Breaking the Ice by Esme Taylor
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Hettie
I laid in bed watching him sleep, his face relaxed and body at ease. Usually, when he slept, he looked as if he were coiled and ready to leap at the slightest noise. But not tonight. Tonight, he was at peace.
I softly ran my hand over the tattoo on his chest. Looking at it now, it seemed ironic that there was a crack in the ice from the bullet wound. I get it now and what he said about it reminding him which way was up. It’s his way of making sure he never gets lost under the ice again and a way to keep the memory of his family close to his heart.
Quietly easing myself from the bed, I headed down to the kitchen to make some tea. While I waited for the kettle to boil, I remembered there was one last thing in Reid’s office that I hadn’t had a chance to look at.
Spenser Johansson’s newest book. The one Reid had sent me the day of my abduction.
Book and freshly made cup of tea in hand, I wandered into the new library Reid had shown me last night and flipped on the lights, setting them to their dimmest setting. I placed my tea on the nearby table and curled up on the beautiful window seat, pulling a soft comforter over me.
As I stared at the cover, I realized I’d spent months trying to find information on this man. And the entire time, he was right in front of me. That’s when something clicked.
Days before he’d dumped me, I’d asked a private investigator to look into Spenser. I’d given him permission to search for anything he could find. Reid believed I was onto him, that I had worked out he was Spenser Johansson, and that I was trying to get the story on his past. He assumed I knew about the money, the ‘Ice Boy’ headlines, and the fact his family had died. He believed I’d used him to get more information about his past and that didn’t love him.
No wonder he had hated me.
I sipped my tea and opened it up to the first page and began reading Breaking the Ice.
◆◆◆
I didn’t know how much time had passed, but I could see the sun peering through the windows and my beautiful man was staring at me from the doorway, in only his shorts, a look of worry upon his face.
“Etta, what’s wrong? You weren’t in bed and now I find you in here sobbing. Is it the file? Have you decided it’s just too much? I get it, I really do, but––”
I reached up and touched my face, not realizing that I’d been crying. “This book, Reid––this book is about us.” He bit his lip, suddenly looking more like a nervous little boy.
He nodded. “That morning, in the coffee shop, I was working on my latest book when I saw you.” He strolled across the room and slipped under the blanket, pulling me into his side before pressing a kiss to my forehead.
“You were reading my book, remember?”
Embarrassment filled me when I realized I had been reading Spenser Johansson’s book, while sitting next to Spenser Johansson. “I remember asking if you’d heard of him.”
“I wasn’t happy with what I was writing. And neither was my editor. Then, I found you. I spent time with you and I fell in love. My whole life, I believed I was meant to be alone. In my mind, I didn’t deserve to be loved or cared for because of what I’d done to my family. But even before last night, when you showed me the police report, you’d made me feel like I was enough for you.” My heart swelled with love for this man who had lived so much of his life believing himself to be unlovable.
“You loved me, regardless of what I’d done in my past, no matter how much money I had, and no matter what my story was. You somehow melted the ice I thought had hardened my heart after the loss of my family. So, I wrote about that. You are my Etta and you helped me escape from the frozen, isolated world I’d forced myself to live in. I truly believe that kind of love story deserved to be written down for people to read until the end of time.” He paused, fumbling with his hands.
“Do you like it? Do you like seeing our story in print?”
“Reid, I love it. It’s beautiful. I didn’t realize the books I loved so much were yours. I would read your books and pray that I could find a love like that. And now, you’ve written me my very own Happily Ever After.”
He pushed my hair away from my face and looked at me with those beautiful, icy blue eyes I loved so much. Sighing contentedly, he leaned down and kissed me slowly and deeply, our tongues dancing.
Pulling away, breathless, I smiled up at him. “Now, how many more days do we have to wait until I can show you how much I love it?” I murmured, biting down on his bottom lip as a groan escaped him.
“Too many days, Etta. Way too many days.”