Page 93 of Hot Ice, Tennessee

All I knew was that this conversation was hard to take. All casual, calm, and surface-level, making me feel like I was yet again holding in a lie.

“I’ll be right back,” I said, and I stood up too quickly. “Just… want a little air.”

The bar stool made a bad sound on the floor as I moved it, and I gave Mason a sympathetic look before heading out front.

I leaned against the brick exterior of the building. The last time I’d been leaning on the front wall of the Hard Spot like this, I’d been drunk, and unknowingly only a few minutes away from bringing Mason home.

Today was different.

The air was still hot and buzzing outside. The sun was only now starting to set, and it likely wasn’t the kind of day where the summer heat was going to relent much at night.

And the people of Bestens were out in droves, roaming around Laurel Ave and Second Street, the intersection a hub of activity. The air smelled like beer, barbecue, and freshly planted tulips. I looked out past the Hard Spot lot, watching the people go by, laughing and talking and generally doing a whole lot better than I was right now.

Two guys walked out of the Red Fox Diner across the street. I didn’t pay much attention to them until I heard a familiar bellowing laugh carry across the air, and my stomach went sour.

Elliot.

Since fucking when did he bring his friends to hang out here?

I thought I was going to be able to get back inside before he noticed me, but my movement caught his eye. As he crossed the street I weighed two options in my mind: I could go inside, then risk dragging his ass right into my brother’s bar. I didn’t want Kane to have to deal with his bullshit, but I alsoreallydidn’t want Mason to get caught up in it, either.

But my only other option was to stay out here and field him myself.

“Fuck are you doing here?” he asked as he crossed the street.

“Enjoying my evening,” I said, “until now, that is.”

“Sanocki, always acting like you’re better than everybody else,” Elliot said. “Hat trick fucking evaporated into the air, because of you.”

“Can you quit talking about the hat trick?”

The guy who was with Elliot hadn’t followed him across the street. He was patiently waiting, sitting down on the ledge of the fountain over by the other side of the road. I didn’t know him, and he looked young, like he might still be a freshman or sophomore.

Elliot was still up in my grill, coming at me like he was looking to finish the fight we never had out on the ice. He turned around, looking to make sure no one was in earshot, then leaned closer to me.

“Not going to forget it, Jesse,” he said. “You’re all fuckin’ jealous still because I pickedherinstead of you. Get over it.”

I puffed out a bitter laugh, recoiling from him as he stepped forward. “Jealous sure as hell isn’t the word, Elliot.”

“Then what?”

“Relieved,” I said. “I dodged a fucking bullet. Every minute I spent with you was a waste of time.”

“Elliot,” his buddy called over from across the street. He didn’t look back.

“Liar.”

“Trust me,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “I can’t wait until this year is over and I never have to look at you again.”

A raw anger flashed through his eyes. His friend was still watching him, and in a moment he broke out into a jog, coming over and grabbing Elliot by the arm.

“Come on,” the guy said. “Setting up the tent is going to take a while, I think we should get on the road.”

My eyes went wide.

Setting up the tent.

Setting up the tent?

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