Cold as (N)ice (Sticks and Vows #1)

Chapter 14

14

IRENE

Irene sat on the back deck overlooking the stunning yard that backed up to a forest. She loved that they saw deer in the morning and lightning bugs at dusk, but they were always careful after being informed by Barrett that there had been sightings of bears and even a moose in the area. No, this was certainly a different part of the world, and for a Texas girl, it blew her mind. There was nothing as shocking as walking down a cobblestone street to get to a bakery with your husband, hearing the languages flow around you, realizing that your home was a different country… only to hear her phone ping in the distance.

Getting up, she motioned to Stephen.

Don’t go down the stairs or into the forest without me – got it?

I won’t! he signed back quickly, eyes huge. Daddy showed me how tall a moose could be and I don’t want to meet one ever.

Daddy? She smiled. Barrett is ‘daddy’ now?

Isn’t he, though?

I suppose he is.

Do you think he would get mad if I called him Daddy?

I think he would love it and probably hug you.

He feels like my daddy, he gestured and hesitated, his face torn. He’s more like my daddy than my father.

That’s perfectly okay to feel that way, she told him, giving him a tender look full of understanding. It’s a weird position to be in, isn’t it?

Yeah.

Your feelings are normal, and home is a safe place. Remember what Barrett said – you can be you here, and it will always be accepted because that is what home is.

I really like him, Stephen said shyly. I’m really glad he’s my dad now.

I am, too.

And the baby will like him also because he’s a nice daddy.

Are you excited about the baby? She asked, having told him the good news when he got home from school this afternoon. He had been so thrilled about the upcoming addition, and it made her heart warm to see his easy acceptance.

Very! I hope it’s a boy so we can play together.

I will just be happy with whatever it is.

But a boy, Stephen signed again, smirking so much like Barrett in that moment that she laughed.

Fine – a boy or a girl, she added deliberately, playing with him.

Boy… boy… boy.

A soft chuckle slipped from Irene’s lips as she stepped away from the counter, making her way toward the kitchen island where her phone sat charging.

The house was quiet.

The only sound was the faint hum of the refrigerator and the rhythmic ticking of the clock above the stove. The warmth of the overhead lights cast a golden glow across the granite countertop, making everything feel safe, normal—how she wanted things to be.

Reaching for her phone, she fully expected to see a text from Barrett, maybe letting her know when he’d be home. Just something simple. Something steady. But as soon as her gaze landed on the screen, the air in the room seemed to thin.

Not Barrett.

Eric.

Her stomach clenched, dread coiling low in her belly as her finger hovered over the notification. She shouldn’t open it. She didn’t want to open it. But she already knew—ignoring him wouldn’t make him go away. Holding her breath, she tapped the screen.

The words struck like a slap to the face.

You moved out of the country? Seriously? What kind of mother rips her kid away from his father? You are such a selfish and horrible woman – but that’s fine. Two can play this game. You want to mess with me? Well, I don’t want to play. I’m sick of your games. You have 24 hours to drag the both of you back to Texas or else!

And you don’t want the else!

Irene’s breath hitched, and she gripped the edge of the counter to steady herself. The world tilted for a moment, nausea rising in her throat as she read the words again, then again, as if, somehow, they might change.

But they didn’t.

Her fingers trembled as she typed, every keystroke carrying the weight of years of exhaustion, of battles fought alone, of a past she had scraped and clawed her way free from.

We’re not doing this – and I told you to leave me alone. We aren’t married and haven’t been for over a year. You didn’t want anything to do with Stephen and told me to get rid of this baby. I’m happy – can’t you be happy for me and respect my boundaries?

Go away!

The words felt hollow. Useless.

Eric wouldn’t listen.

He never did.

The phone buzzed violently in her palm, Eric’s name flashing across the screen. A sharp pulse of fear shot through her, primal and immediate. She hit the side button, silencing the call, refusing to answer, refusing to hear whatever threats or manipulations he had lined up next.

Her heart pounded as she stared at the darkened screen, her mind racing. She had been so careful. So sure she was finally safe. But just like that, with a single message, he had shattered the illusion of peace.

And the worst part?

She was happy.

For the first time in longer than she could remember, she had something good, something real. Everything with Barrett still felt so new, so tentative, but it was honest. It was something she hadn’t even dared to hope for. She wasn’t forcing it, wasn’t pretending to be someone she wasn’t just to be wanted.

She was herself.

And—heaven help her—Barrett liked her .

She swallowed hard, suddenly feeling like the walls of the house were pressing in on her, trapping her. She wasn’t safe here. Not with Eric lurking in the shadows of her past, threatening to drag her back.

Her fingers flew as she gestured to Stephen nearby.

Let’s meet Barrett for dinner somewhere. I need to get out of the house.

She didn’t explain. Didn’t have to.

Okay!

No hesitation. No questions. Just absolute trust from her son. Without giving herself time to second-guess, she opened a new text message to Barrett.

Hey, change of plans. We’ll meet you at the rink and grab dinner out. My phone isn’t working, so I’m turning it off.

See you soon.

