Burning Ice - Chapter 27: Chapter 27

—1 month later—
It had been a month since Dad passed, and I was still trying to make sense of it all. Losing him wasn't the kind of thing you bounced back from in a few weeks, and now, on top of that, there was this... money.
A million-dollar estate split between me and my brother. Just like that, I was a multi-millionaire. And it felt... weird.
I mean, I already made more money than I ever thought possible playing hockey. Enough to live comfortably, to take care of people if I needed to. But this? It felt different. Excessive.
I stared at the numbers in the bank account one night, and it didn't even feel real. Like I was looking at someone else's life. What was I even supposed to do with it? Buy more shit I didn't need? Invest in something? Donate it all to charity?
I hated how it made me feel. Like I was cashing in on my dad's death. Like maybe I didn't deserve it.
But that wasn't how Dad would've wanted me to see it. He left it for us because he wanted to. Because he trusted us. And yet, I couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't just money, it was a responsibility. One I wasn't sure I was ready for.
If it were up to me, I'd have married Billie yesterday. Hell, probably the first night we talked for real, when I realized there was more to her than just the breathtaking looks and sharp mouth. But Billie's the one who wanted to take things slow, and for her, I'd wait forever if that's what it took.
Not that it's easy. Every time we're together, it gets harder to keep my hands to myself, harder not to kiss her until she forgets all the reasons she's holding back. But I get it. Billie's careful. She's had to be. She's got walls that make mine look like picket fences, and I'm not about to bulldoze through them just to get my way.
Still, getting to know her like really know her, has been the best thing that's ever happened to me. Every little thing I learn about her just makes me want her more. Like how she hums when she's focused on something, not even realizing she's doing it. Or the way she steals fries off my plate even though she swears she's not hungry.
And then there's the stuff she doesn't say outright but I'm starting to pick up on. The way her voice gets soft when she talks about her mom. Or how she lights up when I mention something about my childhood, like she's trying to picture it, trying to understand where I come from.
I've never felt like this about anyone before. It's not just that I want her—though, God knows, I do—it's that I can't get enough of her. Her laugh, her mind, her damn stubbornness that drives me crazy and makes me fall for her all at once.
Some nights, when she's asleep next to me, I lie there thinking about how I ever got this lucky. And then I wonder if she has any idea just how far gone I am for her. Because it's not just love anymore. It's obsession, plain and simple.
But I'm playing the long game here. If slow is what Billie wants, slow is what she'll get. Even if it kills me.
Game day should've been the only thing on my mind. Pre-game rituals, focusing on the ice, staying in the zone. But all I could think about was Billie.
She'd said she'd try to make it tonight. That's all she ever said when it came to my games. I'll try. And I knew what that meant. It wasn't like she didn't care. She did. She just had work, and work always seemed to come first.
Her work.
I was trying, like really trying not to let it get to me. It wasn't my place to tell her what to do with her life, her body. I knew that. But knowing it didn't stop the knot in my stomach every time I thought about her up on that stage. The way other guys looked at her, talked about her. How they probably thought they had the right to touch her or say shit that I'd never let them get away with if I was there.
It was driving me insane.
I hated feeling this way. Possessive. Jealous. Like some controlling asshole who couldn't handle the fact that his girl.. well, almost his girl.. had a life of her own. But Billie wasn't just anybody to me. She was... everything. And the idea of her stripping for guys who didn't deserve to be in the same room as her? It made my blood boil.
I'd thought about asking her to quit. A hundred times, maybe more. The words were right there, sitting heavy on my tongue. I could tell her I'd take care of her, that she wouldn't have to worry about the bills or whatever reason had her staying in that job. I could give her a way out.
But then what? What if she thought I didn't respect her? What if she saw it as me trying to control her, when all I wanted was to protect her?
She'd been on her own for so long, making her own way, that I knew how much her independence meant to her. That was part of why I loved her. She didn't take shit from anyone, and she sure as hell didn't need saving.
Still, it was getting harder to bite my tongue. Harder not to ask her to let me take care of her the way I wanted to. Because I didn't want to share her. Not her time, not her attention, and definitely not her body.
Maybe she'd make it to the game tonight. Maybe she wouldn't. Either way, I'd skate hard, hit harder, and bury it all under the sound of the crowd. But later? When it was just the two of us? I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep this to myself.
——
A loss was a loss, but tonight's hit different. Maybe it was the way we fell apart in the last few minutes, or maybe it was just me being too in my head the whole damn game. Either way, it stung.
The locker room was dead quiet after the final horn. No jokes, no post-game banter, just guys staring at the floor or their phones. Coach didn't even bother with a speech. He knew when to leave it alone.
