Fire and Ice (Sticks & Hearts Book 2)

by Rhonda James

  The camera then panned over the street and came to rest on a white farmhouse that had a yellow and white antique swing on the front porch.

  I recognized that house.

  I knew that swing.

  Mom and I had sat on that very swing that morning, laughing at something funny my dad had said.

  My gaze shifted to the people in the room and recognition finally sank in.

  The house on TV was my house.

  The victims were my parents.

  The woman who died in that car had been Felicia Dixon. My mother.

  It wasn’t some crazy dream I’d been caught up in. It was real life, and it was really happening.

  Then I remember thinking, why me?

  That fateful evening took place exactly two years ago today.

  ***

  Cedar County Correctional Facility is an hour away from Ann Arbor, but that didn’t stop me from making the trek twice a month for the last five months.

  The room I’m taken to is no bigger than my dorm room. The walls are made of cinder block, painted white, and the only adornment is a small wall clock, hanging near the ceiling and covered by a metal cage. The concrete floor is painted grey, and in the center of the room sits a small table with three chairs surrounding it. Two on one side. One on the other. The fact the table and chairs are permanently affixed isn’t lost on me.

  It’s a little chilly in here and I’m thankful for the GLU sweatshirt I thought to grab on my way out the door. I take a seat on the side with two chairs, glancing quickly at the time before focusing my attention on the door located directly across from me.

  Then I wait for movement on the other side of the door. I don’t have to wait long. The handle turns and my body goes rigid, expecting to hear the same thing I heard every other time I’ve been here. My heart races when I see the man stepping through the door.

  “I’m surprised you finally agreed to see me,” I tell him, my voice not sounding like my own.

  “Yeah, well, I figured it was easier this way. Figured you’d just keep coming until you heard it directly from me,” he states flatly.

  “Heard what, exactly?” I narrow my eyes in question, already knowing I’m not going to like what he’s about to say.

  “I don’t want you coming here anymore. It’s a long drive and that car’s not in the best of shape. You need to forget the past. Forget about me and start living your own life.”

  I wonder if he even remembers what today is?

  I sit up taller and look him directly in the eye, noting how much he’s changed since arriving here. How very little of himself reminds me of the man I once knew. The man I used to think could shoulder any trouble. The same man who used to be my hero. The man who gave up on life.

  Gave up on me.

  Prisoner M-3872466.

  James Dixon.

  My father.

  “You know I can’t do that. Why would you even suggest it?” I ask, my voice thick with contempt.

  “I’m a selfish man. I allowed my grief and shame to turn into hate. That hatred cost me my freedom and left you alone. For that, I’m sorry. But I’m not sorry for what I did. You’re a young woman. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. I don’t want you wasting your time coming to see me. That’s not fair to you. It’s time for you to move on.”

  “Do you think that’s what Mom would have wanted?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

  “Honestly, I don’t know,” he replies, sounding defeated.

  “That’s bullshit, and you know it!” I smack my palm on the table.

  He scrubs a hand over his tired face and releases a long sigh. “What do you want from me, Delaney? You sit there looking at me as if I’m going to swoop down and save the day. I hate to break it to you, but that’s not gonna happen. I can’t be your superhero anymore. Sorry, kid.” He pushes away from the table and stands to leave.

  “They’re gonna take the house,” I blurt out. “I’m killing myself trying to raise enough money to save it. I promise I won’t give up.”

  His shoulders visibly sag as the weight of my words sinks in. I’m hopeful he’ll sit back down and tell me what I should do to prevent this from happening. He and Mom built that house with their own two hands. Surely, he’ll tell me to fight for it, which is what I’ve been doing. But time is running out. I have less than thirty days to come up with another twenty thousand dollars.

  “Let ‘em take it. There’s nothing left worth holding on to,” he murmurs then turns and steps through the door. Leaving me in shock.

  At the time of his incarceration, he still owed over a hundred thousand dollars on the mortgage. Most of that debt came after Mom’s death and Dad being in the hospital for four months while he underwent multiple surgeries and skin grafts. Seeing as how he was unable to work, he ended up losing most of his customers and ultimately had to shut down his construction business. He and Mom had some money put away, and he had the money from Mom’s insurance policy, but the bills kept piling up, and pretty soon that money was gone. The house was the one thing he’d clung to. The last piece of her he had left. Mom loved that house.

  Matthew Templeton, a childhood friend of my dad’s, is the president of a small independent bank in town. On good faith, and because he hated to see Dad and me lose our home after all we’d been through, he let Dad take out a lien on the house. That was a little over a year ago. And before the bottom dropped out on the other half of my world.

  Dad getting arrested for drunk driving didn’t come as much of a surprise. When they released him from the hospital after his last surgery, he went home to an empty house. His wife was dead. Aunt Kelly came and took me back to her house in Atlanta, because she was worried I would go crazy in the house alone with my memories. Dad couldn’t take it. He started drinking, heavily, and soon that was how he filled his days. The house was left in disrepair. The yard was overgrown. Dad was never home.

