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

Chapter 16

16

IRENE

Irene’s mind was spinning wildly out of control with every thought, emotion, and feeling swirling with him. She never expected to hear from Eric again, much less end up threatened and for Barrett to handle it like he did?

Her knees were wobbling.

No, that was probably the sexiest thing that her husband could have done, and if she thought she was falling for him before – well, she just crashed hard, slamming fully into the ‘I-love-you-mountain’ where she was content to lie forever and a day.

She would never forget his outraged expression on her behalf, and instead of feeling scared or threatened like when Eric had raised a hand to her… she felt safe. Barrett cared, and it showed in so many small ways and to Eric, they were inconveniences to be dealt with in his life.

That was the difference.

Even something as simple as walking into the house, Barrett treated her like a queen. He held the door to the garage open for her and Stephen before following them in. He’d set his keys down, brushed a kiss against her cheek, before gently nudging Stephen toward the living room where his crummy couch sat. The duo had outvoted her, deciding to keep it because it was ‘finally broken in’ – and plopped down together.

One game before bed, remember?

Can I pick the game?

Always, buddy… Barrett motioned before looking over his shoulder at Irene. “I promised him a game, but do you want to do something for yourself? Do you want some coffee? A cup of hot tea? Or maybe soak in a bath?”

And there it was – the simple reminder that things were different between them now, but he was going to let her call the shots.

“I’ll figure out something,” she replied as he smiled at her. Gosh, she loved his smile and the way his dark eyes would shine when he let down his guard. Was this even the same man she’d met a month ago? How had she fallen in love with him so easily and so fast?

Irene left her purse on the counter and moved toward the bedroom, tossing a glance toward Barrett – only to see him watching her once more. His head jerked back to the television suddenly as he exclaimed in disbelief, signing quickly.

Hey! Are you cheating? You can’t kill off your partner in the game buddy, and you just shoved me off the cliff.

You were making that goofy look at Mom again.

I’m gonna do that a lot!

Then you’re going to LOSE a lot , Stephen shot back vehemently causing both to laugh in unison. They shared another knowing look over her son’s dark head. Irene sat back, watching the easy camaraderie between her son and Barrett, warmth unfurling deep in her chest.

Barrett motioned with his controller before speaking, his voice full of challenge. “Let’s give your mom a little time and play another round – for real this time.”

Irene wiggled her fingers at him in a playful wave, catching the way his lips parted, the slight furrow between his brows as his gaze flickered toward her. He muttered something under his breath—something she couldn’t quite make out—but it made his jaw tighten.

Then, as if shaking off whatever thought had momentarily snagged his focus, he let out a nervous chuckle, shifting his attention back to the game. “Would you just go? You’re killing me, Troll doll…”

“I’m going,” she teased, arching a brow at him. “And don’t be too long.”

“I won’t,” Barrett promised hoarsely, his voice rasping with distraction, his focus wholly locked on the screen as his fingers worked frantically over the controller. Beside him, Stephen mirrored his intensity, his tiny tongue sticking out in concentration as he bobbed and weaved, fingers flying. The seven-year-old was clearly dominating, and Barrett, ever the competitive one, was struggling to keep up.

Irene lingered for a moment, taking it all in—the laughter, the lighthearted teasing, the way Barrett had seamlessly stepped into their world. This was her family. And it was wonderful.

She slipped away into the bedroom, her heart full, her steps light. In the bathroom, she turned the faucet, letting the tub begin to fill as she reached for the bottle of vanilla bubble bath that hadn’t been there the day before.

It was funny, really—how little things kept appearing around the house. A delicate crystal ring holder sat on her nightstand now, placed there without a word. A bottle of Barrett’s cologne rested beside his toothbrush on the sink, a quiet claim of space. There were other small touches, too—things neither of them spoke about, but both of them had done. She was guilty of leaving a few of her own, just as he had, and the realization made something in her chest go tight with emotion.

Their bathroom was the kind of place she’d only ever seen in magazines—elegant, luxurious, impossibly beautiful. The floors were a smooth, cool marble that continued seamlessly into the oversized walk-in shower. Barrett had added textured strips to the tiles after nearly slipping once, grumbling under his breath about how it was an accident waiting to happen. She’d laughed then, but the gesture had settled deep in her heart, one of a thousand tiny ways he looked out for her.

