Page 65 of Ice Queen

* You promised me a forever, Millie.

* I told you, Markus.

* The stars, Markus

* It’s your time.

CHAPTER 22

Kaitlyn

The first thing I saw when I got on social media this morning was an article about the woman at Markus’ house last night. “Tampa Bay Hawks center Markus Samuels accused of skipping out on child support.” It read. I didn’t see any cameras, nor did the woman cause any trouble other than yelling through the door that he owed her child support.

Which, now that I think about it, is weird because if she knew Markus, then she’d know he wasn’t here. That he was out of town, working, making the money to pay said child support. As soon as Dex showed up, she left without an argument. Almost as if it were solidly for show.

The thought left a sour taste in my mouth, and I quickly swiped away from it. I can’t imagine how he feels seeing and living through all this stuff.

Ironically, he did a post-game interview last night that was also splayed all over the internet this morning. I didn’t watch the actual interview, but he looked absolutely delicious in the pictures. He was dressed in a Hawks T-shirt, wet hair hanging in his face. The way his jaw was set gave way to just how frustrated he was. His eyes were a stormy gray, narrowed and intense in every picture.

Now the media is trying to paint it as him saying everything that’s been said recently isn’t true as a way to discredit the woman who is supposedly owed child support. The poor guy can’t win. That, mixed with the fact that I’m still a little worried about his coach being borderline abusive, and all I want to do is hug him.

I sent him a text letting him know I was going into the bookstore today and that I’m bringing Maggie with me, but he didn’t respond. I try not to read into it too much, or let my mind wonder if our FaceTime call last night was indeed too much like my brain tried to tell me it was.

I stop by Beautiful Pour and grab a coffee and a pup cup for Maggie, because while yes, the man does have one of those fancy coffee makers, I don’t know how to use it, and I’m too scared to try. The last thing I need is to break something and then feel like I have to fix it. It probably costs more than my rent.

There’s an uneasy feeling in me as I unlock the door. I haven’t been here since the window was broken; having Markus here quieted all my fears over it. But now, even though I’ve watched the security cameras multiple times over the past few days, I still feel like something is going to jump out and grab me at any second.

A shiver rolls through me as I pull the door open. Maggie darts inside and does a round of sniffing before she settles next to the register. The guys are coming to fix the window today, and Scarlett said either her or Abby would come hang out with me while they did. I like having them around, and now that Scarlett knows of my past, it doesn’t feel so much like I'm performing. I can just be me, even if that feels a bit scary.

It doesn’t take long for me to go through the aisles to dust and straighten things out. I then go through the online orders we had while I wasn’t here and pull those. There’s an email sitting in my inbox from Camille, Alexandria James’s PA, and I debate on opening it now or later when I’m more awake. But then there’s a knock on the door, and Abby, her husband Tate, along with Scarlett and Cam, stand on the other side.

Maggie rushes to them, nudging at the glass with her nose. It leaves an adorable condensation mark, and I suddenly wonder if that would make a good tattoo. “Hey guys,” I laugh when I see Tate’s arms are full of stuff.

“We brought breakfast,” Abby says as she skips inside. “Hope you’re hungry.”

“I am, thanks.” My eyes meet my coffee, and I realize they don’t have any. “Do you want me to order coffee? I’m sure Maria would run it over if she knew you were all here.”

Scarlett shakes her phone. “Already on it.”

Tate carries the bags to the back, and the smell of bacon permeates the air, my mouth watering instinctively. “What’d you bring?” I ask as I drop myself into a bean bag.

“Breakfast burritos,” Tate grumbles.

Abby smiles up at him before turning to me. “Don’t let the grump fool you, he offered to make these himself.”

Scarlett's head snaps in Tate’s direction, her mouth falling open. “Well, I’ll be damned. Tatum Wilder, are you getting soft?”

Our laughter fills the room, Tate’s head shakes softly, eyes moving over the three of us, but the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth says he is, in fact, “getting soft.”

“Here, hold your nephew.” My hands reach up to grab Cam, the term nephew burrowing somewhere deep in my heart. Somewhere that tells me this may be the permanent place I’ve been searching for.

I boop his nose with my finger, and he babbles, reaching out to grab it. “Thanks for being my date last night, Little Man.”

“Speaking of, did they win their game?” I ask as Tate puts a burrito on a plate and hands it to me.

Abby gasps. “You didn’t watch?”

I let out a groan as the perfectly crunchy bacon mixed with perfectly seasoned eggs hits my tongue. My head shakes, and before I can respond, Scarlett jumps in. “She passed out with Cam. Apparently, she can’t hold her liquor.”