The lie tasted bitter, but she couldn’t bear the thought of Eric’s name popping up again, couldn’t stand the idea of Barrett seeing the fear in her eyes if she stayed. She needed to breathe. Needed to get away.

Before she could change her mind, she powered down her phone, shoving it deep into her purse as if that alone could keep the past from reaching her.

She turned toward the living room where Stephen sat, putting on his shoes, completely unaware of the storm brewing around them. For him, she had to keep it that way.

Come on, sweetheart, she said, forcing her expression to stay light, steady. Let’s go see Barrett.

Stephen grinned, scrambling to his feet, his excitement easing the tightness in her chest, if only for a moment. His shoes weren’t even tied yet, but then again, he could tie them in the car. She needed air – fast.

She gathered her purse, keys, and coat, ushering Stephen toward the garage. The moment she saw the sleek, new minivan sitting there, something inside her cracked.

Barrett had given her that. Not because she asked. Not because she expected it. But because he saw her and understood her in ways no one else ever had. Some women longed for diamonds, for grand gestures, for whispered promises wrapped in velvet and lace. But not her.

She wanted safety.

And Barrett had given it to her.

The van meant she could leave—whenever she needed to. That she wouldn’t be trapped again, wouldn’t have to wait for a car that wouldn’t start, wouldn’t be stranded with no way out.

Her throat tightened as she buckled in and Stephen hopped into his seat. This was her life now. A good life. A better life.

She wasn’t about to let Eric take it from her – no matter how scared and threatened she felt right now. She wasn’t going back to Texas where he could rattle her like a person shaking a snow globe whenever he felt like it. No, her home was here. She just needed to figure out how to keep things from falling apart.

And she had twenty-four hours to come up with an ironclad plan.

A rriving at the rink, Irene sat in the van for several minutes, unsure what to say, think, or do. She wasn’t sure what time Barrett got off of work and didn’t want to interrupt him, but pregnancy was forcing her hand distinctly in another direction.

She had to go to the bathroom.

Sighing, she picked up her purse off the floorboard and signed to Stephen.

Let’s find a potty, and maybe we can watch Barrett practice from the stands or something. I’m not sure if we’ll see him or if he’s in the locker room.

I should have worn my new shirt.

Me too, buddy, me too , she frowned in awareness, getting out of the car. As they walked up to the building, a security guard was waiting at the door and said something in French to her.

“Whoaaa-boy,” she muttered under her breath and hesitated, speaking the only phrase she knew in broken French. “Parlez vous anglaise?”

“Can I ‘elp you?”

“I’m Barrett Coeur’s wife and…”

“Can I see your ID card?”

Pulling out her driver’s license from Texas, she grimaced. She didn’t have a new one yet and it still had her other name on it. The man looked at her skeptically and she gave a meek little shrug.

“With the move, I couldn’t get my passport and driver’s license changed quickly – but if you want to check with someone while I use the bathroom…” she hedged, her bladder screaming silently and nearly let out a sigh of relief as they were taken inside and physically escorted to the restrooms down the hall.

Wait here, Stephen, she hesitated. Do not move.

I won’t. I promise, Mommy.

Darting into the bathroom, she was out in record time only to see Barrett walking up, looking stunned, and dressed in his deep blue uniform – covered in sweat.

“Irene? Is everything okay?” he asked, looking concerned and afraid. “Are you all right, Troll doll? When security called back and…”

“I’m fine,” she smiled, already feeling better. “We wanted to surprise you, and I guess you didn’t get your text message.”

“Not yet,” he chuckled and signed to include Stephen in their conversation. “C’mon you two – you can watch from the penalty box that’s right on the ice. Everyone will want to meet you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Oh yeah,” he chuckled. “They are big on family – which is why we are going to the get-together Saturday.”

He clasped Stephen’s hand and leaned forward to kiss her softly on the lips, whispering to her. “I missed you.”

“It’s been four hours.”

“Still counts…”

Irene smiled shyly as he winked at her and made his way down the hallway with each of them on either side. She couldn’t help but feel a burst of pride and awareness as they entered the arena – and glanced at Stephen. Her son’s mouth was open in amazement, eyes huge, as he looked around with stars practically glittering from his enraptured expression.

“Come,” Barrett invited again – and turned to Stephen. The guys are going to want to say hello, so take it easy on them.

Do they sign?

I showed them how to say hello – and how to say ‘dumpster fire’…

Stephen’s laugh was loud enough to announce their entrance as Irene caught Barrett’s warm smile before calling out to his team.

The moment they stepped into the arena, Irene felt the chill of the ice curling around her ankles, a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from Barrett’s broad frame beside her. The scent of freshly resurfaced ice mingled with the crisp, metallic tang of the rink, and the distant scrape of skates against the frozen surface echoed through the vast space.

Barrett’s voice rang out, strong and sure, the timbre of it reverberating in her chest as he called out, “Hey guys—I have a guest.” His hands moved fluidly in the air as he signed for Stephen’s benefit, his attentiveness to their son an unconscious, endearing habit that made her heart squeeze. “Coach Starnes, this is my wife, Irene—and our son, Stephen.”