And the bathtub?

That was her favorite part.

Nestled in a private alcove, it had a curtain she could pull closed, offering the illusion of solitude even when the rest of the room was open. A small, recessed shelf held candles and bottles, a towel hook was within easy reach, and above it all hung an adjustable chandelier that cast a warm, golden glow when dimmed just right. She switched it on low, the gentle light making the space feel cozy and intimate.

Stepping into the bedroom while the tub filled, she moved to her dresser, pulling open a drawer with a sense of anticipation. She wanted something different tonight—something silky, something that would make Barrett look at her the way he did when he thought she wasn’t watching. But as her fingers skimmed over the neatly folded cotton of her usual pajamas, she hesitated. She hadn’t bought anything like that in years, not since things had unraveled between her and Eric. And now, with her baby bump rounding her belly, it wasn’t like any of it would fit right anyway.

A sigh slipped past her lips as she grabbed her regular pajamas and tossed them onto the bed. It didn’t matter. She’d get something soon. Something soft, something beautiful. Maybe even something that would knock her husband’s socks off.

Stripping out of her clothes, she sank into the tub, the warm water wrapping around her like a long embrace. The scent of vanilla curled in the steam, the bubbles rising up to meet her skin in soft, fragrant waves. From down the hall, she could still hear the sound of their laughter, light and free, threading through the walls like a melody.

And for the first time in a long, long time, she let herself go. She let the water cradle her, let the weight of the day slip from her shoulders. Let herself exist in this moment, safe and whole and… happy.

Was this what it felt like to be loved? To be part of something that didn’t just hold together but thrived? To be free, not just from fear, but from the heaviness of a past that no longer had a claim on her?

Her eyes fluttered shut, a slow smile curving her lips. If this was what it meant to be loved, then I never want to let it go , she thought simply, sinking a little lower into the deep tub and resting. She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, but she was almost to the point of nodding off when she heard the bedroom door shut in the distance.

Cracking one eye open, she stared at the back of the curtain that was tucked to the side with a large silvery ornate hook and held her breath, listening, waiting. He was walking around the bedroom silently, and giving her space… and that wouldn’t do.

“Who won?” she asked simply, breaking the ice.

“Who do you think?” he chuckled softly. “Stephen is vicious when it comes to Mario Cart.”

“Ah,” Irene smiled and bit her lip, wondering what to say next – only to see his shadow appear on the wall nearby. Steam curled in thick tendrils from the warm bathwater, wrapping around her like an embrace. The scent of lavender and vanilla lingered in the air, a soft contrast to the heavy thrum of her heart as she heard his voice—deep, rough with something unreadable—just beyond the curtain where he was standing.

“Want me to wash your back?” Barrett’s voice was hoarse, the sound of it sending an unexpected shiver down her spine. The thick fringe of the shower curtain swayed as he waved a washcloth beneath it, making the movement seem almost playful.

“I mean, as friends, you know? Everyone’s got the same stuff, and well, I can be an adult about this. I promise not to shout ‘boobies’ or something of the sort…”

His chuckle was rich, warm—so unmistakably him —that Irene found herself smiling even as a flush crept up her neck.

“I thought nothing of the sort,” she murmured, shifting slightly, allowing the warm water to lap against her skin. She turned, presenting her back to him, the vulnerability of the movement making her breath hitch. “And I think it would be amazing. I’ve never had anyone wash my back before—plus, I put enough bubble bath in here to leave suds everywhere for a week.”

“Bummer,” he muttered. The curtain rustled slightly, and then she felt it—his presence—so near, so solid. Over her shoulder, his gaze met hers, dark and unreadable, his throat moving as he swallowed hard.

“I’ll be good,” he vowed, voice thick with sincerity. “No lines crossed. I swear it—and we can talk.”

“I believe you,” she whispered, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her chin atop them. Then, warmth—gentle, reverent—spread across her shoulder as the washcloth touched her skin, his touch both careful and tender.

“What do you want to talk about?” she asked, her voice quieter than she intended.

“Us. You.” He cleared his throat, the weight of his words settling between them like something fragile and precious. “You can trust me with anything, Irene… and it hurt that you were afraid to tell me about Eric.”

Her chest tightened. The water no longer felt quite as warm. “I just didn’t want it to affect us.”

