Chapter 17 – Cross-Chec
Blind Pass Fallout
Christmas Day
Bash
I march down the stairs. Because I don't want to make a spectacle of myself, I stop at the entryway and take a breath, trying to calm down.
Everyone is seated around the TV watching the charity hockey game.
I'd been invited to participate, but even months ago, my only thought had been to spend Christmas with Amelia.
I roll my eyes in self-disgust. What an idiot I've been, letting Jaxson get the drop on me like this.
I huff and straighten, stepping into the room to watch the game with my family.
It's a good one, with top talent from every team coming together for the cause.
It's high-action and borderline sportsmanship.
The cooperation among the players is seamless and precisely what I expected.
You wouldn't realize they're typically rivals.
I know that if I'd participated, it would've been even more exciting, because Jaxson and I despise each other, and the friction on the ice is obvious. The fans eat it up.
I sit, forcing myself to watch. The camera cuts to Jaxson, who shoulder-checks another player, taunting him.
My jaw tightens at his cockiness, just watching it onscreen, and the burn of rivalry flares.
The crowd can't get enough, cheering and hissing, some rooting for one team and some for the other.
Then the commentator's tone sharpens as the image shifts to a split screen. The blast of a popular entertainment show's opening music suddenly fills the speakers, but it barely registers because I'm so angry. That's when I realize that the game has come to a complete halt.
On one side of the broadcast, Jaxson is live on the ice, staring up at what I assume is the PuckCam.
On the other, there's grainy footage of him on a hotel balcony.
My stomach knots. The camera blurs the explicit parts, but it's clearly Kingston in a bathrobe with two nude women clinging to him, pulling at the robe.
The feed ends with a ll three slipping through the sliding glass doors into the room.
The arena explodes in boos and hisses. On the ice, Jaxson stands pale and furious, framed live on the PuckCam, a breaking-heart graphic superimposed.
The screen flashes to two women laughing in the broadcast booth—the same ones from the footage.
They blow kisses at him as female fans surge toward the booth doors, pounding and shouting. Chaos erupts.
I sit frozen, unable to take a breath.
Amelia's voice rings in my head.
He came in one morning and demanded an open marriage, or he'd divorce me.
Then the words I spat at her only moments ago slam into me.
"Don't play dumb with me. You're married… to him."
I had refused to listen. Every plea to be heard, I shoved back. I called her a liar.
"So, all this is just a coincidence, then? The wife of my nemesis, Jaxson Kingston, is spending Christmas with me? You can't make this stuff up. You're a liar, Amelia!”
My head drops into my hands. Worse, I'd accused her of plotting with him. Yet she was innocent the entire time. What had she said? I can barely remember. Rage blinded me. But she called me a good man.
My mother presses a hand to her chest. “That poor girl. Can you hear what they're shouting?”
“Your wife deserves better,” I mumble, shame crawling up my throat.
“Oh, Sebastian,” her voice breaks. “That's your friend, isn't it? Did you know?”
Yeah. Yeah. I did know. Instead of talking to Amelia like a decent person, like a good man, I tore into her.
“I've made a terrible mistake,” I mumble, grief-stricken.
The live stream from the arena shows a riot unfolding, security hustling Jaxson and the other players off the ice as they dodge a deluge of stadium food. But all I can see is Amelia's pale, shattered face in my mind, her mouth agape, her eyes shiny with tears as I order her to leave.
I drag both hands down my face as a visceral ache sears through me. I cut her open with my words, and she'd been telling the truth all along.
What have I done?
“Amelia,” I whisper as I jump from my seat and head for her room .
Rudy stops me. “She's not there.”
Panicked, I turn away from him and race back up the stairs.
“Amelia,” I shout, taking the steps two at a time.
For the second time in minutes, I slam her door open, and silence greets me.
It steals my breath. The room is meticulously clean, and the bed is stripped.
I lunge for the closet and rip the doors wide.
Empty.
I yank the dresser drawers open one after another, and they each hit the floor with a loud crash.
Empty.
Empty.
Empty.
I run to the bathroom, but the counters are… empty.
There's the faintest trace of her perfume lingering in the air, but she's gone.
“Amelia!” My voice cracks.
What did you expect? You demanded she leave.
I lean against the door, dragging a hand over my face, blinking as tears sting my eyes.
It isn't manly, but I can't escape the agony of knowing how deeply I hurt her.
We were building a bond, and I was already falling for her.
