Ice Hot

by Tracy Goodwin

I end the call with a swipe of my finger. For countless years I’ve been tethered to a toxic relationship with my dad, to the point where I’ve refused myself the love of the only woman I’ll ever cherish. Even though he was never there for me. Even when I was a kid, even when my mom died, I was still on my own.

  I convinced myself I liked relying on no one. I’ve built my life around that lie. No more. I won’t sacrifice Serena. Not anymore. Never again. We’re stronger together. Only I never knew such a thing was possible. Because other than Nick, I haven’t had anyone to stand beside me.

  If I’m being honest, I convinced myself that the only reason Nick has remained by my side is because we need each other. Our careers are entwined. We’re stuck with each other. But that’s total bullshit. I need him. And I need Serena—especially Serena. I fucked up big time with her.

  How the hell do I fix it?

  I need to make things right with Serena and it can’t wait. I race to my bedroom and put on a nice pair of pants and shrug into a designer shirt. No, not designer. Not tonight. Tonight I’m going to be me. The real me. For her, so I put on a plain navy T-shirt and pack a change of clothes in an overnight bag. I’ll leave it in my car. Bring it just in case Serena forgives me. I pray to God she forgives me.

  Puck and I drive to Serena’s place. It takes a long time to find a parking spot. Once I do, I sprint to Serena’s with Puck on a leash, keeping up with me.

  Serena’s grandmother answers her door. “I wondered if you’d show up after that fuster cluck of an interview. She’s not here, and I’m concerned. I’ve called everywhere…her cell, the boutique, Lucas, and Becca. No one knows where she is.”

  “Shit.” My temples are throbbing. I’m frightened for her, too. “Where else might she be?”

  “Well, not here. I wouldn’t come home either. Not with that photographer waiting across the street.” Savannah nods toward the man with the flash going off. “I doubt she’ll want to be humiliated any more tonight. If you think dating a sports celebrity of your stature is hard, try being dumped by one.”

  I hand her Puck’s leash and weave through traffic, crossing the street. A flash blinds me and I see spots. Still, I confront the son of a bitch, who I tower over by at least five inches. “Back off. Now! Tell your boss that if you keep coming after Serena, I’ll come after you with everything I’ve got. That includes a legal team that is better than your employer can muster.”

  Puck barks. I hear her above the traffic noises and music from down the street. She can be ferocious when she wants, and she is in full-on protective mode.

  “We’re just following the story,” the guy says, almost apologetically.

  I stare at him. The story. Checking my email on my cell, there is still no response from the Nighthawks’ PR person. How much do I really not give a shit? I weigh the pros and cons of an idea that’s been percolating. If I go ahead with this, it will hurt Mike. Not the team. Not the franchise. It will also protect Serena.

  “What if an anonymous source tells you the real story?” I glare at him. “You don’t reveal your source. You never saw me. Ever. Give me your camera and your cell.”

  The guy steps back.

  “This is the story of your life, but that requires my trust. Hand over your camera and cell. You’ll make it back tenfold.” I hold my hand out. “Two seconds, or I go to someone else. It’ll be your loss.”

  He hands me his camera, then his cell. “Anything else you want? Something tells me this story is going to pay for a shit-ton of cameras and iPhones.”

  I tell him the truth…the real truth about Mike. He’ll need to prove it, but I have no doubt he will. The paparazzi are tenacious, and this guy gets off on others’ dirty laundry. It’s about time the world gets a whiff of Mike Gallagher’s.

  I’ve officially taken matters into my own hands. Let the pieces fall where they may. As long as Serena and my team are safe, I’m good. Mike will learn a new reality, and it will slam him flat on his ass. How does Serena’s song go? Sorry, but I’m not sorry.

  Chapter 18

  Serena

  Nestled into the backseat of a luxury sedan with tinted windows, I watch as the car passes my boutique. It’s vacant, the lights are off, and there are no paparazzi lurking. Still, I insist on parking behind the building and entering through the back door.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” My mom sits beside me, staring through one of the tinted windows. “I want you to be absolutely certain.”

