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

Chapter 18

18

IRENE

Walking around quietly, Irene nodded and smiled at all the unfamiliar faces. It was so strange to think that these people, these strangers, were now a part of her extended family in some way, shape, or form – and to think that she had a ‘leg-up’ on some of the people gathered, meeting the team for the first time as she looked around the room.

Barrett was standing in the distance talking with Boucher, Lafreniere, and some brunette who looked like she would rather be anywhere else in the world right now. She looked so crestfallen that Irene almost turned to go fish her away, except she saw Stephen run past, laughing, with the little girl, who immediately ran to her mother. The woman said something, nodded, and the little girl ran off – with her son in tow – again .

“Hello,” Irene began easily, trying to be outgoing and helpful. “I hear you are Boucher’s new wife, Constance. I’m Irene Coeur and…”

“Ah, so you are the one.”

“Excuse me?”

“I hear ‘Irene-this’ and ‘Irene-that’ – and frankly, it’s a little frustrating Miss Perfect,” Constance frowned, glaring at her. “Life isn’t perfect, and the fact that you have it so easy is just…”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Irene interrupted quickly, shocked. “First off, I will never say that life is perfect or easy, because it’s certainly not. I’ve spent the last few years in a hellish marriage that finally ended and yes - I lucked out.”

Irene paused and looked back at Barrett, realizing the truth of it. She had truly lucked out because if Theo Batiste had referred her to anyone else, things would have been so different. Not only had he offered her a job and attempted to include her son, but he was everything she could have wished for in a friend, partner, and spouse.

“The only thing perfect is realizing that neither of us is, but we’re flawed enough to need each other and found our way somehow,” Irene said softly, realizing it was true.

Barrett wasn’t perfect, but he was perfect for her because she could look past the childishness that he displayed at times. He played video games too much, left his clothes on the floor, probably spent too much money on things that just weren’t necessary… like her new van, but he tried. He genuinely tried to make her feel special, and that was worth it all.

“My ex drew back to hit me,” Irene whispered, unable to take her eyes from her husband as she talked. “Barrett’s not perfect, but he’s what I need. He’s careful, accepting of my son, quiet, and would never hurt me. Sure, he’s not Prince Charming, but he gave me a kingdom and treats me like a queen.”

“Did you marry him so he could land this job?” Constance snapped.

“Sure did,” Irene replied, not bothering to hide her triumphant tone because it almost felt like bragging at this point. The other woman looked frazzled, rattled, and a little afraid.

“They are just people like us. Remember that,” she smiled at Constance, moving to stand beside her. “Tell me how you met Keith – and we can exchange sob stories about how we ended up in this mess together.”

“Oh, it’s a mess all right,” Constance said thickly and looked at her. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Let’s start at the beginning, my friend,” Irene urged gently seeing that the woman was near tears. and she put an arm around her shoulder. “You’ve got to have someone to talk to and considering how limited English is around here, us Wolverines have to stick together – don’t we?”

T he evening had turned out better than Irene could have hoped. Two hours had passed in a blur of easy conversation and laughter, the kind she hadn’t indulged in for far too long. Sitting at one of the round tables in the large convention center, she and Constance were enjoying their meals from the buffet set up for the hockey team and their families.

The scent of rich, hearty food lingered in the air, mingling with the distant sounds of children’s laughter and the occasional cheer from one of the players goofing off with their kids. Irene felt lighter than she had in weeks—maybe months.

She glanced toward the play area where the children were gathered, her heart swelling at the sight of them safe, happy, and oblivious to the storm she had been bracing herself against for so long. But for tonight, she allowed herself to relax.

Then, Barrett appeared.

She felt him before she saw him—the solid presence of him, the quiet strength that somehow always made her feel safer than she ever had before. His deep voice reached her ears, warm and steady.

“How are you doing?”

She looked up at him, smiling, and meant every word when she said, “Wonderful.”

And she was—at least in this moment.

Then, her phone chimed.

A sharp, unwelcome reminder that peace could always be fleeting – if you let it. Her smile faltered for only a second, her gaze instinctively meeting Barrett’s. There was something unreadable in his expression, something firm and knowing, as if he already suspected who it was. Irene didn’t even bother checking the screen. Instead, she simply picked up her phone and placed it in his waiting hand without hesitation, turning back to Constance as if the interruption hadn’t even happened.

“Would next week be okay?” she asked, her voice smooth, determined to stay in the moment. “I would love to see what you are?—”

“You just gave him your phone… like that?” Constance’s voice broke through, laced with disbelief. Irene could feel her friend’s stare, wide-eyed and incredulous. “Doesn’t he trust you?”

Irene’s lips curled into a knowing smile. “I trust him implicitly to have my back.”

That was the difference.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Barrett frown at the screen, muttering something under his breath before turning on his heel and walking away with purpose.

Constance leaned in, her curiosity clearly piqued. “He’s screening your texts, though?”

