Burning Ice - Chapter 16: Chapter 16

I stretched under the covers, my hand brushing the empty space beside me where Nate had slept. The sheets were cold now, a sign he'd been gone for a while. Blinking against the soft morning light filtering through the curtains, I recalled him murmuring something about work.
It was early—too early for my liking—but Nate had been up and dressed before dawn. At the time, I hadn't questioned it, my mind foggy with sleep. Now, fully awake and alone, doubt began to creep in.
Work, I thought, the word echoing hollowly in my mind. Maybe it was true; Nate's job was demanding, often requiring odd hours. Yet, the timing felt off, gnawing at me like a splinter I couldn't ignore. What if it wasn't work? What if it was just an excuse? A polite way to leave without hurting my feelings?
My chest tightened at the thought. I hated how easily my mind veered down these paths, but I couldn't help wondering if there was more to his early departure than he let on.
I shook off the thought, forcing myself to stop spiraling. I had no reason to doubt him—but then again, I didn't exactly have a reason to trust him either. It was too soon for that.
I sighed, sitting up in bed, and glanced around the room. The silence felt heavier than usual. The day stretched out before me, empty and uneventful. I didn't have the energy for much, so I let myself sink back into the memory of last night.
I could still smell him, faint traces of his cologne lingering on the pillow next to mine. It was clean and warm, with a hint of something sharp, like cedar. The way he wrapped his arms around me as we fell asleep came rushing back with the steady rise and fall of his chest, the weight of his arm draped across my waist. It felt... natural, like I belonged there. For a moment, it felt as if I'd known him my whole life.
The thought made my chest ache, but I pushed it down, distracting myself with my phone. Scrolling through endless posts, mindless videos, anything to keep myself from falling deeper into my own head. The hours dragged on like that with me, scrolling, resting, and letting time slip away.
Tonight, I'd be back at work, slipping into the same routine I always did. But for now, I stayed curled up in bed, replaying every detail of last night in my head and letting myself feel, just for a little while longer, the warmth of something that already felt too far away.
I forced a smile as I leaned over the bar, listening to some guy drone on about his weekend trip to Vegas. My voice was sugary sweet, the kind that made my jaw ache after a while, but it was worth it if it meant a bigger tip. I nodded at the right moments, laughing softly at his jokes even though they weren't funny. It was just part of the job.
Then, mid-laugh, my gaze flickered to the door and my heart stopped.
At first, I thought I was imagining it. I blinked hard, but the face was still there. Lean, familiar, aged but unmistakable. My stomach twisted as recognition hit me like a punch to the gut. It was him. My dad.
I hadn't seen him in years, not since he walked out on us. And yet, here he was, strolling into the club like he belonged. His dreadlocks swayed as he moved, his face unreadable as he scanned the room. I froze, gripping the edge of the bar like it was the only thing holding me upright.
He didn't see me. Maybe he didn't even recognize me. He kept walking, heading straight for the stage. I watched, unable to move, as he took a seat at one of the front tables, settling in like this was just another night out for him.
A rush of emotions hit me all at once. Anger, confusion, something that felt a little too close to hurt. What the hell was he doing here? And why now, after all this time? I swallowed hard, trying to steady my breathing. The guy at the bar was still talking, oblivious to the fact that my entire world had just shifted.
I turned away, pretending to fix something behind the counter while my thoughts raced. I wasn't ready for this. I didn't know if I'd ever be ready for this.
I couldn't stay out there. My hands were shaking too much, and my legs felt like they might give out at any second. Without thinking, I slipped away from the bar, weaving through the crowd as casually as I could. Once I was backstage, the noise of the club muffled behind the heavy door, my chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath.
I leaned against the wall, pressing my palms into my knees. My breathing was uneven, like I'd been running, but the air wasn't coming in fast enough. My heart felt like it was trying to claw its way out of my chest. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to get it together, but the flood of memories wouldn't stop.
