Page 52 of Love so Cold

But reality crashes over me like a cold wave: Avery Bennett isn't just a name; she's a person with a life tangled up in the consequences of my own actions. My heart hammers with the realization that I’m way out of line. This kiss, as earth-shattering as it feels, shouldn't be happening. It's not fair to her, not when she stands to lose so much becauseof me.

"Sorry," I gasp, breaking away with a jolt that leaves us both breathless. Her eyes are wide, like she's been shaken from a dream, and I can't tell if she's about to cry or curse me out.

I take her hand, leading her back to the bench with cheeks burning hotter than a Zamboni’s exhaust. I can't even look at her, can't face those stunning brown eyes that probably hold a storm of emotions.

"Let me help you," I mutter, fumbling with the laces of her skates. Why did I think I had the right? Avery deserves someone better, someone who isn't tied up in the mess I've brought to her doorstep.

"Hey, I can take you home," I offer, but the words sound hollow even to me.

Avery shakes her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "No need. My car's here. Gotta pick up Olivia."

"Right, Olivia." My throat tightens at the mention of her daughter, another reminder of Avery's reality, so starkly different from my own. I swallow hard and stand up, feeling clumsy and oversized next to her grace.

"Okay then." I stuff my hands in my pockets, desperate for something to do with them other than reaching out to her again. Avery Bennett, with her artist's soul and single mom strength, has knocked me completely off balance. And I have no idea how to regain my footing.

The cold bites at my skin as we walk, the silence between us so thick it's suffocating. I sneak glances atAvery, who keeps her gaze fixed ahead, her strides confident and purposeful on the icy parking lot.

"Here," she says softly, stopping by an old sedan that's seen better days.

"Uh, yeah." My breath fogs up in the chilly air. "Avery, I'm?—"

"Victor, really. It's okay." She cuts me off with a wave of her hand as she unlocks the car door.

"No, it's not." I rub the back of my neck, feeling the weight of my mistake. "I don't want you to think... I mean, the last thing I want is—" I sigh. "I don't want you to get the wrong idea is all."

"What's the right idea, Victor?" Avery turns to me, her eyes searching mine.

I open my mouth, but words fail me. The right idea? I wish I knew.

She leans forward, pressing her lips briefly against my cheek, and it's like a jolt of electricity through my system. Then she's gone, slipping into the driver's seat and pulling away from the curb before I can figure out how to breathe again.

"Idiot," I mutter to myself, watching her taillights fade into the night.

"Sir?" Marcus calls from the idling black sedan across the lot.

"Take me home, Marcus." I climb into the backseat, sinking into the leather with a heavy sigh.

"Rough night?" His eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror.

"Something like that." I lean my head against the cool window. "Ever fall for someone who's got every reason to hate your guts?"

"Ah." He chuckles, the sound warm and knowing. "Love and logic rarely align, sir."

"Any advice?" I ask, half-hoping he's got a magic solution tucked in his driver's cap.

"Give it time," Marcus advises. "And if it's meant to be, she'll see past the mess. Or, you'll clean it up for her."

"Time," I echo, staring out into the darkness, wondering just how much time it would take for Avery Bennett to look at me and see something other than the man threatening her community.

The glowfrom the laptop screen is harsh against the dim lighting of my apartment. I flick through emails with a numb finger, each subject line blurring into the next. In the back of my mind, Avery's face lingers, her voice echoing in the silence of the room.

"Unbelievable," I mutter to myself as I drag my hand down my face. Work, always my refuge, now feels like a chore. A distraction I'm not interested in entertaining.

I click on the calendar icon, the upcoming appointments neatly lined up, a testament to my usually impeccable time management. Then it catches my eye—tomorrow, 4 PM: Investor Meeting.

"Same time as practice," I whisper, a cold knot forming in my stomach. The kids' expectant faces flash before me, mixed with the memory of Avery clutching tight to me as we skated around the rink.

Without thinking, my fingers move on their own, clicking to reschedule the meeting for a later date. I hit 'send' before the gravity of what I've just done sinks in.

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