Secrets on Ice (Manhattan Mavericks #5)

EMBER

“Trevor left his phone at home.” Cassidy holds it up from the passenger seat. “It was wedged between the couch cushions. I found it when I was grabbing my gym bag.”

“Do you want to drop it off to him on the way?” I ask, turning left out of our street.

“Yeah. He said he was heading to the Maple Street house before he left this morning. It’s on our way to the gym. I’ll be five minutes max.”

“Okay, but if we miss our class because of this, you owe me a coffee,” I tease.

“If we miss the class, the instructor is going to make us do twenty extra squats, and I’m already sore from leg day.” Cassidy moans.

“You should’ve stretched more. I told you. You spent five minutes lying on the floor complaining.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Cassidy says, rolling her eyes at me.

I laugh as I turn onto the main road.

Cassidy has been my best friend for as long as I can remember.

Our brothers introduced us when they played on the same junior hockey team.

Neither of us knew another girl with a twin brother, so we bonded over how irritating they were and have been joined at the hip ever since.

She’s my ride-or-die, and I’m hers. People would call us codependent, and they would be right.

We live on the same street, both became interior designers, married best friends, and started a business with them.

My husband, Kevin, is a real estate agent.

He finds properties and sells them. Cassidy’s husband, Trevor, is the contractor.

He looks after the trades we use to flip the homes, while Cassidy and I design them.

It works, and we love what we do. Kevin and I have been together since high school.

Trevor was his best friend, and I introduced Trevor to Cassidy.

At the time, we thought it was perfect, two best friends marrying two best friends.

We pull onto Maple Street, and I slow outside our latest flip. The house is nearly finished. Fresh paint, new kitchen, refinished floors, the works, but Trevor’s truck isn’t here.

“Doesn’t look like he’s here,” I tell her.

Cassidy frowns. “He told me Maple Street.”

“Maybe he went to grab materials or realized he forgot his phone and headed home.”

“Maybe, let me check his location.” She taps away on his screen before turning it toward me, her brows pulled together. “He’s at Magnolia Avenue.”

“Why would he be there?” I ask her.

“Exactly, we’ve only settled on that one. We’re not ready to start work yet.”

I shrug. “Maybe he’s checking something.”

Cassidy rolls her eyes. “Can you see where Kevin is? If he’s close, I’ll give the phone to him, and we can get the hell out of here.”

I pull my phone from the cup holder and check Kevin’s location. “He’s at Magnolia too.”

“Weird?”

I start the car again and pull out into the street. “Maybe something came up.”

Cassidy huffs. “Great, we’re definitely missing class.” She throws her head back against the seat. “Let’s drop the phone off and try to catch the next session.”

“Sounds like a plan. I can grab a coffee before.”

I take the turn toward Magnolia Avenue, and we don’t stop talking for the entire twenty minutes.

Both trucks are parked out front when we arrive. Cassidy grabs Trevor’s phone, and I take my water bottle from the console. We climb the porch steps still arguing about whether deadlifts are actually the devil.

The front door is unlocked, so we walk straight inside, still talking.

Then I freeze.

My brain flat-out refuses to process what I’m seeing.

Two bare bodies tangled together on a blanket spread across the wooden floor. For one confused second, they’re just bodies.

Skin.

Arms.

Legs.

Then I see the tattoo on Kevin’s left shoulder blade. The one I’ve traced with my fingers a thousand times. Trevor’s hand grips the back of his neck as a low, unmistakable sound echoes through the empty house. They’re completely lost in each other and don’t hear us.

No.

Nope.

This isn’t real.

My brain can’t reconcile what I’m seeing with anything I know.

Cassidy makes a sound I’ve never heard from her before.

Something guttural and broken, like it’s been ripped from the middle of her chest. My water bottle shifts in my numb fingers and clatters to the floor.

The bang breaks the frozen horror looping through my head.

Kevin looks up first.

His eyes meet mine. Horror flashes across his face.

“Fuck.”

He shoves Trevor away so hard that he sprawls sideways, exposing both of them even more. They scramble for their clothes, frantic and clumsy, with pants tangled around their ankles and shirts spread across the floor.

“Em.” Kevin’s voice cracks. “Fuck.”

“It’s not what it looks like,” Trevor blurts, yanking his shirt over his head. His face is bright red, his voice high with panic. “Cass, baby, please.”

Cassidy takes one shaky step backward. Trevor’s phone slips from her fingers and clatters onto the hardwood, the screen cracks on impact.

I still haven’t moved. It’s like my feet are bolted to the floor.

Kevin drags on his pants and stands, leaving them undone. He holds his hands out toward me like I’m a frightened animal he needs to calm.

“Em, please. Let me explain. It’s not …”

Those hands. Those familiar hands that have touched me a thousand times. Touched my body. That have worn a wedding ring I put there. Now they’ve been all over Trevor. Something inside my chest snaps.

“Don’t,” I warn him, my voice coming out low and flat, sounding nothing like me.

Kevin stops. “Ember …”

“Don’t,” I warn him again. Turning, I grab Cassidy by the wrist and pull her with me.

She stumbles but comes willingly. I don’t run, but I walk with pace.

I don’t say another word as I walk out the front door, down the porch steps, and toward the car while both our husbands chase after us, calling our names and trying to convince us we didn’t see exactly what we saw.

My husband is gay.

The thought slams into me as I slide behind the wheel.

Cassidy climbs in beside me and slams the door.

In my peripheral vision, Kevin and Trevor run down the path half-dressed.

Neither of us speaks as there’s nothing to say right now.

I reverse out of the driveway, ignoring their frantic waving and shouting.

I drive to the end of Magnolia Avenue and turn left. We pass the gym where we should be right now. Then the coffee shop where Cassidy and I go every Friday after class. I drive like I know where I’m going. I don’t. My mind has gone completely blank.