All I could think about was Mom. How she fought so hard for so long, how I sat with her through every chemo session, held her hand when the pain got too much, and watched her slip away. And where was he? Nowhere. Not a call, not a card, not even a text. Just silence.
I hated myself for thinking about him at all, for letting the sight of him crack something open inside me that I'd worked so hard to seal shut. He was nothing to me. A stranger. And yet, that feeling of abandonment, of being left behind like I didn't matter, clung to me like a second skin.
I clenched my fists, trying to push it all down. But it was there, bubbling up in the back of my throat like acid. He was out there, sitting like he had every right to exist in the same space as me, like the years of nothing didn't matter.
And me? I was back here, falling apart because of a man who hadn't even glanced my way. A man who didn't deserve the weight of my pain.
I stayed tucked in the corner of the back room, trying to calm my breathing. My hands felt clammy, and no matter how hard I tried, the air didn't feel like it was reaching my lungs. All I could think about was him—sitting out there, so close, as if his presence wasn't tearing me apart from the inside out.
I heard the door creak open and flinched, quickly wiping at my face. My manager walked in, his sharp eyes narrowing as he looked at me.
"You alright?" he asked, crossing his arms. I opened my mouth to lie, to say I was fine, but I couldn't get the words out. Instead, I just shook my head.
He sighed, his tone softening. "You look like you're about to pass out. If you're not feeling good, go home. I'll cover for you."
Home. The idea of escaping this place, of putting as much distance as possible between me and the man sitting out there, was like a lifeline. But I hesitated. I'd only worked half my shift, and I needed the money. I always needed the money.
Still, my chest felt like it was caving in. The thought of walking back out there, of pretending everything was fine while he was just feet away, was unbearable.
I nodded slowly, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Thanks" I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper.
He waved me off, already moving toward the door. "Feel better. We'll see you tomorrow."
I grabbed my bag with shaky hands, forcing myself not to look at anyone as I made my way out the back. I couldn't breathe in there, not with him so close. The money could wait. Right now, all I needed was air and space.
My dad. My first ever heartbreak.
I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at my phone like it might answer the questions swirling in my head. My hair was damp from the shower, and the scent of lavender soap clung to my skin, but I didn't feel relaxed. Not even close.
I wasn't sure why I felt the need to call Nate. Maybe it was the way he made me feel grounded when I'd been with him, like the storm inside me had settled for a little while. Or maybe it was something darker, something tied to the hollow ache left behind after seeing my dad. That old, familiar feeling of being unwanted had crept in, and I needed to remind myself that someone—anyone—cared.
My finger hovered over the call button on Instagram. It was impulsive, and I hated feeling unsure, but I hit it anyway. The ring barely lasted a second before he picked up, his face filling the screen.
"Didn't expect to hear from you." he said, his tone equal parts surprised and amused.
I shifted, suddenly nervous, which wasn't like me. "Hey" I said softly, avoiding his eyes on the screen. "Sorry, I know it's random. I just..." I trailed off, trying to find the words.
He leaned closer to his camera, concern flashing across his face. "You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just... are you free tonight?" The question came out rushed, like ripping off a bandage.
Nate's face softened instantly, his surprise melting into something warmer. "Yeah, of course. What do you want to do? Whatever it is, I'll make it happen."
His quick answer caught me off guard, and before I could stop myself, I felt my chest tighten. I was so used to having to fight for attention, for care, that his immediate willingness to show up left me feeling raw. The emotions bubbled up again, and I looked away from the screen, blinking hard.
"Billie? What's going on?" Nate's voice was soft but firm.
I shook my head quickly, trying to pull it together, but he wasn't having it. "I'll be there in 30 minutes," he said, already grabbing his keys. "Just sit tight, alright?"
I nodded, a small part of me embarrassed by how quickly I'd unraveled, but mostly, I felt relief. He didn't push, didn't ask for more than I was willing to give. He just... showed up. And in this moment, that was exactly what I needed.
The knock at the door came sooner than I expected. I took a steadying breath, trying to collect myself before opening it, but the second I saw Nate standing there, I faltered. He didn't hesitate, didn't wait for an invitation—he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close.
