Page 61 of Melt the Ice

He looks over his shoulder at me, smiling that smile that’s deadly to my insides, before delivering the kill shot. “To show you how much we all don’t care about your past.”

Dread fills me from my head to my toes. I try and fail to dig the heels of my boots into the ground. I pull my arm, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he chuckles, making me spiral even more.

“No, Lucas!” I hiss. “They’re going to hate me. They all got that?”

“Every single one.”

I scream, literally scream like I’m being chased by a masked murderer. There’s no way, after the tiny breakthrough Hannah and I had earlier, that they’re going to be accepting of me now. They’re all so kind, and I’m, well, I was not so kind.

Strong hands grip my face, and I shake it, trying to throw off his grip. “Scarlett,” he clips.

My eyes fly wide, and it’s then that I realize I’m crying. His thumbs swipe at my cheeks, and the second my eyes focus on his face, he gives me a closed mouth smile. It’s placating, and I hate it. “No one is going to think less of you. We don’t work like that. Trust me.”

Trust him? Trust him? I’m almost certain this has ruined every single chance I have at being with this man. There’s no way that the protective bunch of people at his house is going to be okay with me after seeing that. And he didn’t even watch the whole thing. It only got worse after that.

When I first got here, I thought I could never be the version I once was, but now, looking at that video, all I feel is shame. And surprisingly, that gives me a bit of hope. Hope that tells me I’m a hell of a lot closer to being the woman I always wanted to be, one that Nana would have been proud of.

My heart races the entire way back to the ranch, my hands shoved beneath my legs to keep them from shaking. Every muscle in my neck is throbbing. I’m not going to be able to move my head if this keeps up.

“I’ll carry you in if I have to,” he whispers into the otherwise silent car.

I take a deep breath, closing my eyes for a second before I look in his direction. They’re pleading, pleading for me to trust him, pleading for me to take the step, not to retreat. And damn it, if there’s anything I want more than to hide, it’s to love the man next to me.

“Fine,” I say, pushing the door open and steeling my spine as we walk into the house.

The door clicks shut behind us, and every head turns in our direction. I brace myself for the barrage of comments coming my way, but to my surprise, Sammy claps once, the sound echoing through the room. “Thank God, now we can have pie and play Uno.”

My jaw falls open, my eyes meeting everyone in the room one by one. Not a single one of them says anything. “But…”

Abby snorts, “Is this your first rodeo?” The side of her mouth ticks up before she continues. “We don’t give a shit. Now, are we playing Uno or not?”

I’m convinced the world doesn’t want me to be happy. After a night like last night, I wake up on a high, grateful that my father’s plan to make the people here hate me epically failed. Not to mention, I realize I don’t suck at “game night,” in fact, I’m actually quite fond of it. I feel like I’m ready to take on the world, but then my phone rings in my back pocket while I’m making Lucas and I coffee.

Abby’s name flashes across the screen, and for some odd reason, I smile, “Hey,” I whisper, sure she’s calling to check up on him, but I’m sadly mistaken when the words leave her mouth.

“Scarlett,” she bites out, “I came to talk to my brothers about security this morning. Elliott caught me up on everything he's been looking into since his mom’s death... There’s so much here. You guys are more connected than I think either of you knows. Unless you’re both fantastic actors.”

My eyes roll as I place a mug under the coffee maker and press the brew button. “I hate when you talk in circles. Get to the point,” I fire back, inhaling deeply as the comforting scent fills the kitchen.

She forcefully exhales, “He has family. Elliott found a cousin who lives in Tampa. Rory Bolton. But that’s not all.”

She pauses, cursing before she continues. “His mom used to work at the ranch. I’m literally staring at a picture of her and a woman that looks oddly like you, standing in front of what’s now the stables.”

What? “How old is that picture?”

“Lucas is in it, too. He’s a baby, but he’s right here.” What the hell? I have so many questions. Did Miller know? Is he part of all this?

She keeps talking, but my phone vibrates, and when I pull it away, the text message sends blood roaring through me, blocking out every other sound.

Papi: Tick tock, do I need to push a little harder?

That colossal freaking asshole. “Abby.” I cut her off. “I need you to see if your brother can figure out how my dad ties into this. Because I know he is somehow.” I screenshot the text thread. The one with all the angry texts when I first got here, and what he sent after Lucas’s mom’s funeral, followed up by the text he just sent.

“I don’t care what comes of him, Abby.” I grit out, “You don’t hurt the people I love and get away with it.”

She gasps before growling, “Got it.”

Forgetting all about the coffee, I run to the rehab. The door slams against the wall as I push through it. Miller jumps from his spot inside one of the stalls. “Where's the fire?” he jokes, but all traces of humor slide off him when he takes in my face. “What happened?”