Before she had a chance to take a steadying breath, a flurry of movement surrounded her. Names blurred together, accompanied by firm handshakes and easy, welcoming grins. Each man took a moment to acknowledge Stephen, crouching slightly to his level, greeting him with warmth and genuine interest. The boy was transfixed, his wide eyes darting between them, his small hands twitching with excitement as he clutched the fabric of her coat. She felt the tremor of his enthusiasm in the way his body vibrated against hers, his awe a tangible thing.

“Is this our honorary guard?” A new voice chimed in, low and amused. His jersey said, ‘Savage’ and she recognized the name from Barrett.

This was the new captain.

The tall blond man with sun-streaked hair murmured something to Barrett, who grinned—one of those roguish, boyish grins that had once made her breath hitch. Before she could process what was happening, both men scooped Stephen up between them and carried him onto the ice.

A startled gasp caught in her throat, but it melted into something else entirely as she watched Stephen’s delighted shrieks echo through the rink. They each held onto a piece of him—one gripping an arm, the other a leg—while Stephen wielded a hockey stick like a sword, his laughter so uninhibited that it turned into hiccups.

She had never seen him like this. So carefree. So completely unburdened by the worries that had shadowed his young face in recent months.

The other players smiled at her, some nodding in quiet approval, a few waving before drifting back onto the ice. They let Stephen take a shot, exaggerating their efforts to "defend" while clearly letting the boy win. When the puck slid past Lafreniere and into the net, the goalie pretended he hadn’t even seen the puck. Irene caught the knowing smirk he shot her way.

Lafreniere. Another player from the Coyotes who had taken a marriage contract for the team. A man who, despite the circumstances, seemed at peace with the weight of the decision.

A warm, steady hand landed on her shoulder, pulling her from her thoughts. She turned, her gaze meeting the deep-set, weathered eyes of a man with a rugged, Southern drawl that immediately tugged at something deep in her chest. He sounded like home with that accent and recognized his name as well.

“Keith Boucher,” he introduced himself. “Are you coming Saturday to the get-together?”

“Yes,” she answered automatically, caught slightly off guard. “Were you on the Coyotes?” she asked, remembering what little she knew about the team’s past.

“Yeah. I was the captain,” he confirmed, his voice even, though there was something in it—a weight, a memory perhaps—that lingered between them.

She hesitated before asking, “Are you going to be captain here someday too?”

It wasn’t an unreasonable question, just an innocent attempt to understand the dynamic at play. But the moment the words left her mouth, she saw the shift in his expression. His face hardened, his jaw flexing slightly as his gaze drifted toward the ice, where the other men skated with easy camaraderie.

“Soon, but not yet,” he murmured, and without another word, he stepped away, leaving her standing there, feeling the heat of embarrassment creep up her neck.

Irene swallowed, glancing down at her hands, suddenly regretting speaking at all. She hadn’t meant to put her foot in her mouth—it had just slipped out, the way words often did when she wasn’t guarded. Yet another mistake, another problem, making her mind flick back to her biggest problem right now – Eric.

Her eyes flickered back to the ice, drawn as if by instinct to Stephen, her little boy, whose laughter rang through the arena like the sweetest music. His cheeks were flushed, his entire body alight with the sheer joy of the moment, and the sight of it made her heart clench with something dangerously close to tears.

None of this was wrong.

None of this was bad for her son.

And yet, how could she explain that to Eric when he refused to listen? She knew there was no explanation needed from him – he’d refused his own son, gave him away, but still, a part of her needed to settle it in her soul… once and for good. How could she put into words the pure, unfiltered happiness radiating from Stephen, the way he belonged here, as if he had always been meant to be part of this world?

I have to figure this out somehow , she told herself, sinking carefully onto a bench near the penalty box, her fingers curling into the fabric of her sleeves. She watched, unmoving, as the team gathered around Stephen, effortlessly pulling him into their orbit as if he were one of their own. No hesitation, no second-guessing—just easy acceptance, the kind she had always wanted for him.

Then she saw it.

A tiny jersey.

Stephen’s very own jersey.

Her breath caught in her throat as he slipped it on, his tiny hands smoothing the fabric with awe. Across his back, stitched in bold letters, was COEUR . Her eyes stung, and she swallowed hard, pressing her lips together to keep the flood of emotion at bay. Barrett had mentioned something about jerseys, but hearing it and seeing it were two very different things.

This was real. This was tangible . And Stephen—her sweet, precious boy—looked up at his hero as if he had just been handed the world.

Her chest ached as her gaze flickered to Barrett. He stood on the ice, his skates firmly planted, his strong frame radiating warmth even from a distance. And then, as if he could feel the pull of her stare, he turned.

He smiled.

A slow, easy smile that reached all the way to his eyes.

And in that single moment, everything else faded—the doubts, the fears, the ghosts of the past. There was no need for words, no need to explain the unspoken certainty settling deep within her bones. She raised a hand, her fingers trembling slightly as she waved back, her heart swelling to a size she hadn't known it could reach. She blew him a kiss… and bless him, he caught it with a playful wink.

I love you , she thought, the words forming as naturally as a breath, as inevitable as the beating of her heart.