She trusted me with her broken heart, and I crushed it because I'm nothing but an insecure fool .
Cold dread grips me as I scramble for my boots, hopping awkwardly around, trying to get out the door while putting them on.
Wind lashes my face, driving the blizzard-like snowfall into my eyes, wailing as if it wants to sweep me out into it.
I hadn't realized a storm had hit while I was otherwise distracted, and the sight puts terror in my heart.
She's out in this, and it's my fault!
“Amelia!” I shout, my voice nearly lost in the howl of the wind. My pant leg catches on the doorframe as I stumble. A faint glint draws my gaze down. There, the small skate charm I gave Amelia last night hangs from a splintered piece of wood.
I crouch, staring at the broken chain, swinging in the dim light with quiet accusation. She threw it back at me, and I deserve that, all of it, after the way I treated her.
I reach for it, and it drops into my hand. Clutching it like a lifeline, I tuck it into my jeans pocket, desperate not to lose another piece of her as she slips farther from me.
Looking around, I frantically scan the white blur, searching for any trace of her. Pulling on my coat, I step off the porch into the storm as my family shouts after me, their voices drowned out by the roaring wind .
My father yells, “You'll get lost in this!” and grabs my arm, trying to pull me back.
Rudy pushes closer, voice panicked. “I saw a truck pull up for her. She got in and left.”
“I seize him by the collar. “Why didn't you tell me?”
“I didn't think you cared,” he swallows. “You were the one who went off on her, demanding she leave. So, I didn't realize you'd want me to stop her.”
I shove Rudy back, and he staggers, blinking in surprise. My chest heaves as I fight for breath in the thick, cold air.
“I have to go after her,” I roar, straining to be heard over the storm's fury. I snatch my keys from the ceramic bowl on the foyer table inside and charge toward my truck.
“You can't drive in this, Sebastian,” my father barks, barely discernible above the wind as he presses a firm hand to my chest. “The storm's just hit, and the snow is coming down too hard and fast.”
“Just come inside, call her, honey,” my mom pleads, leaning close so I can catch her words. “She hasn't been gone long and is probably ahead of the worst of it. She's okay. ”
I barely hear their words over the shrieking wind whipping the snow sideways, stinging my face. I have to admit they're right. This blizzard rolled in quickly. One minute, flakes drift softly, and the next, it's a blinding storm engulfing everything.
My dad urges me back inside, the squall battering everything around us. Once in the cabin, it feels too warm after the biting cold. I can't stop pacing, my fingers gripping the necklace in my pocket.
Pausing to stare at the TV, which now blasts an old Christmas rerun, I'm lost in my thoughts until the movie is interrupted by a weather bulletin. A red banner scrolls across the bottom: Severe Weather Alert.
The anchor's demeanor is calm, yet urgent.
“A powerful winter system is bearing down on the region tonight. This storm has the potential to be dangerous. Blizzard conditions are already developing in the mountains north of Thunder Bay. Radar indicates this slow-moving storm is tracking toward the metro area and is expected to arrive overnight. Officials have already declared a state of emergency as a precaution due to expected significant accumulations, which could create hazardous travel and possible widespread power outages across the viewing area. Authorities are urging residents to stay home and travel only in extreme emerge ncies. The airport has announced closures in anticipation of the weather, and all flights are currently grounded. Highways are likely to shut down as the evening progresses, and cleanup may take several days. Officials are urging everyone to stay vigilant.”
For the second time today, the room falls deadly silent as we all watch, exchanging worried glances. I know what everyone is thinking because my mind is racing, too. Amelia is out there in this.
The others murmur among themselves, their low buzz of conversation focused on firewood, food, power, and how long we might be stranded here.
I check my phone. No service Just perfect.
I move to the window, pressing my forehead against the cold glass, and stare into the relentless onslaught.
Snow lashes sideways, a blinding wall that devours the porch and everything beyond it.
The wind yowls like a living thing, rattling the eaves and thrashing the trees. Each gust makes the cabin shudder.
For a moment, I close my eyes, willing it all away. There’s no escaping it. No hiding from the consequences of my choices. The thought of her out there in this storm fills me with panic .
All I can do is hope she makes it home safely. But hope does nothing to ease my mind. In my misguided anger, I sent her into this. I’m the one responsible.
I press my fingers to the frosted glass, whispering her name, "Amelia," longing to pull her from the raging storm into the safety of my arms.
But I'm powerless to change the course of our future in this moment… maybe never, if I've broken us beyond repair.