No post-game party tonight. No beers to wash down the sting. I didn't even bother showering at the arena. Just grabbed my bag and got out of there.
Billie hadn't made it to the game. Not that I really expected her to. She'd said she'd try, and I knew what that meant. Still, I'd been hoping. Scanning the stands like an idiot between shifts, looking for a face I knew wouldn't be there.
By the time I hit the highway, I wasn't ready to go home. Sitting in my empty condo, replaying every missed opportunity and blown play in my head, sounded like hell. So I turned off at Billie's exit instead.
I didn't text or call. If I had, she might've told me not to come. She hated when I just showed up, said it made her feel like she couldn't breathe. But I wasn't in the mood to wait for an invitation. Not tonight.
Her apartment building was quiet when I pulled up. The usual crowd of smokers outside the front door had cleared out for the night, and the streetlights gave everything that eerie glow they always did. I killed the engine, grabbed my bag, and headed inside.
Her door was locked, of course. She was good about that. Another thing I admired about her, she didn't take chances. But she wasn't expecting me, and I had to knock a couple times before I heard her footsteps on the other side.
When she opened the door, she was still in her work clothes, heels, makeup, the whole nine yards. And damn it if she didn't look like sin wrapped up in silk, even when I didn't want her to.
"Nate?" she said, surprised. Her eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. "What are you doing here?"
I didn't have a good answer. Not one that wouldn't sound like I was losing my mind over her. So I just shrugged and said, "We lost. No party. Didn't want to be alone."
She hesitated, just for a second, then stepped back to let me in. And even though I'd been here a hundred times before, tonight it felt different. Like maybe I was crossing a line we hadn't quite drawn yet.
The door clicked shut behind me, and I followed Billie into the living room. Her place was small but cozy, with little touches of her everywhere—throw pillows she swore she didn't care about but always adjusted, candles that smelled like vanilla and something floral. It was a far cry from the chaos of the arena or the emptiness of my place, and it always managed to calm me down.
She kicked off her heels as she walked, leaving them by the couch, and grabbed a bottle of water off the coffee table. "Rough game?" she asked, her voice soft but cautious, like she wasn't sure how much I wanted to talk about it.
"Yeah" I said, dropping onto the couch. "One of those nights where nothing goes right, you know?"
She nodded, sitting down on the armchair across from me. Her makeup was still perfect, not a single hair out of place. It hit me all over again how much work went into her job, how much she gave to people who didn't deserve it. And maybe that's what did it. Maybe that's what cracked me open.
We talked for a while, small talk, mostly. She asked about the game; I asked how work was. She gave me the usual vague answers, brushing it off like it was nothing, like what she did every night didn't eat at me in ways I couldn't explain.
And then, out of nowhere, I said it.
"Do you ever think about quitting?"
Her head jerked up, her eyes narrowing as she looked at me. "Quitting what?"
I leaned back, rubbing a hand over my face. I could feel the bitterness from the game still simmering under my skin, and maybe that was why I couldn't stop myself. "You know what I mean, Billie. The club. Dancing."
Her expression froze, and for a second, I thought she wasn't going to say anything at all. But then she set the water bottle down and crossed her arms, her posture going stiff. "Why are you bringing this up now?"
"I don't know," I admitted, which wasn't entirely true. I did know. I'd been holding it in for weeks, maybe longer. "I just... I hate it, okay? The idea of other guys looking at you like that. Like you're something they can buy."
She stood up, pacing a few steps before turning to face me. "Nate, we've talked about this. It's my job. It's how I pay my bills."
"I know, Billie. I know." My voice rose, but I forced myself to calm down. The last thing I wanted was to fight. "But I make enough money for both of us. You don't have to do this anymore. Let me take care of you."
Her jaw tightened, and I could see the wall she was throwing up between us, brick by brick. "It's not about the money," she said quietly. "It's about me. My independence. My life."
"And what about us?" I shot back. "Because I can't pretend this doesn't bother me. It does. Every night you're there, I'm losing my mind thinking about what's happening, what guys are saying to you, what they're doing—"
"They're not doing anything," she interrupted, her voice sharp. "You think I don't know how to handle myself? You think I need you to protect me?"
"No, Billie, that's not what I'm saying." I stood up, running a hand through my hair. "I just... I love you, okay? And it kills me that this is part of your life. I'm trying to respect it, but it's driving me insane."
We'd been talking in circles for what felt like forever, my frustration mounting with every second. And then it just slipped out, raw and unfiltered.
"I love you, okay? And it kills me that this is part of your life."
The second the words left my mouth, the air between us changed. Billie froze, her arms dropping to her sides, her eyes wide as if I'd just blindsided her.