“Anything that takes your smile away affects us,” he murmured, dragging the washcloth slowly down her back, the sensation so soothing she nearly closed her eyes. “I love your smile. The way you look at me. And if anything changes that, then I feel a caveman’s need to correct it, you know?”

“A caveman, huh?” she teased, her voice softer now, touched with something she couldn’t name.

“Me, Barrett…” he grunted playfully, shifting closer, his presence making her pulse skip. “You… mine.”

Emotion surged up, thick and undeniable. She turned her head slightly, just enough to meet his gaze over her shoulder.

“I am,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “And you’re mine.”

“Always,” he vowed, his tone rough with feeling. “I’m always going to be yours, even when you want to get mad, feel frustrated, or whatever—I’m yours. I believe in marriage, in partners, in whatever this is, because I never want you to feel like you felt before with your ex-husband.” He paused, his fingers flexing slightly around the cloth before he dipped it into the water again, smoothing it across her shoulder blade. “You are my home, my wife, my heart, and… and I need to see this soft, content, happy side of you because it fills something precious within me, Irene.”

The confession hung in the air between them, heavy and raw, settling deep within her. She turned her head, her eyes finding his—so earnest, so full of something she hadn’t dared to hope for in so long. He wasn’t just speaking words. He was giving them to her, a piece of himself she hadn’t even realized she needed.

Neither of them spoke. He simply continued washing her shoulders, his touch gentle, reverent, as if she were something to be treasured.

Then, his voice—hoarse, almost breaking.

“You are the only woman I would ever crawl to.”

The words sent something sharp and aching through her chest, and then his lips—warm, soft, real—pressed against her damp shoulder in a whisper of devotion.

“I love you, Irene.”

The depth of it nearly shattered her.

“I love you,” she breathed, her voice trembling, her chest so tight with emotion she could barely get the words out. “And you never have to crawl.”

Silence stretched between them, the weight of the moment so tangible it was almost suffocating.

And then, her lips curved.

“Now, are you getting in the tub—or am I getting out?”

“Irene…”

“Don’t, Barrett.”

His hesitation was almost endearing. “You don’t have to do anything?—”

“That’s not what I asked you,” she chuckled, watching as his expression shifted—surprise, then something softer, something like relief. And then, finally, he smiled.

Without another word, he leaned back, tugging his shirt over his head, pausing just long enough for her to drink in the sight of him before tossing it aside.

“You think there’s enough room?” he asked, his voice rich with amusement.

“Only one way to find out, Dumpster fire ,” she teased, grinning as he rolled his eyes. “…But on one condition.”

His brow lifted. “What’s that?”

“I’m putting enough shampoo in both of our hair to make us both look like Troll dolls,” she threatened, her heart so light, so ridiculously full, she barely recognized herself.

Barrett whooped in delight, springing to his feet. In an instant, his sneakers went flying—one landing in the toilet with an unfortunate splosh, the other bouncing loudly off the cabinet.

And then— chaos .

With zero hesitation, he dove into the tub, still clad in his jeans, sending water splashing everywhere —over the sides, onto the floor, probably halfway down the hall. She squealed as warm suds sloshed against her, but before she could scold him, his arms were around her, his laughter against her cheek, his hands on her waist, his heart in his kiss.

“My shoe just died a watery death, wife…” he murmured, nuzzling his nose against hers.

“So it did, husband,” she chuckled, breathless and alive in a way she hadn’t felt in years. And maybe… maybe this was what love was supposed to feel like.

Messy.

Joyful.

Unapologetically full of life.

“Wanna go shopping together?”

She arched a brow. “You’re asking me this now ?”

“Oh no,” he rasped, his voice suddenly lower, richer. “Now I’m gonna make love to my wife. Shopping comes much later.”

She grinned, heart thundering in her chest making her pulse race with happiness and excitement. “Not with those jeans on, buddy.”

He smirked, leaning in until their lips were just a breath apart. “I think we should fix that…”

“I think so,” she whispered, melting as he kissed her again, his arms pulling her closer, holding her like she was something worth keeping. And for the first time in a long time?

Irene believed it.

“ I ’m getting this framed,” Irene laughed tenderly as he chuckled beside her. They were sitting on the couch together, snuggling, as Stephen watched his Saturday morning cartoons.

