Page 88 of Icebound

“Nothing. Just… thanks for driving me. I had fun scream-singing in the car with you for four hours.”

The grin that lights up my sister’s face is so wide that you’d think I told her I found a way to keep her avocados eternally fresh. “You’re welcome. Love you.”

“See you,” I say, avoiding those three little words like a bad habit.

I stride through the glass doors into the gleaming lobby. There’s a group of women crowded around a table full of hydrangea bouquets, dressed in Guardians blue and white. As I head to the front desk to pick up the key card Micah left, I catch a piece of their conversation.

“Oh, definitely Rhode Tremblay. Have you not heard all those stories about him? He absolutely knows what he’s doing.”

“What about Micah Cruz? He seems like he’d be a fun time in bed.”

“All I know is whoever got to make babies with Wyatt Patterson is the luckiest woman on the planet.”

My hands ball into tight knots at the idea of other women going after Rhode. After the Isaac fiasco, I want someone all to myself. It’s too late to back out now, though, since I’m already at this hotel, and there’s also this tiny kernel of satisfaction that I know Rhode in a way they never will.

Unless he told those women to meet him here. A swell of queasiness rocks through my stomach.

I go straight to room forty-three, trying to ignore the wild beating of my heart as I debate turning around. No. I’ll go and say hi. Keep it casual. I get off the elevator, shove my key card in the door, and walk inside, only to be greeted by a shadowy tangle of limbs.

There’s moaning.

Heavy panting.

Clothes are flying off.

My thoughts move in slow motion. I barely have time to register the scene unfolding in front of me before the girl slams the guy into the dresser. “Please. I need you, now.”

I lurch back like I’ve been stabbed, and something withers in my heart at the sight of Rhode with another woman. I’m not going to have a repeat of the Isaac situation, so I swing around to walk out of the hotel room, but my bag knocks over a glass of water on the entryway table, and it crashes to the floor.

The woman shrieks.

“What was that?” a man shouts.

The lights flick on in the hotel room. The glow from the lamp illuminates Micah's chiseled features in soft light.

Micah.

Not Rhode.

I blink, just to be sure. Micah’s still standing there in a rumpled suit. My shoulders sink with relief. Too much relief, if I’m being honest with myself. The fact that it’s not Rhode shouldn’t affect me this much when he’s allowed to date other people.

I expect to see irritation lacing Micah’s features for interrupting, but when our gazes meet, there’s nothing but gratitude in his small smile. I shoot him a questioning look, but he brushes me off with a sweep of his arm.

The woman, on the other hand, is glaring furiously at Micah. She begins moving around the room like a vanilla-scented tornado. “Shit, you’re his girlfriend, aren’t you? I should’ve known. Ugh, I’m a horrible person.” She glowers at Micah. “And you’re a cheating asshole.”

I rush to defend him. “I’m not his—”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Micah interjects. “The cheating asshole. You better go, Giselle.”

She hurls a pillow at him. “Catalina.”

Micah winces, catching the pillow. “Sorry about that.”

Catalina yanks the champagne from the icy bucket and vigorously shakes the bottle. She flicks off the cork, pointing it at Micah. “This is for being a liar. I should’ve known better than to go out with the NHL’s latest fuckboy.”

The champagne erupts, a fizzy volcano directed at Micah's face. I’m caught in the crossfire, droplets showering over my shirt. He coughs, swiping away the liquid. “Shit, you got it in my nose!”

“Sorry,” she says to me, sounding genuine. “I was aiming for him, not you, and I feel really terrible about all this. I had no idea you were his girlfriend, or I never would’ve agreed to come to his room.”