"You what?" she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
I swallowed hard, realizing what I'd done. This wasn't how I'd planned to tell her. Hell, I didn't even know when I was planning to tell her. But now it was out there, hanging between us, and there was no taking it back.
"I love you," I said again, quieter this time. "I've been in love with you for a while now."
She blinked, like she was trying to process the words, and then let out a shaky laugh. "You can't just... throw that out in the middle of an argument, Nate. That's not fair."
"It's not fair?" I asked, my frustration spilling over. "How is it not fair to tell you how I feel? I'm losing my mind over you, Billie. Every time I see you, every time I don't see you, it's all I can think about. I didn't plan to say it tonight, but it's the truth."
She stared at me, her lips parted like she wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. For the first time since I'd known her, Billie looked vulnerable.
"You love me?" she asked again, her voice softer now, almost hesitant.
"Yeah," I said, stepping closer. "I love you, Billie. And I know I don't have the right to ask you to change your life for me, but I can't keep this bottled up anymore."
Her gaze dropped to the floor, and I could see the conflict playing out on her face. When she finally looked back up at me, there were tears in her eyes, but she blinked them away before they could fall.
"Nate..." She trailed off, shaking her head. "I don't even know what to say to that."
"Say whatever you're feeling," I said, my voice softening. "Even if it's not what I want to hear. I just needed you to know."
She let out a breath, her hands fidgeting as she tried to find the right words. "I didn't think you... I mean, I knew you cared, but love? That's... a lot."
"It is a lot" I agreed. "But I'm not going anywhere, Billie. Whether you feel the same or not, I'm here. I just... I needed you to know where I stand."
She bit her lip, her eyes darting away again. "I don't know if I can do this. Let someone love me like that. What if I mess it up? What if I'm not what you need?"
"You already are," I said, my voice firm. "You're everything I need, Billie. And I'm not asking you to be perfect."
For a long moment, she didn't say anything. The silence felt like it could swallow me whole. But then she took a tentative step closer, her fingers brushing against mine.
"I don't know if I'm ready for this," she said quietly. "But... I don't want to lose you either."
It wasn't the answer I'd hoped for, but it was something. A crack in the wall she'd built around herself. And for now, that was enough.
For a moment, I thought maybe I'd broken through. The way her fingers brushed mine, the way her voice softened, it felt like she was letting me in. But then, just as quickly, the warmth in her expression cooled.
She pulled her hand back and folded her arms across her chest, her stance going rigid again. "Nate, this doesn't change anything," she said, her tone firm.
"What do you mean?" I asked, frowning.
"This." She gestured vaguely between us. "How you feel about me. It doesn't change the fact that I don't need your help. I don't need saving."
"That's not what I'm trying to do, Billie," I said, my voice rising despite myself. "I'm not saying you can't handle yourself. I know you can. But why does that mean you have to keep doing this? You don't have to."
She let out a sharp laugh, shaking her head. "You don't get it, do you? This isn't about needing to. It's about choosing to. I've been taking care of myself for years, Nate. I've built a life that I'm proud of, even if you don't understand it."
"It's not that I don't understand," I shot back. "It's that I hate it. I hate the thought of other guys looking at you like you're something they can buy. You're worth more than that, Billie."
Her eyes flashed with anger, and I knew I'd crossed a line. "Don't you dare talk to me about my worth," she snapped. "You think I don't know what I'm worth? I didn't need you to love me to figure that out. I don't need you to tell me what to do with my life, or my body, or anything else."
"That's not what I'm trying to do," I said, my voice dropping, trying to reel it back in. "I just... I care about you, Billie. I want better for you."
"Better?" she repeated, her voice dripping with disbelief. "And what, exactly, is better? Sitting around waiting for you to come home from a road trip? Living off your money like some trophy girlfriend? That's not who I am, Nate. That's not who I'll ever be."
I opened my mouth to argue, but the words got stuck in my throat. Because the truth was, I didn't have an answer. She was right, what I was asking of her wasn't fair. But I couldn't stop the way I felt.
She let out a long breath, the tension in her shoulders easing just slightly. "I know you mean well. I know this is coming from a good place. But I need you to understand something, Nate. I've spent my whole life fighting to be independent. To make my own choices. And I'm not going to give that up—not for you, not for anyone."
Her words cut deeper than I wanted to admit, but I nodded, trying to keep my emotions in check. "Okay," I said quietly. "I hear you."
She studied me for a moment, her expression softening just a fraction. "Do you?"
"I do," I said, even though the knot in my chest told me otherwise. "I'm trying, Billie. I really am."
"Good," she said, her voice steady but not unkind. "Because if this is going to work, you're going to have to accept me for who I am. Not who you want me to be."
I nodded again, but deep down, I wasn't sure if I could do that.