The words were scrolling across the bottom of the screen as Stephen sat there on his knees, reading, and wiggling every once in a while, before laughing at whatever was happening… and she was lost in a cloud of happiness as she held up her cell phone for Barrett to see the image that captured their souls in an instant.

His playful kiss on her temple, mixed with his laughter, was enough to tell her she was safely on the right track. That was the one thing about Barrett that felt like such a miracle – that everything was simply ‘okay’ with him, so long as she was happy. When he’d made love to her last night, he’d gone out of his way to make it something fun and exciting, laughing with her several times and holding her close to him in order to share in the moment.

He never pushed her away.

He never left her alone.

And he certainly didn’t focus on his own experience, rather holding back and making sure she enjoyed the intimate moments between them. In fact, when they were finished later, he’d gotten up and cleaned the water off the floor that they’d splashed everywhere during their playfulness before moving to the bedroom. She’d tried to get up, and he shushed her back into bed, both laughing.

The photo on the cell phone was a moment she would never forget. They were both smiling, both laughing, and Barrett had his eyes crossed with his tongue sticking out to the side… complete with shampoo ‘mountains’ of hair on their head, looking like a couple of Troll dolls. They had laughed so hard, pulling and twisting each other’s locks up. Hers kept falling over, but his held for just a brief few seconds for the photo.

“Maybe if we put some mousse or gel in your hair then…”

“Nooo… no you don’t,” he laughed, curling around her and kissing her as he tickled. “Only you get to see that – and if you print it, do it quickly, before they start running commercials and stuff next month. I’m gonna lose any and all anonymity very soon.”

“Oh?”

“Yep, one of the catches of my contract was that my agent negotiated two endorsements to start… and we’re filming next month.”

“We?”

“Yep – me and Lafreniere.”

“The frowny-guy?”

“He’s actually pretty nice once you get past the ‘frowny’ stuff. Honestly, I hope this goes well for him because he’s in a lot of pain sometimes. I’ve seen him doing his stretches at random weird times or limping and…”

“Oh no…”

“I know. His hip and knee bother him, but it’s to be expected. Hockey players ‘age out’ eventually when our fight against the abuse our bodies takes finally wins. You have to have a game plan for later.”

“What’s your game plan?”

“I’ve got a few ideas,” he smiled secretively and wagged his eyebrows at her – and Irene didn’t press the issue. If he didn’t want to tell her, that was fine. He was entitled to his secrets, she thought – only to see his face fall. “Well, heck, seriously? Are you not going to ask?”

“I did,” she scoffed, turning slightly and meeting his eyes only to see him soften slightly.

“I know, but it’s flattering and gives me a cheap thrill when you beg,” he pouted, but his eyes were dancing.

“Please? Oh pretty, pretty please tell me, Dumpster Fire?” she mocked, batting her eyelashes at him.

“Much better,” he chuckled approvingly. “You could have left off the ‘dumpster fire,’ but it works. Well, when things change, I was looking at possibly seeing if I could get a position as a sports commentator on a network – or coaching.”

“Seriously?” she asked, her eyes huge.

“Yeah,” he nodded, his expression turning grave. “Irene, no one knows, so you can’t say a word to anyone. I’ve been saving all these years, since I was eighteen, and socking it away to buy a team someday.”

“Oh my gosh, how much do you have saved?” she gaped, shocked. “Is that why you weren’t living in one of those big fancy mansions?”

“Hey, it was a nice place,” he mocked dramatically – and then nodded. “If it doesn’t happen, then I’ve got enough to keep us comfortable for a long time, if I can find something else.”

“That’s incredible.”

“I don’t know about ‘incredible’,” he smiled tenderly and touched her growing stomach. “To me, this is incredible. Stephen is incredible . Our love and how we found each other is incredible .”

“I love you – and I really need to tell Batiste thank you,” she chuckled, smiling at him.

“I already did,” he whispered softly. “I sent him a huge basket with all sorts of pastries and cat toys.”

“Where did you find a place to make a basket like that?”

“Lafreniere’s sister owns a bakery, and Madeline is a gem.”

“Uh, no,” she frowned. “You don’t get to fawn over other women.”

“Are you jealous? Honey, you have nothing to be jealous over because I’m not looking, not when…” Barrett paused, uncurling his arm from her waist and signing. She felt like a bad mom because she didn’t even notice Stephen getting up from his cartoon. “Hey buddy, is your show over?”