Your husband is gay. The thought hits again. Your husband is gay, and you had no clue.

Cassidy stares straight ahead. Her jaw is clenched so tightly I can see the muscle in her cheek ticking. She hasn’t blinked. It’s as if she’s carved from stone and if she moves even one inch, the whole thing will crack, and she’ll never be able to put herself back together.

“Have they always been gay?” she asks quietly.

“I don’t know.”

“How?” She shakes her head. “Has this been going on our entire marriage?” My hands tighten around the steering wheel as I don’t have any answers to her questions. “Were we blind?” she continues. “All the early mornings. The late nights. They’re always together.”

“We’re always together, and we’re not having an affair,” I snap, sharper than I mean to.

“True,” she answers meekly.

Silence falls between us.

“I can’t go home,” she says.

“Me either.”

“I can’t look at him without seeing …” She doesn’t finish, she doesn’t need to.

Every time I try to form a coherent thought, Kevin’s face flashes through my mind. The looks of shock and horror, but not guilt or regret, just panic because he’d been caught.

“New York,” I blurt out.

Cassidy turns to me. “What about New York?”

“I can’t stay here.”

“I know.”

“I need to think. Process. Work out a plan.”

“And you think you can do that in New York?”

“With our brothers? Yes.”

Understanding crosses her face. “Yes.” She nods. “Get me the hell out of here.”

And so, I do.

The airport is forty minutes away. I head toward it while Cassidy searches flights on her phone. She finds two seats and books them one way. We have no idea when we are coming home, it’s not something I care about in this moment. Home, what home? It doesn’t exist anymore.

When we arrive, I leave the car in long-term parking. We grab our gym bags from the back seat and walk into the airport. All we have with us is a spare change of clothes, water bottles, and sneakers.

My phone buzzes.

Kevin: Please come home. Let me explain.

Another message arrives.

Kevin: It’s not what you think. Please, Em.

What do I think, Kevin? I think I walked into a house and found you with your hands on another man. But not just any man, your best friend and my best friend’s husband.

I hold down the button and turn my phone off. Cassidy’s buzzes seconds later, her eyes widening as she reads whatever Trevor sent. Then she powers hers down and stares at the black screen.

“Fuck them.”

“One hundred percent.” I nod in agreement.

“The audacity to try and gaslight us after we saw it with our own eyes.” She tsks.

We move through security in silence. I buy us well-deserved coffees, and we head to our gate.

All around us, people are going about their normal lives.

People laugh, babies cry, someone runs past us trying to catch a flight at the last minute.

The world keeps moving while ours has completely blown apart.

We sit staring at nothing until they call our flight.

Thank God for miles, Cassidy upgraded us to first class.

We deserve it.

She takes the window, and I take the aisle.

A flight attendant comes around offering champagne before take-off.

Cassidy and I look at each other, and for the first time all day, we smile.

Keep them coming, lady, we’re going to need them.

We each take a glass and clink them together.

The absurdity of it hits us both at once.

Cassidy starts laughing, and I join her.

The laughter builds until we’re both losing our minds.

Cassidy snorts, which makes me laugh even harder.

We haven’t even had a sip yet. The flight attendant takes one look at us and returns with a second glass each without asking.

God bless that woman. The champagne dulls the scene looping through my head.

“Champagne feels wrong,” Cassidy says, staring at her glass. “Like we’re celebrating something.”

“We are,” I tell her.

“What?”

“The worst day of our lives.”

“Facts.” She clinks her glass against mine again.

Somewhere over Pennsylvania, the buzz fades, and the quiet creeps back in. Cassidy leans against the window with her eyes closed, but she isn’t sleeping. Her jaw is still locked, and one hand is curled into a fist on the armrest.

Was our marriage real?

Ten years.

Was Kevin thinking about Trevor when he was in bed with me?

Did he ever love me?

Was I his beard?

“Stop thinking,” Cassidy says without opening her eyes.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I know, but I can hear the wheels turning in your head.”

She’s right. “What are we going to tell people?”

Her eyes open and she turns to look at me.

“The truth.”

“Cass …”

She shakes her head. “We have nothing to hide. We didn’t do anything wrong.”

She’s right. “Emmett is going to kill Kevin.”

“Sully is going to murder Trevor.” Cassidy finishes her champagne in one go. “They deserve whatever’s coming.”

I don’t argue.

JFK is chaos, but thankfully we only have hand luggage, so we move through quickly.

Cassidy grabs a cab and gives the driver Emmett’s address.

We ride in silence. This is about to become real the moment we tell our brothers.

The city blurs past the window, too bright, too loud, and too normal for what today is.

Hours ago, Cassidy and I were arguing about the gym.

I was married, and I thought I knew exactly what my life looked like. Now I have no idea.

The cab pulls up outside my brother’s building.

The doorman welcomes us and helps us with our gym bags.

Cassidy and I are both on my brother’s approved visitor list, so we’re waved through without any questions.

Thank goodness, I don’t think I could explain why two women have flown across the country carrying nothing but gym bags and trauma.

The elevator carries us up. When the doors open onto my brother’s floor, Cassidy and I step out together. Neither of us speaks as we walk toward his apartment. My heart pounds harder with every step.

The shock.

The anger.

The humiliation.

The second I tell Emmett, it becomes real.

I knock, and Cassidy stands beside me, silent.

I hope he’s home because otherwise this is going to be incredibly awkward.

The door opens, and Emmett appears. His eyes widen as he looks between us, taking in the gym clothes and whatever expression is currently on my face.

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

Then I’m moving as I rush into his arms and hold on as everything I’ve spent the day keeping locked down finally begins to break apart. “Emmett.” I barely get his name out. “We didn’t know where else to go.”