Page 39 of On Thin Ice

“No. I looked all over social media and just did general searches but came up with nothing. I started thinking she maybe changed her name and moved out of the country.”

Sinclair’s hand brushed my arm, sending chills down my spine. “I could help with that if you want. If you have enough money, you can find almost anyone.”

It was a reminder that the man beside me had far more power than I and my father ever would. But my mother…I’d put her memory to rest years ago. Part of me still wanted to know—but the rest of me had decided she was dead to me, and I’d managed to convince myself that she was, in fact, dead. Otherwise, how else could she go the rest of her life without trying to connect with her daughter? Even though I didn’t have children of my own, I understood the bond and wondered what the hell was wrong with the woman who’d given birth to me.

“Thanks—but I don’t want her in my life.”

His short nod told me he understood—and I knew he did. His voice took on the same bitter tone when he spoke of his father. Maybe we had a lot more in common than I’d thought.

“Lise?” I looked up then, not having realized I was digging my nails into his chest. Maybe I had a lot more letting go to do than I’d thought.

“Oh, sorry.”

I had to change the subject—and pretend I didn’t know any of the history I’d read about or even what Edna had divulged. “So why don’t you ever talk about your mom?”

His eyes grew dark again. “She died when I was a baby.”

My words echoed an earlier sentiment. “I’m sorry.”

When he shook his head, his eyes looked like his mind was far away again. “I guess she called me Cory too.” Finally, he shifted his focus to my face once more. “That’s why I didn’t mind you calling me that.”

I simply nodded and smiled, not planning to spill the beans.

“Even my brothers called me that until my father forbade it. He said it was a childish name and I was to be called by my first name from then on. He did the same thing to my oldest brother too. I guess my mom was the one who called him Augie and, after she’d been gone a few years, my father decided it was foolish. My brother was a teenager at the time and told our dad everyone at school called him that and he wasn’t going to change it. But…it wasn’t long before my dad got his way.” Almost under his breath, he added, “He always does.” Then he said, “But it didn’t stick forever, because our middle brother started calling him Augie again when my oldest brother and his wife had a boy and named him Augustus the fourth.”

“I’m sorry I made fun of your name. You know, when we were signing the contract.”

He laughed then, so loudly that it filled the room, and I couldn’t help but smile. “You were such a little shit that first week.” I joined his laughter, finding it strange that we both had an entirely new perspective. “And I didn’t tell you then, but my name was made fun of.”

“Oh, no. I guess that does make me a shit.”

His smile warmed my heart. “It’s not what you think. When I was young, third or fourth grade maybe, we had our names on our cubbyholes. Mine said S. Whittier. And at recess, the kids would say that equaled Shittier, and they’d say I was shittier than the rest of my family.”

“That’s awful.”

“That’s just kids. Even kids from affluence can be mean. But I imagine, from what you’ve told me, that you had it worse.”

But I didn’t want to talk about it anymore—and he might have felt the same way. “It’s in the past now.” Even being treated as an outsider as a young adult was behind me…because I was here now.

And, as I fell asleep next to him, I couldn’t think of another place I’d rather be.

Almost a week later, I’d finally finished and submitted my application to DU for the spring semester.

But it wasn’t applying to college that made me feel so giddy. I’d spent every night with Sinclair—Cory—since the night we’d talked about our pasts, and he made me feel like a woman. One thing I was fairly certain about was that he didn’t feel the same way about me. I could tell he found me irresistible and he enjoyed our time together, but he wasn’t falling over the edge of an emotional precipice like I was.

That had to be due to one of two things: either experience or gender.

As the days passed, though, I realized I couldn’t stop my heart from embracing him fully—and my brain didn’t want to. So I simply let my feelings buoy me throughout the day until I could return to his arms at night.

Sex didn’t hurt at all anymore and it felt so good, every last second of it—and then being held by him throughout the night was like icing on the cake. I’d never felt so loved, so free—and I tried to push the shame to the back of my mind…because, regardless of how I felt about him, my lover was still Sinclair Whittier. If a leopard couldn’t change its spots, could a Whittier?

Still, I clung to the hope that he was not his father. I realized that every word he uttered could be a lie—and, even if it wasn’t, it was possible that he was wrong. If he despised his father, he surely wouldn’t admit to himself that he was like the man…even if he was.

So I tried not to focus on all that and only dwelt on what I knew for certain. I knew he made my body feel good, and that somehow seemed to help my heart, my soul. It was a kind of validation I’d never had growing up. That wasn’t my father’s fault. He’d done everything he could to make sure I knew I was loved and how many times had he told me how brilliant and clever I was? Although I didn’t need the validation of my peers back in Winchester, it felt good to have it here. I didn’t need it, but I certainly appreciated it.

And after spending so many nights with Sinclair, I truly felt I could fully embrace womanhood in a way I never had before. He showed me what my body was meant for, and it responded to his touch like he owned it. Although I’d never been with another man, I was certain Sinclair was a good lover—based on how good he made me feel and how attentive he was to my needs.

My body had already become his willing slave.

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