Are you tickling Mommy?

No, she replied quickly, smiling. But I can tickle you!

Are we having a… tickle fight? Barrett teased.

Noooo, Stephen laughed, shaking his head and backing away – only for Barrett to grab his arm protectively as she signed quickly in alarm, both of them moving quickly toward the boy.

Hang on and watch your feet – you almost stepped on the game controller, and we don’t want you to fall into the television or the glass cabinet. You’ll get hurt.

Sorry, he motioned as Barrett released him.

I’m hungry, Barrett signed and looked at her. How about we make lunch together in a little bit and take our coffee – and hot cocoa – out onto the deck to see if we can see any deer.

Mommy said there are bears here.

Yes, there are.

I wanna see a moose someday, Stephen signed emphatically.

Not me, Barrett gestured, his eyes huge. They are scary and mean – like your mommy when she doesn’t have her coffee.

Irene looked at him and he shied away, pretending, as Stephen made a choked laugh. Barrett met her eyes, his warm gaze melting with emotion as he looked at her and signed for her son’s sake.

Let’s spend the day in our pajamas, be together, and just have fun today. We can play games, relax, and hang out – all of us. Nothing big, nothing exciting, but a moment to unwind together as a family.

Irene felt her heart tighten, the tenderness of his words wrapping around her like a long-forgotten embrace. A family. The word held weight and carried memories, dreams, and hopes she’d scarcely dared to whisper. She glanced toward Stephen, watching the quiet eagerness bloom on his small face.

“I would love that,” she said softly, her voice carrying more than agreement—it carried gratitude, quiet and deep. She gestured, her gaze meeting Stephen’s, waiting for his response.

Me, too .

His reply was simple, but it was enough to send warmth spilling through her chest.

Barrett nodded, his expression unreadable but sure, as if this moment, this day, was something he had already decided was theirs to claim.

“Then it’s settled,” he gestured, speaking gently to Irene as well. “I’m going to get the coffee. Go get your slippers, buddy, and brush your teeth – and we’ll hang out on the deck for a little while.”

Stephen grinned, his little feet pattering across the wooden floor as he hurried off, leaving a trail of quiet excitement in his wake. The moment he disappeared down the hall, Irene felt the shift in the air before she even turned.

Barrett was still there, close, watching her with a look that made the floor beneath her feel unsteady. There was something unreadable in his gaze, something deeper than words.

“I haven’t finished my first cup of coffee,” she murmured, tilting her head as she studied him, pretending not to notice the way her pulse quickened beneath his stare.

He exhaled slowly, a small, knowing smirk curving his lips.

“I know – I just needed a minute.”

And before she could ask what for, before she could brace herself against the quiet intensity that always seemed to radiate from him, he pulled her close. The kiss that followed wasn’t hurried or teasing—it was slow, searing, a brand of warmth that stole the air from her lungs. It was the kind of kiss that promised things she wasn’t sure she was ready to believe in but found herself wanting all the same.

By the time he pulled away, her toes were curled against the hardwood floor, her breath unsteady, her coffee long forgotten.

A minute?

That was all he needed?

And heaven help her, there wasn’t enough minutes in a lifetime for the amount of kissing that she wanted to do. She could cheerfully spend a lifetime holding onto these feelings he created within her with a simple look, a touch, or a smile. He was everything to her, and that knowing smile combined with the look in his eyes could only be described as molten and intimate as he held her gaze, speaking softly as she tensed at the sound of Stephen headed back in their direction, his feet padding down the hallway along the wood floors.

“Maybe tonight, when we are alone, I could have more than a few minutes…?” he invited, caressing her cheek with his fingertip.

“You can have them all.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he chuckled intimately as Stephen was already there, tapping Barrett on the shoulder.

Ugh! Quit kissing, and let’s go, Daddy.

“Duty calls,” he smiled – and winked.

“I’ll get the coffee,” she chuckled. “Go.”

C’mon, Daddy – I want to see the deer. There was a rabbit yesterday by the tree line.

“I love you,” he said softly, getting to his feet and holding out a hand to help her off the couch, meeting her eyes – and she smiled.

“I love you, too - and don’t forget we have the family get-together at the arena later.”

“Is it too late to call in?” Barrett asked, openly whining playfully.

She just smiled.