yes, but they don’t participate if you don’t want them to.”

My heart beats quicker at the idea of a random stranger helping us, and I blush. Stevie grins at me, but I push whatever that drunken reaction was out of my brain.

“You really think this will help us?”

“I really do. Will you at least look at the website?” She shakes her phone in front of my face, and I snatch it.

“Okay, but I think I need another drink first.”

Stevie stands and claps. “One more screaming orgasm coming right up!” She leans down so her lips are against my ear, but she’s still not speaking quietly. “Hopefully, after this, it won’t be only coming from a drink.”

Chapter four

Noah

I up the speed on the treadmill, my feet pounding on the moving surface. “Run Boy Run” by Woodkid blares through the speakers of my home gym, and drops of sweat that have collected at my brow drip off my face.

Boom. Boom. Boom. My feet thud nearly in time with my fast-beating heart. I don’t know how long I’ve been running for, only that my muscles are screaming and my gym clothes are soaked with sweat that smells like beer and failure.

When I woke up on the downstairs couch early this morning and Quinn hadn’t returned from her night out with Stevie, I’d checked my phone to find she hadn’t texted again since she told me she was safe. I sent her another text to check in, which she didn’t return, and then turned off the TV for the first time in a week. After that, I cleaned up my trash, dumped out all remaining beer in our fridge, and came straight to my gym to work out. I’d only meant to warm up on the treadmill then lift some weights, but as soon as I started to run, I couldn’t stop, my brain in overdrive.

Quinn’s words haven’t stopped haunting me, and neither has the way her face looked: so dejected and tired, so…over my shit. I don’t blame her. I’ve been an ass, and more than that, she’s right. I have been too busy for her.

The longer I processed everything, the more I realized how little we’ve seen each other. We may work in the same space, but I’m on the ice while she’s taking photos. Then I’m practicing when she’s home editing said photos, or she watches TV while I’m in the gym working out or going over footage of past games or, lately, filming content with Aidan for brands.

I notch the treadmill up another level, hating myself more and more.

“Figure it out.” Quinn’s annoyed tone plays in my memory along with the rest of our conversation.

I was wrong to say what I did. I acted like I didn’t care then basically told her I knew she wouldn’t cheat on me. It was an asshole move, and I need to apologize, to figure out how to make my many shortcomings up to her.

Sweat drips into my eyes, the salty liquid burning them. I blink away the sensation and up the treadmill again. I want to feel the biting ache of my muscles. And with the way my heart is thumping, I think it might force its way out of my chest and splat onto the treadmill.

Good. I deserve to trample on my own heart.