  I’m in no mood for her disapproval. “For God’s sake, Mother, let’s drop all pretenses, okay? You’re not here out of concern for my safety or mental health. You came to toe the family line, to make sure I don’t further humiliate the family or tarnish the Ellis name. To get me to drop this hobby business of mine. To gloat. This is what I get for dating a lowly hockey player, right? Well, I’ve had it with people judging me. Not only am I’m sure I want to do this, I need to do this. It’s about damn time. I’m sorry to bring the family down, but since Dad already disinherited me, there isn’t much he can do. Except maybe join in on the social media attacks. Tell him to have at it, if he hasn’t already.”

  My mom grabs my elbow as I’m about to bolt. “Justin, may we have a moment, please?”

  I’ve never heard my mom be so nice to her driver. He does a doubletake, more surprised than me, then waits outside the car.

  “I don’t often admit that I’m wrong.” A long pause follows. Does she expect me to object? Because I won’t. My mother never admits that she’s wrong.

  “I was wrong, and you were right.” For the first time ever, my mother faces me like her equal. “You were right, Serena. That’s why I came here tonight. To help you. Because I haven’t done enough for you and it’s about time I start.”

  Slack-jawed, my snark kicks in. “Who are you and what have you done with my mother?”

  Mom laughs. A laugh like nothing I’ve ever heard from her—a true, honest-to-God belly laugh. “I deserved that. My life with your father has been about social status, about competition, about what others think. It made me miserable, and I don’t want that for you or for your brother. Lucas has found happiness. I want the same for you.”

  Holy shit. My mom has turned into a human being. All it took was my very public humiliation and a bunch of hate piled on for good measure to bring her out of her snobbish, mean-girl-induced zombie role.

  “I’m not happy. I’ve never been happy, but I didn’t fight for myself. Not like you and Lucas have.” She studies her impeccably manicured French nails. “I realized something after you left the penthouse with Christian: I admire my children and accept your choices. I also accept and love who both of you are. Because, somehow, you are everything your father and I aren’t.”

  Wow. I’m…at a loss for words. “Is this for real?” Yeah, I doubt her sincerity. This is invasion-of-the-body-snatchers shit right here.

  Mom meets my eyes, and the intensity of her stare sends chills up my spine. “I’ve been keeping up with you. Both online and through Lucas. He and I are working on making amends. I want that for you and me, too. You don’t deserve what has happened to you, but you’ve handled this so much better than I ever could. You’ve shown your true character, one I don’t possess. If you want to go ahead with this plan of yours, I will support you. I will champion you. Because no one should go through what you have and because you’re a fighter. God help me, you’ve driven me insane with your stubborn streak, but I want everyone to see how strong you are.”

  I yank her toward me in an awkward hug. My mom doesn’t hug, at least not really. It’s more of a fake, emotionless reaction. At least it usually is. Not tonight, though. She embraces me tight, until I feel like I can’t breathe. “Let’s do this.”

  “Okay.” I exit the car and unlock the back door to my boutique. Out of all the surprises tonight, including being ambushed by that bitch reporter, leave it
to my mom to be the biggest by far. I never expected such honesty from her, such emotion, let alone a pep talk.

  I turn the lock behind us and walk straight into my office, flipping the switch on my desk lamp, next to my laptop. “I need to change.”

  Yeah, I love my outfit, but don’t want to drag some innocent artist into this. What I’m about to do is going to ruffle feathers, and I need to own my opinions. This is about me being real. Confronting all that’s been said about me. I won’t bring anyone else down.

  Tonight’s interview made me realize that I must speak up, on my terms. That reporter ambushed me. There was no way in hell that I’d give her footage for days. She wanted a response, wanted the sound bite that would be repeated ad nauseum, wanted that money shot that reporters crave. I refused to give it to her.

  My life. My terms.

  I sit at my desk in a red tank, with my hair in a ponytail and no makeup. Just me. The real me. Good thing Charlie taught me how to film my own videos. He created a channel for Coeur de Serene, but I’m not using that one. No. I created my own channel for this video. This is me, no one else. And I record through my laptop camera.

