Page 135 of Hot As Ice

I grin sheepishly, heat rising in my cheeks. “I’m gonna go get the pasta.”

“You do that.” His laughter follows me into the pantry. I settle on the angel hair pasta after a moment’s deliberation. It’s Hunter’s favorite.

“What, no farfalle?” he jokes when I return to the kitchen.

“I know you hate it.”

“Pasta shouldn’t be shaped like butterflies,” he says solemnly.

“You are ridiculous. The shape of pasta is what makes it fun.”

“Now who’s being ridiculous?”

I stick my tongue out at him. “Killjoy.”

Hunter laughs as he puts a pot of water on the stove to boil. “Oh, alright, go bring your butterfly pasta.”

I hug him from behind as he salts the water. “It’s⁠—”

A knock on the door stops me short. I frown. “Are you expecting someone?” I ask Hunter.

“No.” Stepping away from the stove, he takes his phone from his pocket and checks the security camera. “It’s my dad,” he says.

“Oh.”

“Fuck.”

“Are you gonna let him in?”

“Yeah,” he says, sounding resigned. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Hunter…”

Before I can stop him, he’s striding to the front door and opening it. His father barrels in, his energy aggressive and heated. I’m immediately on guard. Hunter puts his body between his father and me.

“You little shit!” his father spits. “You think you can go behind my back to my own father?”

“He’s my grandfather,” Hunter returns calmly.

“You had no right!” his father says, stabbing a finger into the air. “Stay out of my fucking business. You don’t know anything. And you,” he adds, looking past Hunter at me, “stay the fuck away from my wife.”

“Stevie didn’t do anything,” Hunter says, moving his body to block me from his father’s view. “You’re the one who’s beating your wife. You broke her arm. What’s next, gonna push her down the stairs too?”

His face reddening, Hunter’s dad advances on him. “You piece of shit. I’ll kill you like I killed your mother.” He grabs Hunter by the throat. Hunter tries to push him off, and they scuffle. I skitter out of their way. My heart is pounding out of my chest, my mind spinning.

Hunter and his dad grapple, but now his father has both hands around Hunter’s throat. They fall to the ground, and I scream. Hunter twists his body, trying to get away, but his father’s hands only tighten around his throat, turning his face red. He can’t breathe. For a second I am frozen with fear and indecision. Then I grab the bottle of wine I was using to make marinara sauce and slam it on Hunter’s dad’s head.

forty-five

hunter

MY FATHER IS unconscious on the floor of my living room.

Stevie stands over him, both hands pressed to her mouth. The bottle of wine she clocked him with is shattered, and white wine is all over the floor, my father’s prone form, and me.

I lick my lips, tasting alcohol for the first time in my life.

I hate it.