Page 79 of Breaking the Ice

“Oh, that’s what you think I should have done? Just let it slide and pretend like it’s no big deal, that my son-in-law can get away with anything he wants?” His voice is a roar in the empty space. “But in reality, when you two pulled this little stunt, Evan put himself in a whole new category where he’s held to higher behavior standards than everyone else on the team.”

“What? That’s not fair!”

Getting control of himself, my dad shrugs. “You’re right, it’s not. But unless he wants to be accused of nepotism, that’s exactly what will happen. You should have thought of that before you went off and eloped in Vegas.” He glares at me. “But you got drunk with my hockey players and didn’t think about anything, didn’t you?”

“That’s what you’re still mad about, aren’t you? Your players are off-limits, and I had the audacity to marry one.”

“I thought you were more responsible than that, Bella. And Evan—he’s…”

He trails off, unwilling to fill in the blank.

“He’s what? Not good enough for me? Because that’s how you’ve been acting. You treat him terribly at practice, ignore him during games, and haven’t even bothered to have us over to your house. He’s your son-in-law, for crying out loud!”

My dad blanches. “Well, it’s not like you’re going to stay married to him. It’s just for show, for the university, and only for the rest of the semester. Right?”

The fight drains out of me. My temper, so quick to flare, is also quick to recede. Adrenaline fades, leaving me tired. I don’t know what my future looks like with Evan, and my dad is the last person who deserves to hear about it.

“Yeah, Dad. I did it for the reputation of you and your precious hockey team, so there wouldn’t be a scandal. I was going to end it, but I’m still here—for you. Think about that for a while.”

His mouth opens, but before he can say anything else, I spin on my heel and walk out, getting small satisfaction from slamming the door to his office. I’m shaky and cold. Is my fever coming back, or is it just my body’s reaction to fighting with my dad?

Halfway across the locker room, I stop short, face-to-face with the last person I expect to see. “Evan.”

His blue eyes are wide, and his face is blank. “What are you doing here?”

“Um.” I wave my hand in the air. “Talking to my dad.”

“Yeah, I heard that.”

“Oh.” His expression gives nothing away—is he mad I went behind his back? Bolstered that I would defend him to my father? I can’t tell. “Why did you come? You don’t have practice.”

“I thought maybe if I apologized and tried to explain one more time…” Evan trails off, shaking his head. “But it sounds like I’m not playing this weekend, no matter what.”

I step closer to him, putting my hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. If I had known⁠—”

“I still would have done the same thing.” He drops a kiss on my nose, and even though it’s sweet, it still sends a shiver of desire though me.

Wrapping his arm around my waist, he leads me out of the locker room. “I know it’s dumb. I don’t have what it takes to play professional hockey, and that’s fine. I’ve enjoyed my college career, though, and I’ll miss it. This is a big rivalry game, and I wish I could play.”

“I know.” My voice goes husky, and I clear my throat. “I’m sorry my dad wouldn’t change his mind.”

“No worries.” We step out of the building into the weak January sunlight. “I hope I haven’t ruined family stuff for you in the future.”

Family stuff for me. Not for us. My chest fills with disappointment, and my stomach drops. I’ve been fever-free for a few days, but my feet wobble underneath me.

Evan reaches out to steady me. “Whoa, you okay?”

No, not really. Because it feels like he’s pulling away from me, like he doesn’t see us solving these problems together. Honestly, maybe he doesn’t want to. It’s not like my family has been nice or welcoming to him. They have treated him exactly like this marriage is fake and temporary—but is it? Somewhere along the way, I forgot it was supposed to end.

We did everything out of order. We’re too inexperienced and young to make this work. Dreams of a future with him are ridiculous.

But instead of voicing any of that, I say, “Uh, yeah. Just pushed myself a little too hard today.”

“I think we still have some soup at home. Want me to warm it up for you?”

I make a face. “That is so thoughtful of you, but if I eat another mouthful of soup, I might die. I need real food. How do cheeseburgers sound?”

Evan laughs. “Amazing. Let’s go.”