Irene exhaled, knowing the explanation would only deepen her friend’s shock. “He’s handling a problem I was married to for a few years—and divorced.” The words felt heavier than they should have, but there was no point in sugarcoating it. “My ex cannot take no for an answer and is threatening to drag me back to the States.”

Constance’s expression morphed from intrigue to concern in an instant. “Irene…”

Before she could say more, Barrett returned, his expression unreadable, but his movements controlled—too controlled. He set her phone down beside her, his jaw tight.

“Eric’s also asking for twenty thousand dollars,” he stated flatly, his voice quiet but edged with something dangerous. Then, softer, his eyes locking onto hers, he added, “I love you—but if he texts or calls, ignore it. Coach Starnes is getting the team’s attorney right now, and I might need to borrow your phone again. I guess we’re adding ‘extortion’ to his list of things now.”

Irene didn’t hesitate. She didn’t second-guess, didn’t pause to analyze, didn’t let doubt creep in like it had so many times before. Instead, she simply slid the phone across the table, the gesture quiet but resolute, her fingers lingering for the briefest of moments before pulling away. Her voice was just as steady, just as sure.

“It’s yours, Barrett.”

The words weren’t spoken lightly. They were an offering, a surrender, a declaration of faith wrapped in something as simple as a phone passed from one hand to another. It was trust—unwavering, complete, absolute.

Barrett didn’t hesitate, either. He didn’t question, didn’t deflect. His hand closed around the device, but his eyes never left hers. Something flickered there—something deep, something raw, something that made her pulse stutter even before he spoke.

“I’ve got your back—always.”

The words hit her with the weight of a promise, the kind that could be etched into stone, unyielding against the elements. A knot formed in her throat as she lifted her gaze, waiting for the soft, familiar brush of his lips against her cheek—the same brief kiss he always gave in moments like this, a quiet assurance, a simple touch that spoke volumes.

But this time was different.

Instead of a fleeting press of lips to the skin, Barrett tilted her chin the slightest bit higher, closing the space between them in a kiss that was anything but simple. His lips moved over hers with a tenderness so unexpected, so devastatingly gentle, that her heart clenched in her chest.

It wasn’t passion. It wasn’t need.

It was something deeper. Something fragile and fierce all at once.

He whispered against her lips before he pulled away, his voice barely more than a breath.

“I love you.”

Then, just like that, he was gone—standing, turning, walking away with the quiet confidence of a man who had made a vow and meant every word of it.

Irene sat frozen for a moment, her fingertips brushing her lips as if trying to hold onto the warmth he’d left behind. When she finally turned, Constance was staring at her, eyes wide, expression caught somewhere between awe and disbelief.

“It’s like that between you?” Constance exhaled softly, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she’d just witnessed. Irene felt the heat rise in her cheeks, but she didn’t look away. Didn’t falter.

She nodded.

Slowly, almost absently, Constance turned to glance toward her own husband in the distance. There was something contemplative in her gaze as if she were weighing Irene’s quiet certainty against her own understanding of what it meant to truly trust someone… her face yearning for so much more. Things would be okay for Constance and Keith if she chose to let him in on what was going on in her mind and in her heart.

But for Irene, there was no need to question, no room for hesitation, no space for fear. Because she knew—knew with unwavering certainty—that Barrett would handle everything, keeping her safe. He was a man who would do whatever it took to protect her.

Not because he had to.

Because he wanted to. Because he chose to.

Because he loved her.

“Constance,” Irene began, softly and carefully. “You should go talk to Keith.”

“I think I should,” the woman said distractedly, rising to her feet as Stephen plopped down beside her, smiling and obviously winded.

I’m tired and need something to drink. Is that my plate? I’m starving – and did you know that Paige is going to learn how to play hockey? I want to, too. I think it would be fun. Can I play hockey like this? He gestured, pointing at his ears in awareness.

Her eyes stung as she smiled at him.

You are perfect and can do anything you want to, my love. We’ll talk to Barrett tonight. I’m sure he will be thrilled to show you how .

Cool! He gestured, picked up a slider, a tiny hamburger, off her plate – and shoved it in his mouth before signing to someone behind her. We’ve gotta talk about hockey – but first, I think we’re playing tag and shot out of his chair, running and chewing.

Irene heard Barrett’s gentle laugh nearby and saw him walk over to her once again as he sat down. His eyes were warm, his smile even more so, as his hand moved under the table to clasp hers, putting it on his leg.

“I missed you,” he murmured. “While you look incredible in my jersey, is it so wrong to wish I could take it off of you?”

“At this moment – yes,” she chuckled, smiling. “But later, all bets are off.”

“Tease,” he whispered affectionately, as he leaned forward, kissing her cheek as she closed her eyes at the sensation. “You know, at first I thought this would be boring tonight, but I see why these events are good now.”

“Oh?”

“Yep. You get to meet people, we get to hang out outside of work, the kids can run free like little heathens, and our son is going to sleep like a log tonight,” he chuckled knowingly as he gave her a heated look.

