Page 99 of Icebound

My phone buzzes.

I look down to see a message from Gwen letting me know she’s parked out front, and the tension drains from my shoulders. “Can we do this later? I need some space, and I’m just going to yell at you again, and say something I regret if we keep talking, so I should go.”

His frown deepens. “You’re leaving? Why? The party’s not over, and I’ve barely seen you.”

“I just need to go,” I grit out.

He reaches for my shoulders, but I move away from him because I don’t want him to feel how sweaty I am.

He shoves his hands deep in his pockets instead. “I want to help, Nina. That’s all. Anjali said you ran out, and she was worried. I wanted to check on you.”

The softness in his voice makes guilt grow inside me, which festers into anger because I can’t even manage to have a fucking conversation when I’m trying to hold onto that shred of control.

I hate it, but I snap.

“I don’t need anyone’s help, but I especially don’t need your help. We’re barely even together. All you do is give me orgasms. Yeah, they might be amazing, legendary even, but that’s all you are to me, so no, I don’t need your help, Rhode.”

I regret the words before they leave my mouth. A muscle jumps in his cheek, but instead of seeming angry, he looks upset. My eyes burn with tears.

“Really? All I do is give you orgasms?” He scoffs, backing away, but he won’t look at me, so I can tell my words hit their hurtful mark. “Alright, then, I guess you’ll have no problem finding them somewhere else.”

24

RHODE

“After much consideration,” Andrea says on speaker in Camille’s office. “We’d like to offer you a sponsorship contract. We’d love for you to be one of the faces of ¡Vamos!, Mr. Tremblay.”

The words take a second to register because I’m staring at the glass desk. The last time I was in this office, I was devouring Nina’s pussy the same way Camille’s devouring her kale salad. Camille would stab me with that fork if she knew.

“Rhode?” Camille chomps on a dark green leaf.

I rip my gaze away. She’s silently twirling her finger at me, urging me to say something. “Sorry, yes. Thank you for the opportunity, Andrea. I really appreciate it, and I look forward to discussing the terms of our agreement.”

Camille launches into making plans for contract negotiations while I slump back in the seat, exhausted after our morning skate.

I thought I’d be relieved about finally securing a sponsorship, but I know what this means—more money means more pressure. I’ll have to make sure I’m at my peak performance because now I have another contract to uphold, and my body’s hanging on by a thread.

Tack on the fact that the media vultures are still asking about my retirement in interviews, and I’m tempted to prove them right and retire from the League once my contract’s up. That’d be a relief from the constant pressure and physical demands, but I need to get us to the playoffs.

The only person I want to talk to is Nina because she’s not immersed in the hockey world, but every time I try to call and apologize, it goes to voicemail, and she’s not answering my texts.

It’s beyond frustrating.

Mostly because I miss her, and not just the sex. Her jokes, her smiles, her stories.

Just her.

Our string of away games was a solid distraction, but it’s been over a week, and my regret is getting worse. I feel like shit for what I said. I don’t want her fucking another man, or whispering her secrets in his ear, or sleeping in the same damn bed. That sounds like a worse idea than the Dallas Stars choosing that alien as their mascot.

That’s it.

I pull out my phone and text Nina for the millionth damn time, while Camille irons out the details of my contract terms like a pro.

Me

Got off practice early. I’m coming by the studio even if you don’t respond. I miss you, and I know it’s Wednesday, so you’re there.

Nina