At first, I stiffened. I wasn't used to this—someone being this warm, this certain, without me having to ask for it. But then his arms tightened just enough to make me feel secure, and I let myself lean into him. My hands rested against his chest, my forehead brushing his shoulder as I took a deep breath. His scent, clean and comforting, filled the space between us, and for a moment, it felt like the world outside didn't exist.
I hadn't realized how badly I needed this. To not have to say anything, to not have to explain myself, and to just... be held. His heartbeat was steady, his breathing calm, and I let it ground me.
"You're okay" he said softly, his voice low and soothing.
I nodded against him, closing my eyes for a second. "I'm glad you're here," I whispered, surprised by how much I meant it.
He pulled back just enough to look at me, his hands still resting on my shoulders. His dark eyes searched mine, as if trying to read everything I wasn't saying.
"You want to talk, or you just want me to hang out with you?" he asked gently, giving me the choice.
"Can we just... sit for a bit?" I felt a lump rise in my throat, but I swallowed it down.
He nodded without hesitation, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. "Whatever you need" he said.
I followed him to the couch, already feeling the tightness in my chest ease just from having him here.
I curled up on the couch, my legs tucked under me as Nate settled in beside me. He looked at me for a moment, like he was waiting for me to say something, but I wasn't ready to unpack my day. Not yet. Instead, I forced a small smile and asked, "How was your day?"
He raised a brow, clearly catching on to my deflection, but he played along. "It was good. Had an interview with ESPN this morning."
My head snapped up at that, my mood lifting just a little. "Wait—ESPN? That's huge, Nate!"
He grinned, his expression softening as he saw my excitement.
"Yeah, it went well. They want to feature me in some segment about upcoming players to watch this season."
"That's amazing!" I said, sitting up straighter. "You're gonna kill it. I mean, you're already killing it, but still."
His grin widened, and I could tell he appreciated the encouragement. "Thanks, Billie. Means a lot coming from you."
I felt my cheeks heat up, so I looked down at the blanket in my lap. "What else? Did you practice today?"
"Yeah, quick practice. Mostly drills and some strategy work. Nothing too intense," he said, leaning back against the cushions. "Coach is trying not to wear us out before the next game."
I nodded, letting his words distract me. It was easy to listen to him talk about his day, the little details about practice, his teammates, and how he managed to squeeze in a nap before coming over. It pulled me out of my head, away from the memories that had been suffocating me since this afternoon.
For the first time all day, I felt like I could breathe. Just sitting here, listening to him talked, I felt the weight on my chest ease a little. He didn't press me, didn't ask about what was bothering me, and I appreciated that more than I could say.
The conversation slowed, and for a moment, there was nothing but the quiet hum of the apartment. I shifted, suddenly aware of the tension in the air, the unspoken things still hanging between us. But before it could settle too heavily, Nate broke the silence.
"Hey, what do you say we grab some ice cream?" he said, looking over at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "
Without missing a beat, I grinned, my excitement bubbling up faster than I could think. "Yes. Absolutely yes. Ice cream solves everything."
He chuckled, clearly amused by my enthusiasm. "Well, I'm glad to hear it. I wasn't sure if I was gonna have to twist your arm."
"No arm twisting necessary," I shot back, the energy in my voice lightening the mood. "I'm all in. Just promise we're getting something ridiculously indulgent."
"Deal. I'll get whatever you want." Nate laughed again, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
I almost couldn't believe how easy it was to laugh again, to feel a little bit of that old spark inside me. Ice cream. A simple, silly thing. But it felt like exactly what I needed right now was something that made the world feel normal, even if just for a moment.
"Okay, but if I'm picking," I said with a grin, "there's no way I'm going for anything simple. I'm thinking double chocolate fudge with sprinkles."
His smile matched mine, the kind that reached his eyes. "Perfect. Let's go."
And for the first time today, I didn't feel like running away from everything. Instead, I was already looking forward to the small, sweet distraction of a bowl of ice cream and whatever the night would bring.