“Is that all you think about?” she smiled tenderly, completely in love.

“ Puh-lease ,” he pshawed theatrically and then gave her a sly look. “I think about it all the time, in various places, and let my imagination run. I mean, look at you… Irene, you are breathtaking – on the inside and the outside – and I couldn’t be happier.”

“Oh Barrett…”

“And if you don’t stop looking at me like that – we’re gonna go check out the shocks on that new minivan,” he growled slightly, leaning forward to kiss her again as she laughed throatily, her voice echoing among the people mingling between the tables.

He stood up and pulled her with him.

“You’re kidding…” she hesitated.

The moment Barrett grasped her hand, his fingers firm yet warm against hers, Irene felt her stomach tighten. His gaze—sharp, unwavering—locked onto hers, making the world around them blur into insignificance. The conference center, the noise of people moving just beyond the walls, the responsibilities weighing on her shoulders—all of it faded in the force of his stare.

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” he retorted, his voice taut with resolve, his expression unyielding.

Her breath hitched as she swallowed silently, holding his gaze.

He released her hand abruptly, and before she could blink, he was pointing at her, then at the ground. The silent command was unmistakable: Stay here. And then he turned, striding away with purpose, straight toward Lafreniere.

Irene’s pulse pounded as she watched the exchange unfold. She couldn’t hear what was said, but the woman beside Lafreniere, the one with long brown hair and glasses, suddenly gaped at her, eyes going wide with understanding. Heat crawled up Irene’s neck in mortification— she knew. But before Irene could react, Barrett was already returning to her, his steps determined, his presence an unshakable force.

“I’m no good with kids—twenty!” Lafreniere hollered at Barrett’s retreating back.

“Twenty-five!” Barrett shot back over his shoulder.

“Ten!”

Irene blinked. Were they… bidding? A ridiculous thought, but there was no denying the exchange had an auctioneer’s rhythm. Before she could fully process, Barrett’s hand was on hers again, tugging her along.

“What was that?” she demanded, struggling to keep up with his long strides.

“Negotiating – and he’s babysitting for ten minutes,” he replied, as if that explained anything at all.

“What?” Her feet stuttered to a stop, jerking him back slightly. “We can’t do that. And they know ?” Her voice pitched higher, panic rising. “Oh my gosh, Barrett… they know?!”

His lips quirked, but he didn’t deny it. “He might have guessed…”

“She certainly did!” Irene hissed, her face burning. “We have to go back in there. I have to be able to hold my head up after this and?—”

“We’re not alone tonight,” Barrett interrupted smoothly, spinning to face her. His expression shifted, something deep and unreadable flickering in his gaze. “Salas took off ten minutes ago.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “With Jamie the media woman?”

“His wife – and yup.”

Irene’s heart pounded against her ribs. She wanted to argue, to lay out all the reasons why this was reckless and unfair and completely inappropriate, but Barrett was already moving again, pulling her into a side room with a quick, deft motion. The door clicked shut behind them.

“This doesn’t make it right ,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath as her eyes darted around. “And—where are we?”

Her pulse slowed just enough to register her surroundings: warm-toned walls, soft lighting, a comfortable-looking chair tucked into the corner, a small bench, potted plants arranged to give an air of privacy. The details clicked into place a second later.

“Is this a nursing room?” she asked, incredulous.

“It was labeled a family room,” Barrett corrected, his voice tinged with amusement. His hands found the hem of his shirt, and before she could fully react, he was tugging it over his head. “And we’re family.”

Irene inhaled sharply, torn between exasperation and a completely different kind of frustration. “You are impossible.”

“I know…” His grin was all mischief, but his eyes— his eyes —held something far deeper, something that made her knees go weak.

She took a step back, unsteady, and the backs of her legs bumped into the bench, forcing her down with an awkward plop. Before she could muster another protest, Barrett sank onto his knees before her, his hands already reaching for her feet.

He slipped off her shoes with slow, deliberate care, his fingers brushing her skin in a way that sent a shiver down her spine. And then he looked up, giving her a smile so devastatingly tender, so achingly full of love, it nearly unraveled her right then and there.

“Socks on?” he murmured, running his thumb lightly over her ankle. “I don’t want those little toes to get chilled.”

Her breath caught. “You’re serious.”

His gaze never wavered. “When it comes to you— yes .”

And just like that, the tension shifted, igniting into something far more consuming. Barrett’s hands gripped her hips, tugging her forward on the bench, his head dipping toward hers. The moment his lips met hers, the world outside ceased to exist.

His kiss was slow, savoring, unhurried yet insistent. His hands were warm, strong, anchoring her while coaxing her to let go. And she was —melting, softening, falling into him like he was the only solid thing left in the universe.

“Now?” she whispered hoarsely, her hands curling around his shoulders, clinging.

“Always,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion, with devotion, with a promise that settled deep into her bones. And after that, neither of them spoke.

They didn’t need to.