Page 33 of Icebound

His intimidating glare is strong enough to shrink someone, but my shoulders are iron. “No. I’m not a doctor, but the genius part’s debatable. I’m a very dedicated art student who’s pursuing a pottery fellowship in Argentina, and yes, I’m twenty-two, which is why I turned you down because I figured this”—I wave an arm at him—“would be the reaction.”

His hands clench into fists, which pulls my focus to the veins bulging in his forearms. “Why didn’t you tell me? Were you trying to get me to sleep with you or something?”

I yank my eyes up to Rhode’s scowl, standing tall under his brooding gaze. “Yes, Rhode. I spent that first day we met stalking you from my car… No. I don’t even watch hockey. You’re the one who pursued me, remember? I tried to end things.”

He relaxes. “Good point, but you still should’ve told me.”

I don’t care if he’s some famous hockey player, I won’t make myself smaller for anyone again. “Do you realize how hard it is to admit that I’m just a college student to a successful hockey player? I drive Lyft to earn what you probably make in two seconds, and I was embarrassed by the whole Gwen and Isaac thing, but I shouldn’t have lied. I’m sorry for that.”

He grunts. “You don’t need to be embarrassed about any of that. They’re the assholes.”

“Don’t call my sister an asshole,” I snap.

His brows soar to his hairline. “That’s a strong reaction. You’re really defending her after what just happened?”

“Of course.” I puff a foggy breath. “She’s my sister. Only I’m allowed to call her an asshole, and believe me, I do. Hourly.”

While I want to kill Gwen, if anyone else tried to hurt her, they’d end up with their eyes gouged from their sockets. Not really, but even when I hate her, I’d still go to war for my sister because she’s my sister.

“Alright, sorry, I won’t.” He holds up his hands. “But for the record, I still think that guy’s a dick for what he did to you.”

The warmth of his support wraps around me, but I try not to let his comfort sink into my bones. “You and me both, but Isaac doesn’t matter. He’s like a fly buzzing around my life that I can’t swat away.”

Rhode releases a strangled groan like he’s being tortured. “Why didn’t you just lead with the age thing, though? It would’ve stopped this in a second. Look, I’m sorry for everything that happened in there because I’m way too old for you.” He runs his hands through his dark hair. “Is this illegal? It feels illegal.”

I ball my fists like that’ll stop me from wanting to tug his hair. “Stop, Rhode. This isn’t illegal, and don’t act like you’re so much older. You’re only thirty-three. Have you seen yourself on the ice? I watched one quarter, or wait, period, and you’re just as good as all the other guys.”

A flicker of emotion passes over his face, but he shutters his expression. “Thanks, but it still doesn’t change the fact that when I was twenty-one, you were… Holy shit, you were nine. I’m going to be sick.”

“I was ten.”

He gags.

The gorgeous Wall of Steel actually gags.

I roll my eyes. “Okay, you don’t need to be so overdramatic about this.”

“Overdramatic?” He puts his hands on his hips like he’s scolding me. “I’m being reasonable. You’re my sister’s age, Nina. I shouldn’t have let what happened in the kitchen happen. Sorry. I’ll take full responsibility.”

“What if I want to take all the responsibility?” I swipe my tongue along my bottom lip, and he looks away, taking in a long breath.

“It doesn’t matter. It was still a mistake.”

A mistake.

I bristle in the cool air. That’s what Isaac would murmur in my ear during our late-night meetings in his office when he was my TA. As an Art major, physics was my downfall, but Isaac and I used to huddle over textbooks, with our noses almost touching.

Every lingering glance had me yearning for lasting stares. The recklessness of it all made it addicting, but our secret rendezvous was painted in toxic mistakes.

I mistakenly trusted him.

He mistakenly thought I was fragile.

Secrets are fun, but they’re destined to be kept, never shared, and I refuse to be caged by a relationship. I want someone who loves me so much that they shout about my successes in the grocery store checkout line while ringing up avocados.

“Don’t call what happened a mistake,” I say, releasing my bottom lip. “I liked it… a lot. You sure know what you’re doing.”

He clasps his hands behind his neck, looking up at the sky like he’s begging the blue to swallow him. “That’s it. I’m going to hell for dry humping a teenager.”