Cold As Ice

by Paige, Violet

  Cold As Ice

  Violet Paige

  Head Over Heels Press

  Copyright © 2020 by Violet Paige

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Also by Violet Paige

  1. Jack

  2. Jack

  3. Noelle

  4. Jack

  5. Noelle

  6. Jack

  7. Noelle

  8. Jack

  9. Noelle

  10. Jack

  11. Noelle

  12. Jack

  13. Noelle

  14. Jack

  15. Noelle

  16. Jack

  17. Noelle

  18. Jack

  19. Noelle

  20. Noelle

  21. Jack

  22. Noelle

  23. Jack

  24. Noelle

  25. Jack

  26. Noelle

  27. Jack

  28. Noelle

  29. Jack

  30. Jack

  31. Noelle

  32. Jack

  33. Noelle

  34. Jack

  35. Noelle

  36. Jack

  Epilogue

  Cold As Hell Preview

  Keep in touch with Violet

  Also by Violet Paige

  Cold Love Hockey Series

  Cold As Puck

  Cold As Hell

  Cold As Ice

  Football Romance

  Turn Over

  Sidelined

  Dirty Play

  Double Score

  Royal Romance

  Tempting the Crown

  Risking the Crown

  Loving the Crown

  Billionaire Romance

  Don’t Go

  Not Husband Material

  Not Daddy Material

  The Dirtiest Deal

  The Hottest Deal

  Military Romance

  Don’t Tell

  Don’t Lie

  Don’t Promise

  Ranger’s Baby Surprise

  Delta’s Baby Surprise

  Sweet Satisfaction

  Suspense

  Resist

  Surrender

  1

  Jack

  I loved the smell of ice. The purity of it. The way it forced its way up my nose and into my lungs, like it should live there. The crispness. The unapologetic way it invaded everything in its path. The way it burned and forged a place in my veins.

  There was only one other thing that came close to the way ice made me feel. One other sensation as cutting and consuming.

  I didn’t remember the first time I laced up hockey skates or when my blades cut into the smooth surface of the rink. It was always a part of my life. As if ice was in my DNA. Sounds fucking nuts, I know. Like I’m Jack Frost.

  But I wasn’t Jack Frost. Far from it. I wasn’t invincible. I wasn’t immune to pain. My bones weren’t sculpted from steel or carved out of magical snowflakes. In fact, they were as human as anyone else’s. Which is why when I was pinned against the glass, I could hold off the first blow, the second, and even the third. But the fourth, from a two-hundred fifty-pound ogre twisted my body until my leg was wound behind my shoulder and I heard the snap.

  Everyone in the arena heard it. At least the way the silence hushed the fans made it seem as if they did. I crumpled, trying to hide the paid. Trying to steal another few minutes on the ice when I was still a hockey player.

  I didn’t want them to haul me off the ice. But as they replayed the final hit on repeat overhead on the jumbotron, I knew like the rest of the team that I was dead weight. My season was over. It would take a miracle to ever come back.

  There was a problem when they slid me into the back of the ambulance over the muffled roar of the crowd inside the arena. I wasn’t the kind of man who believed in miracles.

  If you knew what I had lived through. What I had survived, you wouldn’t believe in miracles either.

  2

  Jack

  The slap on the back surprised me, enough for me to jerk my head sideways. I thought I was alone in the gym’s back room. I didn’t bother with the lights when I walked in. A slight drizzle trailed along the windows. The gloom outside cast a pervasive gray film through the glass as if it was hanging from the ceiling. I didn’t fish my earbuds out of my gym bag. I’d walked in and started the session. Focused. Determined. Alone.

  The athletic shorts I wore barely grazed the bottom of my kneecap, enough to cover the scar on my thigh. It was an angry red line now that the stitches had healed. I was glad I was finished with the bandages and the regular checkups. But the reminder was visible, nonetheless.

  I looked at up as Eddie withdrew his hand from my shoulder.

  “You started without me.”

  “I wanted to get in as much time as I could today.” I clenched my jaw, working through the tightness in my quad.

  “Amazing recovery,” he remarked. “You’re kicking ass, Novak. Trying to get me to hand you a gold star?” He chuckled quietly.

  “Thanks. Don’t need a star.” I didn’t want to grimace in front of him. It would prompt him to tell me to back off. My leg throbbed. I gritted my teeth as I dipped into another squat. It took my full concentration to put pressure on both feet and not favor my good leg.

  “Why don’t you slow down? It’s not a race.” He saw the bead of sweat roll along my neck.

  I ignored him. I was halfway through the set. My eyes settled on the puddles outside, crystalizing with ice. It was hard to tell if time was standing still or if everything was accelerated. Ever since my surgery I lived in a weird state where both happened at once. I couldn’t get back on the ice fast enough. I didn’t have enough time to rehab.