  “Hi. My name is Serena Ellis and this is me. No makeup, circles under my eyes, imperfect skin, and weight issues. Then there are my relationship issues, which have made me infamous. I’m recording this video to answer questions that arose tonight when I was interviewed by a local reporter. My opinions are my own.

  “The first issue I want to address is Christian. I loved him. Still do, if I’m being honest. I have no ill will toward his team or teammates and never did or said anything to hurt the Nighthawks. Whether you believe me or not, that’s up to you. But this is the truth.

  “Now, let’s talk about my weight. I’ve struggled with not being thin enough or pretty enough for most of my life. Many of you can relate. I’m sure I’m not the only woman in the world who’s hard on herself. I’ve taken criticism regarding my body image, but have tried to own who I am and accept my flaws as being beautiful and uniquely mine. The weight I lost recently is due to stress, just like these circles under my eyes. I’ve been working day and night to salvage my business. I’ve binged on ice cream and takeout, but there are also times that I’m so wrapped up in work that I forget to eat. I haven’t abandoned my belief that size doesn’t matter. I still believe all of you, no matter what size you are, are beautiful and uniquely you.

  “Here’s the thing, though. My weight shouldn’t define me. Whoever I may or may not be dating shouldn’t define me. Those things shouldn’t define any of us. But in this world, they will if we let them. I choose not to let them define me. I hope you can, too.

  “To the young women out there who are watching this, I have a wish. That you embrace the concept that no one defines who you are but you. No man defines you. Neither does social media. Be yourself. Be fearless. Forge your own path. That’s what I’m doing with this video.

  “Tonight, I take control of my life back. To everyone who has been criticizing me: you don’t define me. I won’t give you that control. You’re entitled to your opinions, but I’m entitled to my life. And I’m reclaiming it. Starting now.

  “I’m not offering a hashtag, or making any kind of PR move here. I’m being me. A me I’m comfortable with. I will gain my weight back, so be on the lookout. I’ll continue to design clothes I believe in, even if you don’t purchase any. I will continue to support local artists because that’s what I believe in. I will also survive whatever is thrown at me because I don’t break.”

  I pause, thinking about how I wanted to survive all of this with Chris. I still want to. But I’ll do it alone. Because I must. Because I’m capable of surviving this and more. So much more. Through this whole ordeal, I’ve learned that I’m much stronger than I ever gave myself credit for.

  “Please remember that this video is just me being me—one imperfect woman setting the record straight. Thanks for your time. If you are able, be kind to yourselves and others.”

  I exhale a deep breath the moment I finish recording. It takes me a little time to make sure it’s on YouTube, then I create a personal Twitter account and post it there. Then Instagram. And lastly Facebook. I’m no longer hiding on social media. No. I’ve just raised my profile in what is possibly the biggest risk I’ve ever taken. No makeup. No hair. No pretty clothes. No snark. Nothing to hide behind.

  Slamming my laptop shut, I begin to shake. I feel naked, like I have exposed myself to the world, which I did. “Why am I so terrified right now?”

  “Because being yourself is the most frightening thing you can do.” My mom smiles at me. “I need to take some pointers from my children. You and Lucas inspire me.”

  “You want to post a video of yourself without makeup?” I point to the laptop.

  My mother shakes her head. “I’m not that brave. Not yet. But you are. What’s next?”

  Good question. One I don’t have an answer for. “Damned if I know.” There may be backlash. Hell, there’s always backlash, even when I’m innocent. People hate me. So, I move on with my life.

  A part of me wants to call Chris. Admit to what I just did. Give him a heads-up. But he wouldn’t care. He’s got his life, and I’ve got mine. Mine’s been in limbo ever since we broke up. Sure, I’ve thrown myself into work. It was self-preservation. Deep down, though, I wanted him to call, to reach out, to apologize, to come back to me. Yep. My life has been in limbo for far too long. With this night, this video, I realize that it’s time I let Chris go.

