Page 64 of Ice Princess

Unfortunately, I’ve been holding myself back all night and I can’t any longer.

The doorman opens the door for mom and dips his head politely. My mother stomps past him, her eyes set on the parking lot.

I nod at the doorman and follow her into the darkness.

Mom stops a few paces from the restaurant’s front door. “What exactly is it that you want to say, Gunner Kinsey?”

Her arms cross over her chest and she glares at me, while simultaneously bracing herself.

I’m not surprised that mom sniffed out my true intentions. Even Rebel sensed what this sudden trip ‘to the car’ was about.

“Mom, I love you, but I can’t and won’t sit by while you embarrass and berate my girlfriend.”

“Who said I was?—”

“That comment about her not being able to afford to eat at a restaurant like this one…”

Mom stutters. “It was just an observation! She clearly can’t.”

“… and then, a few seconds ago, when you snapped at her like she’s a child…”

“I was simply pointing out how long we had the waitress waiting!”

“I love you,” I say again. My father raised me to be unafraid of those words and I mean them sincerely. “But Rebel did not sign up to be dragged by my mother and my ex-girlfriend on a Saturday night. I won’t ask you to like her, but I will ask you to be respectful of her.”

Mom’s jaw drops. “Gunner.”

“If it happens one more time, mom, I’ll be taking Rebel away. We will leave the table and the restaurant.” My words are low and respectful but firm.

I don’t want mom to think I’m joking or that I’m only saying this to intimidate her. Iwillleave if she hurts Rebel again, but I truly hope it doesn’t come to that.

I think Rebel and mom have a lot in common—not that either woman will appreciate the comparison. They’re both fierce, independent, brilliant women. Together, they’d be an unstoppable force.

Mom blinks rapidly. She runs her teeth over her bottom lip, back and forth. “You!” She shakes her head and starts pacing. “You’ve been brainwashed!”

I have no idea what to say to that because she’s not wrong.

I spent my entire life pretending Rebel Hart didn’t exist but, now, she’s all I can see. The shift wasn’t gradual at all. It’s like I had control of the puck and a winger came out of nowhere, body slamming me into the boards.

I was blindsided.

“That woman…!” Mom flings a finger at the restaurant and then pulls the finger back to rub her temple. “You wouldnevertalk to me like this. It must be her idea.”

I tilt my head back in a silent groan. Did mom completely miss my point? Or did I not say anything? Have I become so quiet, so reclusive, that when I speak, no actual words leave my lips?

“I raised you with my blood, sweat and tears,” mom grinds out, “I gave birth to you and changed your diapers and ran after you every day on the farm, keeping you away from sharp objects and electrical outlets and small, digestible knickknacks that could kill you. I gave you the best education, the best hockey gear, the most expensive trips to foreign countries. I dideverythingfor you and you choose that girl over me?”

“Mom—”

“Forget it! You’ve made yourself clear. You don’t care about me or my opinion.”

I heave out a sigh. Where in my entire speech did I use those words?

“I won’t say anything more to her tonight. In fact, I’ll pretend she’s not even there.” Mom stabs her finger in my chest. “But don’t eventhinkof sending her to the Lady Luck Society meeting tomorrow.”

I grimace.Uh-oh.

“I know that little Jumbotron announcement was your scheme, but I will not bebulliedinto letting anyone into my sacred space. We can play nice at the table, but the Lady Luck Society ismyjurisdiction and she isdefinitely notinvited.”

---