Page 131 of Ice Me Out

And I need time to play. I don’t think I’ve touched my kit since meeting Hart. Unacceptable. Absolutely unacceptable.

Hart grunted as I replayed my talk with Kandace. I needed to tell Hart… and I would. At least the majority of it over dinner tomorrow night.

I wasn’t ashamed of my family, but we had always been complicated. Not dysfunctional, just… a lot.

Kandace? She was middle-tier famous in our family full of professional athletes, musicians, entrepreneurs, people whose names appeared in magazines and interviews, people with managers, agents, publicists, endorsement deals, and security details. Family reunions looked less like reunions and more like industry mixers and networking events.

Most people looked at me and saw a biochemistry student with a passion for beer and music. I let them believe that because it was far easier than explaining the truth. The truth brought questions and unwanted, overwhelming attention.

Hart deserved answers, and that’s what bothered me.

Every day we spent together made the secrets feel heavier. I trusted him more than anyone, but I wasn’t sure how much information was too much information all at once.

“There’s something you should know.”

The hand that was stroking between my shoulders paused. “You’re about to piss me off, aren’t you?”

“Real bad,” I confirmed.

He closed his eyes and sighed. “Rip the band-aid off.”

“There’s no easy way of saying this, but… I kinda got into it with a group of Warrior WAGs last night at the game.”

I sat up and waited for Hart to go clean off.

“I’m sorry. What?”

I blew a raspberry before launching into the story about the Karen WAG who claimed Monica and I were taking pictures that included her child; the back and forth; the threat from the WAG to get us kicked out; the Karen comment that was promptly followed by calling us ghetto trash, and finally the baby mama comment that had gotten a drink thrown on us.

“I can’t fucking believe this shit,” Hart cursed, grabbing his phone and rolling out of bed. His jaw locked as his fingers flew over the screen.

“What are you doing?”

“Letting Flip know we might have a problem on our hands. What did she look like?”

“Blonde,” I answered immediately.

Hart shot me a deadpan look. “Come on, Sugar. Work with me here. I need a little bit more than that.”

“Really blonde. Like Targaryen blonde.”

“Okay. That narrows it down to three. What else?”

“The baby was bald-headed.”

“Vera,” Hart groaned.

I held my hands up in defense. “Hey. I’m doing the best I can. I wasn’t exactly sober at the time.”

“Fair, but it would be great if you could give me something else to go on.”

I snapped my fingers repeatedly as I thought back, and after ten snaps, I remembered the jewelry she wore.

“She wore an unnecessary amount of gold bangles on her wrist.”

Hart closed his eyes and whispered, “Not Chelsi.”

“Who is Chelsi?”