  What none of us knew was that Dad was spending his days trying to locate the man who was responsible for Mom’s death. He became obsessed with finding him. But not to confront him. He wanted to kill him.

  Dad was stone cold sober the night he found Gerald Vance. In fact, he remained sober right up until the moment the bullet pierced Mr. Vance’s brain.

  Sober, but not stable.

  Not by a long shot.

  The patrol car found Dad two hours later, parked outside the liquor store. Two empty bottles of vodka were on the floorboard, and Dad was passed out cold in the front seat with a loaded gun in his lap.

  Dad’s trial was executed quickly, and six months ago, he was sentenced to fifteen years in prison and taken away on the day of my twenty-first birthday.

  And that’s when everything fell on my shoulders.

  That was the reason I started stripping.

  It wasn’t glamorous, but the pay was more than five times what I could earn anywhere else. I was determined to keep my home. Dad may have already let go, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to give up that easily.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  DEREK

  One day. One flight.

  That’s all that stands between Laney and me.

  My flight leaves tomorrow morning at ten. Tonight, I’ll throw an overnight bag in the truck so that right after practice all I’ll need to do is grab a quick shower before heading to the airport. I texted my flight info to Laney last night, just so she’d know when to expect me. I also told her I wanted her waiting in the hotel room dressed only in lingerie. She laughed and reminded me this weekend was supposed to be about kissing and cuddling. I told her I could work with that, or work around it. Believe me, I have my ways. I can be very charming.

  Right now, I am at the gym working out with Cage. We don’t have a game scheduled this weekend, but that doesn’t mean we get to slack off. Coach worked us hard at practice yesterday. The starting forwards spent the morning working on various 3v1 and high tempo drills, while the second and third lines focused more of their time on checking. When we finis
hed those, he had us dive straight into dump and chase drills, just for kicks. Needless to say, once we skated off the ice, my muscles were thankful for the thirty-minute shower I took to help loosen them.

  “Spot me?” Cage calls from across the room. I give him a chin tip, indicating I’ll be there when I’m finished.

  I count out my last set then swing my body out from under the leg press.

  “What are you benching today?” I ask walking over to the set of weights displayed on the shelf behind him.

  He grabs a plate from the shelf, and we rack them simultaneously. “Two-twenty-five. Coach caught me benching more the other day and reamed my ass. He’s worried I’ll fuck my hand up if I push it,” he grumbles.

  “How does it feel?” My gaze drops to the injured hand, seeing no sign of the injuries sustained during the fight that occurred two weeks ago.

  “Perfectly fine.” He flexes his hand a few times as if to prove he isn’t lying. “You know how Coach is.”

  “He’s just protecting his asset. Maybe I should knock it down to two, just to be safe.

  “You do and I’ll kick your ass,” he threatens, but I let it go and keep the weight where it is.

  “I noticed Cassie stayed over again last night,” I mention casually as he settles on the bench, hoping to temper his anger.

  He presses out the first three in the set, then pauses. “That a problem?”

  “Not at all. I like having her around. It helps balance out all the testosterone in the house.”

  “That’s good, ‘cause she’s probably gonna be around a lot more. I hate having her in the dorms, and she hates having to share a bathroom.”

  I can’t keep from laughing. “Well, now she has to share a bathroom with your ugly ass, so I’m failing to see how this is an improvement.”

  “Fuck you, asshole,” he grunts.

  “You know you love me,” I razz him.

  When the first set is finished, he starts in on the next.

  “How many sets you aiming for?” I watch his form carefully, checking for any sign of a struggle, finding none.

  “Just two. If I push it, Coach will bench me for being a hardass.” We count off the last few reps and rack the bar.

  I clap him on the back as we switch positions. “It’s good seeing you and Cassie are doing so well. I’m happy for you, buddy.”

  “Yeah, well, I told you the mushy stuff gets them every time,” he smiles knowingly. “You sticking with this weight, or you want me to take some off?”

  “Nah, add another twenty-five, so I can show your weak ass how it’s done.”

  He flips me off before racking the additional weights. I knock out three sets, throwing in the extra one just to piss him off before we head for the showers.

  It’s snowing when we cross the parking lot and each climb into the cab of our truck.

  I turn over the engine and crank up the heater before rolling down the window to get his attention. “You going to class?”

  “No,” he shakes his head as a devilish grin appears on his lips. “I need to take care of something back at the house. I’ll catch you later.”

  “Yeah, okay, man.” I laugh and shake my own head, knowing full well what’s waiting for him back at the house.

  “Hey, Davis,” he calls to me as I’m rolling up the window. “The guys and I are taking your ass out tonight for birthday drinks, so make sure you’re home and ready to go by seven.”

  “Yes, Sir,” I mock salute him and drive off in the opposite direction.

  Knowing these guys, and based on past birthday celebrations, I’m probably in for a long night at Skeeps. Good thing they pour a strong drink, ‘cause I’ve got a feeling that’s the only way I’ll get any sleep tonight.