  I’m independent. This is my life, and I need to own it. It’s time for me to live it. Without Chris, or the hope of him. Though my heart still aches, I am stronger today than I was yesterday. That’s something. Something I’ll build on each and every day until the ache subsides, or I find something to replace it with.

  “I want to go home.” Rising, I stare at my closed laptop, hearing my mother’s footfalls as she crosses my office.

  She grabs me, rocking me back and forth until I’m dizzy, squeezing a little too tight. My mom really isn’t good with affection. She’s trying, though. “I’m proud of you.”

  My mother is proud of me. For the first time in my life. Hell has frozen over. I’m certain of it.

  Chapter 19

  Christian

  Lucas calls his grandmother to inform her that Serena is safe. While he’s on the line, Savannah and I watch Serena’s video. Savannah decided it was best to leave Serena alone for the time being, certain she’ll come home when she’s ready. She also failed to mention to Lucas that I’m at Serena’s place.

  Once she disconnects the call, I ask, “Why did you keep me a secret?”

  Savannah waves my question off with her hand. “He would have flagged a cab and headed straight over here to confront you. But, you don’t need that.”

  I almost—almost—believe she’s on my side. Until she adds, “I’ll give you enough hellfire to scare you shitless. This is your second chance, Mr. Chase. Don’t you dare hurt Serena again. Or you will answer to me.”

  “After what I just witnessed in this video, Serena doesn’t need anyone’s protection.” She’s strong and brave. She can handle herself. “That’s where I went wrong. Believing that I was protecting her by breaking things off. I made things worse, for both of us.”

  My voice is unusually gruff, filled with regret mingled with desperation. “I need to see her. Before everything gets worse, I need to set the record straight.”

  Savannah grabs my arm. “Sit your ass down and decide how you’re going to handle this when she gets home. Serena deserves time to herself. She’s earned it.” Before adding, “My girl is back.”

  Yeah, Serena is back. She was confident and honest. She was sweet yet tough. She’s the woman I love. I tap my index finger uncontrollably, my mind refusing to switch off, the worry that she’s no longer in love with me sending me into full-blown panic mode.
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  “You need a drink before you launch off that sofa.” Savannah pulls a bottle of vodka from the freezer.

  The front door slams against the wall. “I love rum.” Serena’s mother stumbles inside, as Serena catches her.

  Wrapping her arm around her mother’s waist, Serena tries to right the woman. “Whoa! Steady. Apparently, you can’t handle one glass of it.”

  “Has hell frozen over?” Savannah shouts from the kitchen. “What is she doing here?”

  Kathryn laughs. “Hi, Ma. I didn’t know you’d be here.”

  “ ‘Ma’?” A look of horror washes over Savannah. “What’s wrong with her?” She’s currently scrutinizing her daughter-in-law as if the woman has the plague.

  “I’ve seen the light. Your son is a pompous jerk, and I love rum.” Kathryn sways.

  “Okay, calm down.” Serena eases her mom to a stool at the kitchen island, unaware that I’m here. Sitting on her sofa. Studying her with such a clash of emotions that I think I may combust.

  She’s even thinner in person. Which sends my panic to another level. Because it’s my fault. I should have stuck it out with her. I should never have taken it upon myself to dictate her future. I robbed her of a voice in our relationship. It’s my fault. I just hope I get a second chance.

  “Yes, Savannah, hell has frozen over.” Kathryn coughs. “I’m leaving your son, my daughter is a badass, and I heard alcohol has calories, so we went to a bar. I’m trying to fatten my baby girl up.”

  “Fatten her up? What is she, a prized pig?” Savannah eyes her daughter-in-law like she is criminally insane.

  Serena laughs. “Mother has a way with words. Just go with it. Besides, it was one drink. Mom insisted on rum.”

  “Jack Sparrow loves the stuff.” Serena’s mother rests her head on the counter. “I feel dizzy.”

  “Guest room.” Serena offers her mom a hand, but Savannah steps in.

  “No, the pirate wench will go home with me. How did you two party girls get here?” Savannah grabs her purse.