Burning Ice - Chapter 28: Chapter 28

When Nate said "I love you" it felt like the floor shifted beneath me. My brain stalled for a second, like it couldn't process the words.
I love you.
He said it so easily, like he hadn't just dropped a bomb in the middle of an argument. Like he didn't know what that kind of thing did to a person like me.
I stood there, staring at him, and I knew I should say something. Anything. But my throat felt tight, and my chest ached in this unfamiliar, uncomfortable way.
This wasn't fair.
How could he throw something like that at me now, in the middle of a fight? Did he think saying those three words would magically make this whole thing go away?
But the worst part? The absolute worst part?
I wanted to say it back.
I felt the words bubbling up inside me, clawing at the back of my throat, but I shoved them down. Because saying them out loud—I love you, too—that was a door I wasn't ready to open. Love wasn't something I threw around lightly. It wasn't something I even knew how to handle.
It wasn't just a word to me. It was a promise. And I didn't know if I could keep that promise, not the way Nate deserved.
After Nate left, I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the wall like it might offer some kind of answer. But all it did was remind me how hollow I felt.
His words wouldn't stop echoing in my head.
I hate that this is part of your life.
I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. He made it sound like I wanted this life. Like I woke up one day and thought, You know what would be fun? Letting drunk strangers ogle me for cash.
I didn't love what I did. Hell, most nights, I hated it. The music, the fake smiles, the men who thought a couple of twenties bought them the right to talk to me like I was nothing. If I could walk away from it tomorrow, I would. But not because Nate asked me to.
That was the part that stung the most. Not his frustration, or even the way he said it like I was breaking his heart by just existing in a way he didn't approve of. It was the fact that he asked.
"Do you ever think about quitting" he'd said. Just like that, like it was that simple. Like it didn't mean anything to me. Like it didn't mean everything.
I didn't want to be one of those women who made everything about independence and principle, but damn it, I was independent. I'd fought hard to get here, to stand on my own two feet, and now he wanted me to throw it all away because he didn't like how I earned my paycheck?
He wasn't wrong to hate it. Some nights, I hated it too. But it was mine. My choice. My life. And it felt... different if I gave it up because he asked me to. Like I was handing him a part of myself I wasn't ready to let go of yet.
I didn't want to feel like I owed him something. Like quitting was a favor I was doing for him, and now I'd be his responsibility. The idea of him "taking care of me" made my stomach turn not because it wasn't sweet, but because it made me feel small. Like a lap dog, waiting for him to throw me a bone.
I'd spent too many years fighting to be my own person to let someone—even someone I cared about put me in that box.
Still, the worst part was that tiny, traitorous voice in the back of my mind. The one that whispered, What if he's right?
What if this wasn't just about principle? What if I was holding on to this job, this life, because I didn't know who I was without it?
I shoved the thought aside, running my hands through my hair. No. That wasn't it. This wasn't about Nate being right or wrong. This was about me deciding when or if I was ready to let it go. And right now, I wasn't ready. Not for him. Not for anyone.
But deep down, I knew the truth. I didn't hate that he asked because he was wrong. I hated it because he was right. And that was something I wasn't ready to deal with.
The first tear caught me off guard. I didn't even realize it was there until it slipped down my cheek and dripped onto my hand. I swiped at it quickly, like erasing it would erase the knot of emotions tangled in my chest. But it didn't stop. Another tear followed, then another, until I couldn't fight it anymore.
I buried my face in my hands, letting the tears come. It wasn't loud or dramatic, just quiet, frustrated sobs that felt like they'd been building for longer than I cared to admit.
I hated crying. It always felt like losing control, like I was letting the world win. But more than that, I hated how hard it was to handle someone else's emotions, let alone my own.
Nate's words kept replaying in my head, mixing with the guilt and anger swirling inside me. "I hate that this is part of your life." "I love you."
I choked out a bitter laugh through the tears. Love. That word felt too big, too heavy. I didn't know what to do with it, how to hold it, how to give it back. Nate had handed it to me so freely, like he trusted me with it, and all I could do was stand there, frozen, while it slipped through my fingers.
I didn't want to hurt him. God, the last thing I wanted was to hurt him. But how could I hold someone else's emotions when I could barely keep a grip on my own?
I wiped at my face with the sleeve of my sweatshirt, trying to pull myself together. It wasn't just Nate. It was everything. The weight of my life, the choices I'd made, the way I always seemed to be fighting to prove something to myself, to the world, to him.
My breath hitched as I thought about the way he looked at me tonight, like he was desperate to protect me from something he didn't understand. I hated that look almost as much as I hated the way it made me feel like maybe, for once, I didn't have to do this alone.
But I had to do it alone. I didn't know any other way. Depending on someone else felt like a trap, a ticking time bomb just waiting to blow up in my face.
Still, the thought of pushing him away made my chest ache in a way that scared me. Because what if I wasn't just pushing him away? What if I was pushing away the only good thing I'd had in a long time?
I let out a shaky breath, staring at the cracks in my ceiling as if they held some kind of answer.
"Get it together, Billie" I whispered to myself.
But no matter how many times I told myself to stop crying, to stop feeling so damn much, the tears kept coming. Because deep down, I knew I couldn't run from this forever. Nate wasn't the kind of man who would let me hide. And that terrified me more than anything.
I couldn't stay here anymore, not with all this weight pressing down on me. The tears had stopped, but the ache in my chest wouldn't go away. I sat there for a while, staring at the same spot on the ceiling, trying to talk myself out of getting in the car, but nothing worked.