  “You’re going to hook me up with tickets for your first game back?” The physical therapist folded his arms across his chest and watched me suffer through another set. “It won’t be long now before you’re skating with the team. I told my girlfriend I’d take her to see you play a game this season. She’s psyched. Huge fan.”

  I wiped my brow, brushing my hair off my damp forehead. It was longer than I usually wore it. “Depends how far you’re willing to travel with her.” I hadn’t planned on breaking the news to him this way.

  “What are you talking about?” He pushed off the wall. I glared at him when his finger reached toward the light switch. I liked the gray and the darkness. He backed away from the switch. “Are you on the schedule for an away game? That’s great news. What’s that timeframe look like? A few weeks? Probably looking at a month if I had to guess.”

  I shook my head. “I’m not going to play with the Ice this season. They’re trading me.” I couldn’t believe I said it out loud. Worse, I couldn’t believe the first person I told was my PT coach.

  “What?” He tugged on the towel around his neck. “But you’re almost done with your rehab. Your leg is ready to get onto the team trainers schedule. That doesn’t make any sense. You’ve been working your ass off, man. They can’t do that. The Ice can use you. You’re the best defenseman they’ve got. I’ve been ready to hand you over to their training team any day.”

  “Was their best defenseman,” I corrected him.

  It had been three months since I’d been hauled off the ice by my teammates. I had to wait two full months before I could put any kind of substantial weight on my leg. Eddie had worked with me from the first day I had the green light to train. I knew he felt invested in my progress.

  Since moving to the States I’d only played for one team, the Mil
waukee Ice. This was home.

  “It’s part of the game,” I tried to explain. “Salary caps, you know the story. It happens all the time.” It did happen all the time, but it had never happened to me. I thought I could play my entire career for the Ice. It was a bullshit dream that exploded the instant I was plowed into the wall. I pushed to standing and took a water break. I wanted to start another set, but my leg was practically growling for me to sit down. “There are two rookies they want to bring on. Two for the price of one.”

  “Where are you going to go?” Eddie didn’t strike me as a crier until this moment.

  “I don’t know.” I had become a risk for the team. A risk, the Milwaukee Ice wasn’t willing to take. My agent, Sam, called two days ago to let me know the news. Since then I’d focused on my leg. I had to get back to full strength if I was going to prove to another team they should pick me up.

  I didn’t want to drop down to the minor leagues. I didn’t want to stop playing hockey. It kept me in America. Hockey held a lot of the pieces of my life in place. I didn’t want to think about a life that included anything else. I grabbed a foam roller from the rack and placed it on the side of my leg as I maneuvered into a side plank on the floor. I worked as if Eddie wasn’t there.

  The therapist kneeled in front of me. “You don’t have to push yourself like this.” His eyes followed my knee to my ankle. “You know there’s a price to pay if you go too fast. You’ve got to let your body tell you when it’s time.”

  “I’ll make it time,” I grumbled, sliding back and forth over the roller. It hurt like hell, but everything I did pushed my comfort level into pain. I knew the hard work was going to pay off, at least I believed that to be true until I found out I was being traded.

  “How long do you have?” he asked.

  “I’m supposed to hear something by the end of the day.”

  “That’s fast.”

  “Once a decision has been made then it’s all about the paperwork.” I was a business asset to ownership to be sold or traded, a bargaining chip to build their team’s value. I knew it was part of the game, but I hadn’t gotten used to it. I tried to stay out of the front office.

  “We can still work together until you move, right?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. That would be great.” We probably only had a few days. Moves occurred quickly.

  “All right. Let’s get you ready for the next team. The Ice are going to regret this trade. I can promise you that. They are going to beg you to come back. I know it.” Eddie stood tall and I knew he was trying to think of a way to distract me.

  I admired that about Eddie. He took bad news and spun it into something positive. Something he could work with. I wondered how many times a day he did that with his clients. People who came to him unable to walk, like I did. People who had lost mobility in a shoulder or an elbow. And there was Eddie, lean and muscular with a big goofy grin ready to map out a plan that would turn it all around.

  I needed that kind of optimism. I was never built that way. I didn’t know how people like Eddie were equipped with hope and sunshine. I relied on the only things I knew I could count on. The only thing I could control. Me.

  “All right, man, let’s stretch.” Eddie moved into a lunge. “You’ve got this. I know you’re going to end up somewhere great. Somewhere that needs you more than the Ice do.”

  Like I said, he was always sunshine and rainbows.

  3

  Noelle

  I twisted one plat over the over until I had enough of a tail to fasten the end over my shoulder. With a quick snap the messy braid was finished. My long dark hair required a lot of attention. It was a tradeoff I accepted for keeping it long. I tapped my bare ring finger over my cheek. My skin was pale and there were circles under my eyes. I was tired. Exhausted from running from one place to another, with barely room to breathe, much less sit still. I turned off the bathroom light and walked to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

  It was my night off. The second one this week. It should have felt like a relief, but instead I felt the tug to be doing more. Somehow, staying at home for a night felt as if I wasn’t trying hard enough. I was willing to sacrifice good skin and dark circles if it meant I didn’t have to worry about every damn little thing.

