Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
When I call her back, she answers with a small sigh, “Sorry for hanging up on you. I got mad.”
I sit on the bed again. It’s like I’m covered in heating lotion suddenly, the type they put on a sore muscle. The tension is relieved. I was ready for a fight, but that was low of me. I shouldn’t fight with the mother of my child. I believe her. That’s the truth. That’s how I feel, but I have to think.
“You have a game tomorrow,” she says after a pause. “So when I answer, it’s just about that, okay? It’s not about making up a story or anything.”
“I haven’t accused you.”
“Your tone,” she says. “I can tell what you’re thinking. Oh, some nineteen-year-old girl wants to get her hooks in or whatever.”
That was the phrase I was just thinking of with Chuck. She’s reading me like I read plays on the ice. “I asked you if you wanted me there as a father to the child.”
“Of course, I want you here.” Her voice gets quieter but more intense, strangled with passion. “I can’t even believe you’re offering. I thought we were done, but yeah, I want you here. But…”
“But…” I prompt her when she stops talking.
“But Dad didn’t like being ghosted. He hasn’t said much, but I can tell it hurt him. I can tell it made him mad, too. It’s all tied up with…”
“With what?” I say.
“With you and him when you were kids.”
“Wait a second.” I grab some sheets like Emma grabbed my shirt that night. No, not just like. Hers was lust. “What did Michael say about when we were kids? What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Nothing, nothing really,” she says.
“What does nothing really mean? That’s my business, Emma. Tell me.”
“Logan…”
“Tell me now.”
I’m almost yelling. This is the lowest thing I’ve done yet. I’m not worthy of being this woman’s man or the baby’s father, but it’s not about being worthy or choosing. It’s what I am, but I can’t let her break into this part of me. I’m not him anymore. I’m Logan, goddamn Ice, the Ice Demon.
“Just that you might’ve had it hard, that’s all, you and your mom in that house alone by the lake. But Logan—”
I don’t hear what she says next. I end the call, sit on the bed, and stare at the wall. I breathe slowly. I let it all wash away. I think of the ice, the swoosh of skates on a silent lake, and my mother’s voice calling out across the water. Scaring me, that’s the truth—scaring the shit out of me like she was a monster out of a book. It’s not fair. It wasn’t her fault. Maybe I need help. Perhaps I need my woman. Maybe she could understand.
I’m alone. I always have been. Even as part of a team, I make myself lonely, but it was never lonely before Emma. It was just isolated, in the most literal sense—disconnected, knowing no better.
Slowly, I stop the panic from taking over. Michel was my friend, an older brother figure, but I kept my private business to myself. He never asked. I never offered, and I was fine with that, but now, he thinks he can spread shit. Emma didn’t tell me the entire story.
She’s ringing me back. We’re one-for-one for hangups. I turn the phone over and decide I’ll wait for proof. I’ll wait until I know the kid’s mine. I tell myself, hearing it in Chuck’s voice, Hey, man, it’s just another normie who wants to wring us for everything we’ve got.
When I try to lie down, I can’t. I can’t even think about sleeping. Despite the sense of betrayal, the suspicion, and the doubts, I can’t stop thinking of being a father—a connection that spans thousands of miles. Me and my baby, in my woman’s belly.
Suddenly, I’m packing again. I shove things into my suitcase. I’m not going to call her. I’m not going to warn her. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ll figure it out when I’m there.
As I leave my hotel room, I’m on my phone, booking a flight. Chuck is walking up the hallway. He’s wearing a bright purple shirt and skinny jeans. He looks like a different species to me. He stops, weaving a little from side to side, rubbing his eyes. “Fuck, man, what time is it? Am I late for practice or something?” I hadn’t even realized he’d left the room, honestly.
“You’ve got time to sleep it off, Chuck.” I realize I’m grinning. I’ve gone from having no moods to a worrying number of mood swings. Stepping forward, I jab him on the shoulder. “Tomorrow, my teammates will have to pick up the slack for me.”
“Wait…” Chuck steps back like he’s forcibly trying to sober himself up. “Why won’t you be there?” He looks at my suitcase. “What’s happening, Logan? Why are you smiling, man?”