I needed to clear the air. I couldn't go to sleep with all this hanging over me. Not after tonight. Not after everything I'd been thinking and feeling.
I grabbed my keys off the counter without thinking, my hands shaking a little as I did. I didn't even know exactly what I was going to say when I got there, but I knew I couldn't just let things fester. Not after Nate had laid all of that out, so raw and real. He deserved more than me shutting him out.
The lights of his apartment complex came into view, and my heart started pounding faster, each beat louder than the last. What was I even going to say? I couldn't give him all the answers he wanted—hell, I wasn't even sure what I wanted half the time. But I owed him something.
I wasn't a woman who liked to open up. I didn't like to show weakness, to show how much I cared, because that was how you got hurt. But Nate had already seen pieces of me I'd kept buried for a long time. He had to know I wasn't some untouchable woman, some cold, distant figure. And I wasn't sure I could keep up the façade anymore.
I closed my eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply, trying to steady my breath.
It didn't matter how hard this was. It didn't matter how much I wanted to protect myself. What mattered was him. Nate had given me a glimpse of something I hadn't even realized I was looking for, and I couldn't keep running from it.
I got out of the car, slamming the door behind me a little harder than I intended. My feet were a little too quick, and before I knew it, I was standing at his door, my hand hovering over the knocker. I hesitated just for a second, maybe out of fear, maybe out of uncertainty but then I knocked.
The sound echoed in the quiet of the night.
When the door swung open, I wasn't ready for the rush of emotions that hit me all at once. Nate stood there, his expression soft but guarded, like he wasn't sure what to expect from me. He was in a sweatshirt and sweatpants, his hair messy from the game earlier, and even though he looked exhausted, I couldn't help but feel the pull of his presence.
The sight of him, so real and raw, made my heart race. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but for a moment, nothing came out.
Nate's gaze flicked over me, his brows furrowing in confusion. I could tell he wasn't sure why I was standing there, looking like I had the weight of the world on my shoulders. I wasn't sure either, but I wasn't going to back down now.
"Billie" he finally said, his voice low, like he was waiting for me to explain myself. "What's going on? Are you okay?"
I swallowed, shaking my head just slightly. The words that had been swirling in my mind for hours now felt stuck in my throat. I hated this. I hated how vulnerable I felt standing in front of him. I wasn't used to letting people see me like this, uncertain, shaky, torn between the things I wanted and the things I was scared of.
"I—I don't know," I finally managed to say, my voice sounding foreign to me. "I just couldn't... I couldn't go to sleep without coming here."
Nate stepped back from the door, opening it wider, his eyes scanning me with concern. "Come in" he said softly.
I didn't hesitate, stepping past him into his apartment, but it felt like every step was heavy, like I was dragging my own hesitation behind me. He shut the door quietly behind me, and for a moment, we just stood there in the silence.
I wanted to say something, anything to explain why I was here, but my mind was a whirlwind. My chest felt tight. I hated how much this situation had already spiraled, how many things I wanted to say but couldn't quite piece together.
Nate's voice broke the quiet again, his tone gentle but firm. "Billie, talk to me. What's going on?"
I let out a breath, trying to steady myself, trying to find the words I'd been struggling to say all day. "You said you loved me," I blurted out. My words came out raw, jagged. "And... I don't know what to do with that."
Nate's expression softened, his eyes narrowing in confusion. He stepped closer to me, his gaze never leaving mine. "What do you mean? You don't think I mean it?"
"No," I said quickly, shaking my head. "I just... I don't know how to—how to handle it. How to handle you."
I could see the hurt flash in his eyes for a second, and it almost made me take it back, but I couldn't. I needed him to understand, even if it hurt him.
"I don't know how to handle all of this, Nate. Everything you said tonight... about me quitting my job... I get it, I do. But it's not that simple." I paused, biting my lip. "I don't want to just quit because you asked me to. I don't want to be some... project for you to fix. I've fought too hard to get where I am to just give it all up. And I don't know what that means for us, but I don't want to feel like you're trying to take care of me in a way I can't handle."
I could feel the tension in the room thickening, but I couldn't stop now. Not when I had so much swirling inside me.
"I don't even know if I'm ready to love you back," I admitted, the words leaving my mouth before I could stop them. "I care about you, I do. But I can't just say it back like it's nothing. It's not how I work."
His silence hung between us, his expression unreadable. The air felt thick, heavy, like the space between us was shifting with every word we said.
"You're scared" Nate said finally, his voice quieter now.
I nodded, not trusting my voice to say anything else.
He sighed, stepping even closer. "Billie... I'm not asking you to quit because I think you're broken. I don't want to fix you. But I want you to be able to choose what's best for you, not what you think you have to do to survive. I want to be there for you, to make your life easier, not harder."
His words hit me harder than I expected. I wanted to believe him, I really did. But the idea of letting him in, letting someone else take care of me in a way I wasn't used to, felt like a dangerous game.
"I'm not asking for a fairy tale, Billie" he added, his tone gentle. "I'm just asking for a chance. For both of us to figure out how this works."
I looked at him, my heart pounding in my chest. I was so close to him now, close enough to feel the warmth of his body, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.
"I don't know how to do that," I whispered. "I don't know how to let someone else in without pushing them away."
His fingers brushed mine, sending a jolt through my whole body. "We'll figure it out," he said softly. "But you're not alone in this, Billie. You never have been."
I couldn't find the words to respond, so I didn't. Instead, I just let him hold my hand, feeling the weight of everything we were both carrying.
And for the first time that night, I felt like I wasn't the only one holding the burden.