Breaking the Ice by Esme Taylor

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Hettie

It had been a month since Reid pushed that dark blue file into my hands and threw me out with no explanation. One month since he’d held me, kissed me, or made love to me. One month since I’d felt complete.

While many things had changed in that month, there was one thing that was exactly the same: I still missed him so much it physically hurt. My body longed for him, like the addict it had become.

Each night, I would wake from dreams about him being here with me, and each time, I would physically recoil when I found the bed empty and cold beside me. Having his enormous presence in my life, even if only for a brief time, made everything in my life feel like it didn’t fit me properly anymore. It was as if I needed him to balance out the world around me. I had trusted him with my heart, my body, and my soul, but he hadn’t even given me a chance.

I’d thought a lot about that day. Reid was so angry, accusing me of looking for information. At the time, it hadn’t sunk in, but now, looking back, I realized the only information I had been looking for was on Spenser Johansson.

During my research, I’d stumbled upon a Private Investigator that specialized in finding people who didn’t want to be found. After running my idea by Lewis, he agreed that I could hire him. Just before Reid ended it with me, I had emailed the PI and asked him to take the case.

Naturally, the reporter in me guessed that Reid’s past was in some way linked with Spenser’s. How? I wasn’t quite sure. And even though Reid had given me the file, which he claimed included all of his secrets, I refused to open it. It wasn’t my place. If he wanted me to know about his past, I wanted it to come from him. Not some file he thought I was after. So, the file sat, unread, hidden from the world.

Just as I’d expected, the PI came up empty-handed. Still, Lewis thought we had enough to write a story about Spenser and his connections to our North East corner of England. But I felt bad. Just like Reid, this man wanted to remain hidden from the world for a reason. And I didn’t want to be the one to out him, so I refused to write the story.

Lewis reminded me that it was my job. I reminded him that my job was actually writing about weddings, parties, and funerals. In the end, regardless of how much I loved the people I worked with, I didn’t want to be that person. I didn’t want to be the one who laid people out for public consumption. So, I handed in my notice and I left two weeks later.

Since then, I’d done nothing but lay on the sofa, watching way too much daytime TV and eating my feelings. I knew I should have been worried about money and getting a job, but without Reid the world just felt so empty and pointless.

As I lay on the sofa watching housewives argue on a TV program, I remembered the package that had come earlier. I reached over to the nearby side table and grabbed it, ripping it open. I was surprised and confused to find the new Spenser Johansson book inside. Confused because I hadn’t ordered it, and surprised because I didn’t think it was being released for another few weeks.

I looked over the cover and was struck by an odd sense of familiarity. It appeared to be dusk and a large grove of trees stood in the distance, rays of light peering through the branches, which were quietly reflected in the large icy lake.

Appropriately titled, Breaking the Ice, I flipped it over to read the blurb.

Trapped beneath the ice is a man who believes he deserves to be punished for his past. Above the ice is a goddess who believes in redemption.

Can their love for one another conquer the storm before one of them is destroyed forever?

I wanted to be excited by it, but my heart just wasn’t in it. I was just about to throw the book on the table when something told me to open it. Imagine my surprise when I found a handwritten note on the first page.

Etta,

I can’t say I understand what happened between us, but thank you for seeing the man beneath the ice and for believing I was worthy of warming up.

Reid

As I read it, questions ran through my mind like a stampede of angry wildebeest. Why would Reid send me Spenser Johansson’s book? Especially after everything that happened. Was I right in my thinking that they were somehow connected by their pasts? And what is with the ice reference? What does that have to do with me––with us? Does he want to talk to me and try to make things right?

Before I could stop myself, I grabbed my phone and texted him.

ME:Did you send me a book by Spenser Johansson? If so, thank you. But I’m confused. Want to explain?

Three dots appeared and a few seconds later a text followed.

VIKING: You don’t have to play dumb anymore, Hettie. You’ve read my file. I get it. You know everything.

ME:Whatever you think I did, or didn’t do, I DID NOT read the file you gave me. They’re your secrets to tell and I don’t want to know them unless you want to tell me.

VIKING:What?

VIKING:Everything you did was for that file. Why didn’t you read it?

ME:Everything I did? What are you talking about?

VIKING:The lies. You lied to me for that file.

ME: I’ve didn’t lied to you about anything. Everything I said, everything I did, everything I felt––it was all real. I love you. I miss you. I’m miserable without you. You didn’t even tell me what I was meant to have done.

VIKING: Fuck, Etta, I’m so confused. I need to go and check something. Can we meet in the morning? If I got this wrong, I promise that I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you.

I set my phone on the coffee table and reached for the book again, staring at the writing on the back. No matter how many times I read it I was no clearer about what was going on. But for the first time in a month, I felt a flicker of something a bit like hope.