  I spied the stack of bills on the counter and the registration form for camp, lying on the table. I had filled in each line front and back. My signature was scrawled across the bottom along with a copy of our insurance card. The only thing missing was the payment. A pit opened up in my stomach. I didn’t know if there would be another camp after this one. I wasn’t sure how I justified paying for this one. I didn’t know how to keep up with all the extras.

  Hockey. Why was hockey the sport Phoebe wanted to play? It had to be the most expensive sport in Richmond. She was on the Ice Puppies team. Cute. Not cheap.

  The NHL team, the Virginia Dire Wolves, started junior and tot leagues in the city years ago. It was an outreach program to encourage families to get excited and support hockey. One skate birthday party on a Saturday afternoon and Phoebe became fixated on hockey.

  “What’s for dinner, Mommy?” My six-year-old skipped into the kitchen wearing a Wonder Woman cape and humming a song from Frozen. She stopped mid-skip in front of the table. “Is that for the Ice Puppies?” Her eyes lit up. “It is. It is. It is.” She had spotted the hockey league’s logo at the top of the page.

  I nodded. “Yes. I’m working on it.” I gathered the form and folded it under the mail.

  “I can go, right? I’m going. I want to skate. I’m going, right, Mommy? Right?”

  “I know, Phoebe. You’re exited. I’m going to take care of it. Don’t worry. Why don’t you straighten up your room before dinner?” I dropped a kiss on the top of her head before opening the freezer. Once a month I stock-piled meals for the nights I didn’t have the energy or time to cook. This was one of those nights.

  “But what are we eating?”

  I had already burned through my prepped meals in two weeks. The one remaining was a container of chili. I held the bowl toward her, peeling back the lid. She scrunched her nose at the frozen beans and sausage.

  I sighed. “Sorry. Let me see if I can find something else to go with it. Okay?”

  Her blue eyes turned upward. It was one of the only traits we shared. Phoebe had light hair and skin in direct opposition to my olive complexion. Sometimes when we were at the park or the library I was mistaken for her babysitter. The embarrassing mistake was almost always followed up by an apology and a quick comment about how Phoebe must take after her father. I abruptly changed the subject and scooted away.

  But her eyes were mine. It felt as if I was staring into tiny blue mirrors that shimmered with aquamarine. I wondered if she saw her reflection when I tucked her in or washed her hair. Maybe when she was older, she would see it.

  “Go. I’ll call you when dinner is ready,” I instructed, shooing her out of the kitchen. She left as the cape caught the breeze from her stride and fluttered in her wake. She trusted me to make something she’d eat. A meal that wasn’t tomato-based. I groaned when I took a peek inside the pantry. It was as dismal as the freezer.

  When had I become this kind of mother? When had I decided that it was okay to wing it like this?

  I heard footsteps. “Phoebe, I told you—” I stopped when I saw my brother Cal standing in the doorway. He was dressed in a pair of khaki pants and a light blue button-up shirt.

  “Don’t you knock?” I questioned.

  “Don’t you lock your door?” he retorted. “When you get home, lock the door behind you. Okay?”

  “I didn’t know you were stopping by or I would have pretended to go through all the security checks.”

  “I’m serious. It’s not safe.”

  “This is a great neighborhood. The only person whoever walks in unannounced is you.”

  “You are a single mother. Come on. Be smart about it.” I didn’t like the implication that I was somehow more vulnerable because I w
asn’t coupled off like my friends, or the possibility that Phoebe made me a particular target. But I’d spin myself into a ball of yarn if I tried to argue those points with him.

  Cal stared at the frozen dish of chili defrosting on the counter. “Is that what’s for dinner?”

  “Maybe.”

  “What’s going on? You look like shit.” He eyed my jogging pants and slouchy sweatshirt.

  I rolled my eyes at him. “Thanks. I’m in for the night.”

  “I see that.”

  I didn’t expect him to understand my life. Between my two older brothers, Cal was the less sensitive sibling. Daniel was the one I called if I need to talk through something. Cal was the fixer. He was the brother who knocked out a wall and replumbed the shower.

  “That’s what I’m here for.” He grinned as I slugged him in the shoulder.

  I stared at him. “But really, why are you here? Unannounced,” I repeated.

  He opened the fridge and reached for a beer behind the juice boxes. “Daniel said I should stop by and see if you need anything.”

  “Need anything? Like what?”

  Cal shrugged. “I don’t know.” He looked around the kitchen. “Just that you’re going through some stuff. He said you might need some help from us. I told him I’d stop by on my way home from work.”