  ***

  I’m in the house alone, and I’ve got three hours to kill before I head out with the guys. I pick up the phone, thinking the sound of her voice will fill the emptiness, but as I start to dial, I realize it’s not just her voice I need. I need to see her face. Watch her body while she falls apart beneath her own touch.

  Fuck it, I tell myself, then press the key to start a video call with her.

  Three rings go by, and I’m just about to hang up when she answers, looking sweaty, out of breath, and sexy as fuck.

  “You better have a damn good reason for this video call, because right now, I’m all hot and sweaty.” She glares into the phone, and I can’t help laughing. It looks as if she’s on a treadmill or something.

  “Baby, you should know by now hot and sweaty is my favorite look on you.” I prop my phone beside me and position myself on the bed.

  “Oh god. It’s true. You really are desperate.” She sticks the tip of her pink tongue out at me, and I pretend I’m trying to bite it. Her throaty laugh goes straight to my balls and my eyes are glued to the screen as she steps off the treadmill and grabs a towel to dab away some of the sweat. “You know, I’m going to be in your arms in less than fifteen hours. Why the sudden need to see me?”

  “Fifteen hours is too fucking long. I needed to see you now.” I stretch out an arm beneath my head and give her my best smile. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

  She shakes her head. By the movement around her, I can tell she’s walking.

  “Where are you?”

  “In my house, and right now I’m heading toward the bathroom. I’ve had a shit day and am in desperate need of a shower.” I see her reach in a small closet and pull out a towel.

  I cringe inwardly, because I’ve never been in a relationship. I’m normally the guy girls lean on when they need a friend. I’m great at that. You say a few words to make them feel better and move on. But something tells me words won’t be enough in this situation. Laney’s my girl, and right now, she needs me, so I better bring my A-game and do something to take her mind off all the shit that’s bringing her down.

  “Sounds like my timing is perfect, then.” I waggle my brows at the screen, doing my best to make her smile.

  It works. Sorta.

  “Oh, no. This is as far as you go, Ace. You’ll have to wait until tomorrow to see any of this.” She motions a hand over her hot, toned body.

  “Come on, Pookie,” I say in my sexiest voice, throwing in the nickname, because I love calling her that. She pretends to hate it, but I know she secretly loves it. The look on her face at this moment just proves it. “The thought of you naked and wet has already made me rock hard. Please, let me watch.”

  She goes quiet, and by the look on her face I can tell she’s seriously considering it. I knew it may be a long shot, but I had to ask. Hell, we’ve already swapped naked selfies through multiple texts. I’ve listened to her panting through an orgasm when we masturbated while talking on the phone. This seems like the next logical step. Besides, I’m horny as fuck, and at this point, even a brief glimpse of her ass may be enough to make me blow my wad.

  The phone shifts in her hand, and pretty soon I’m staring at a glass shower door. The back of her head comes into view as she turns on the water and adjusts the temperature. She moves in front of the shower, her back still facing me. Leaning forward, she drags the Lycra shorts down her legs then kicks them off to the side. She’s wearing a pair of skimpy red panties that mold against the round globes of her perfect ass. My dick presses painfully against my briefs, as if remembering how great it felt to drag the tip through that crease of her ass. Her arms crisscross in front of her, and her top is slowly lifted over her head. She wastes no time removing the sports bra and depositing it on the floor next to her.

  The room is starting to steam up, and I’m worried I won’t be able to see her if it gets much worse. I don’t want to miss any of this.

  “Babe, do you have an exhaust fan? Or maybe you can crack the door?” I ask hopefully.

  With a hand covering each breast, she steps away from the camera, and I hear a door open. She comes back into view and lifts one arm to open the shower door. Just before stepping in, she casts a glance over her right shoulder and bites down
on her lower lip. The growling sound it elicits brings a wicked smile to her face. She knows what she’s doing to me.

  “Can you still see me?” she asks as water cascades down her body. I can’t take it any longer. I kick off my shorts and grasp the base of my shaft.

  “I can, but maybe leave the door open just a crack, that way I don’t miss a single thing.” I blow out a ragged breath and slowly begin stroking my aching cock.

  “What are you doing over there?” She peeks her head out the door, and her pretty mouth curves down into an adorable pout. “That’s no fair. You get to watch me. I want to watch you too.”

  I prop my phone against a pillow beside my leg and drag my hand up one side of my cock and back down the other, circling the tip with my thumb to spread the pre-cum that’s seeped out.

  “God, that’s so hot.” She looks directly into the phone and props her foot along one side of the tub, widening the opening between her legs to afford me a better view. Her small fingers locate the tiny bud between her folds and dance over it with a quick circling motion.

  I quickly change positions so she can see both me and my cock, then resume jacking off. Our eyes meet as we race to the finish line.

  “Together,” I command hoarsely and she nods, biting down hard on her lip as she quickens her pace.

  I hear voices downstairs, but do my best to tune them out, choosing to keep all my focus on my impending release.

  “Fuck, baby. I’m almost there. You close?” I pump faster, and our eyes lock as she rocks forward, giving me an eyeful of metal and gleaming, wet pussy.