Page 58 of Icebound

My throat tightens, and when the waiter comes by and hands me yet another champagne glass, I’m tempted to take a sip to stop the burning. Isaac never talked about me to his friends, and living in Gwen’s eternal shadow has dimmed a lot of my successes. Rhode’s the first one to celebrate my dreams.

“Um, excuse me?” a woman’s voice interjects. “I don’t mean to bother you, but are you Rhode Tremblay?”

A gorgeous brunette in an emerald gown with a deep V sidles up to Rhode, and an uncomfortable pang hits my heart when his eyes drift over her red lips.

I try to shift out of his grasp, but his hand clenches around my lower back. “Yes, I am, and this is my uh, gi–my Nina.” He winces, but the way he says my Nina is enough to make me glow.

She reaches out to grip Rhode’s forearm, and I glare at her hand. “Sorry, I don’t mean to bother you, but I’m a big fan. I grew up going to Guardians games with my mom, and I’ve been following your career for a while. I’d love to get a picture.”

He catches my eye. “Do you mind?”

I shrug, feeling anything but nonchalant as I watch the way she’s practically foaming at the mouth over Rhode.

I hold out my hand, smiling tightly, like if I’m nice enough, that’ll make the jealousy disappear. “I can take the picture if you want.”

Rhode shakes his head. “You don’t need to do th—”

“That’d be amazing.” The woman shoves her phone into my hands. “Thank you so much.”

She all but glues herself to Rhode’s side. He casually drapes his arm around her, a practiced smile lighting up his face for the camera. The dimple doesn’t make an appearance, though, and he keeps his hand on her shoulder.

She snuggles into his chest, and my lips press into a thin line as I take the pictures. This is the type of woman who belongs in Rhode’s life. Not a girl who’s been dumping champagne in ferns all night.

I hand her phone back. “There you go, I took a million for you. Hopefully, there are a few good ones.”

“Thank you!” She scrolls through them with a grin. “I love them. My mom’s going to be so jealous that I got a picture with the Wall of Steel. I’m so glad I got one before you retired.”

“He’s not retiring,” I blurt. “The Guardians wouldn’t survive without him.”

If I have to repeat that phrase all night to keep Rhode smiling, then I will. He flinches, reaching for my hand. On instinct, I interlace my fingers through his. It’s a little moment that feels big.

He leans closer, scratching his stubble against my cheek. “Thanks for standing up for me. I’m not used to people doing that.”

“You’re an easy person to defend.”

He scoffs. “Tell that to my agent, because I bet you’re the only one who thinks that after all the shit I did in my twenties.”

“Well, they should focus on everything you’re doing now instead of the mistakes you made ten years ago. People change.”

He peers at me with such intensity, it feels like he’s dissecting my every thought under a microscope. “You’re kind of smart, you know that?”

“Kind of smart and my dress looks fine?” I playfully nudge his shoulder. “If you’re looking for a life partner, we need to work on your compliments.”

He mumbles something under his breath, running a hand through his hair, but he doesn’t get the chance to respond because the photo draws the attention of another woman in a gown that looks like it’s made of peacock feathers. Her eyes widen when she takes in Rhode’s massive form. Beside her, a man in a pink bow tie freezes, his whiskey paused halfway to his lips.

One by one, heads turn like Rhode’s a captivating force. The ballroom condenses until a bigger crowd forms around us, and my vision narrows like I'm squinting through a keyhole.

Shit.

It’s happening again.

Digging through my purse, I shove a piece of cinnamon gum into my mouth, focusing on the flavor.

You’re okay, Nina. You’re not getting chased by a bear.

A sneaky bead of sweat snakes its way down my neck. I clamp my arms to my sides, hoping to shield any potential pit stains. Inhaling, I nearly choke on the scent of vanilla perfume. The sea of glittering gowns tightens around us, trapping me in a circle of overpowering fragrances.

You’re not dying. You’re fine, Nina. You can’t die from perfume asphyxiation.