Read Fire and Ice: Rekindled (The Fire and Ice Series Book 2) Online
Authors: Kiara Delaney
Kellan
"Un-fucking-real," I muttered under my breath as I
took long strides towards my office. All I wanted to do was drag the smug
fucker from his seat and pound his face in. No, that's not exactly true. What I
really
wanted to do was grab Hailey,
shake her like a ragdoll, and ask her what the fuck she was doing hanging
around this dipshit. She may as well have slapped me in the face back there. I
was furious, and my anger was only mounting the longer I lingered at the bar.
Walking past Joe, I didn't even bother looking at him as I
gritted out, "I'm outta here. I'll be back tonight."
He was either oblivious to my harsh tone, or acting as if he
didn't notice as he said cheerily, "Ok, Boss. Take it easy."
Regardless I couldn't give a fuck right now what anybody
thought.
Check your pockets...there might
be one in there.
Nope. No fucks to give.
I barged into my office, slammed the door behind myself, and
leaned against my desk, gripping the sides as my head slumped between my
shoulders. I was breathing as if I'd just run a city block, and doing my
hardest to contain my fury. My pulse was off the Richter scale, and I feared if
I didn't get myself under control, I'd end up doing something I'd regret. Back
in the day, I wouldn't have thought twice about uncorking my pent up venom, the
monster that resides inside of me; but things are different now...complicated.
I have to lock that shit down, no matter how badly I want to unleash it right
now.
I'm doing my damnedest to create a new image of myself
around here, and flying off the handle will only tarnish what I've built up
over the last couple of months. It wouldn't surprise me if half the town had a
pool betting on when I'd finally lose my shit. I've fought too hard to earn the
respect of my customers and employees to impulsively throw it away. And nobody
would respect a loose cannon. Sure, they'd fear me, steer clear of me, and
probably end up crossing to the other side of the street if they saw me coming
in their direction. But that was the old me, the me that deluded myself into
thinking that
was
respect. I'd like
to think I've matured since then, grown up a bit, learned from my mistakes. At
least that's what I hope people see when they look at me, regardless of how I
feel internally.
I've discovered along the way that people, leaders, don't
succeed by
demanding
respect, they
succeed by
commanding
respect. So far,
I'm on the path to success, as long as I can continue to keep my shit together.
But my run-in with Hailey and The Skipper has me teetering on the brink right
now. I need to get the fuck out of here and decompress for a while.
As I take in a lungful of air, trying to shake off my
vengeful thoughts, my cell vibrates in my front pocket. Pulling it out, I see
it's Georgia, and for a moment, I consider letting it go to voicemail, but I
haven't exactly cleared the air with her since I blew up at her over calling
Hailey. I'd been avoiding the subject altogether, and I could tell she was
unsure of where we stood. She needed to hear from me that I didn't blame her,
that in the end it was my actions that set these events into motion, and I
couldn't keep putting it off. If I was going to have to eat shit, I might as
well get it over with. I'm not exactly great at admitting I've fucked up, at
least to others, and as much as Georgia can be a pain my ass, she doesn't
deserve to carry around guilt for something that wasn't her fault.
After the third ring, I answered flatly, "What?" I
wasn't very good at the whole kiss-and-make-up thing.
Georgia stated bluntly, "You said if I didn't fix
things, I was fired."
Sighing, I returned, "You're still on the schedule,
Georgia. If I was going to fire you, I'd have done it by now." I sensed
she was about to say something, but I needed to get this out so I could go
home...regroup. I beat her to the punch, continuing, "I shouldn't have
taken it out on you. This is my problem." I tensed and pinched the bridge
of my nose, as there was a slight pause. Georgia was never at a loss for words.
I wondered silently if she was smiling on the other end of the phone.
My thoughts were quickly interrupted as Georgia finally
broke the silence, saying enthusiastically, "Well that makes me feel a lot
better." I didn't reply. I didn't have to...she quickly continued,
"The good news is, I think we can still fix things."
I was a bit unnerved. I honestly just wanted this whole
situation to fade away quietly, though I had a feeling what I wanted and what I
would get were probably two different things, most likely at opposite ends of
the spectrum.
Georgia's statement did leave me a bit intrigued though.
"Who's '
we'
? " I asked,
perplexed. “I'd really like to keep this as private as possible, Georgia."
"Just keep an open mind, Kellan. I think I can help. My
girlfriend, Eve, is gonna call you."
I nearly chuckled at her blanket statement; her faux pas had
a grin spreading across my face. I never missed an opportunity to twist her
words or taunt her...she'd left herself wide open.
That's what she said.
Teasing her, I said in my most serious voice, "Look,
Georgia, I appreciate the offer, and I'm not usually one to turn down a
threesome, but I'm having a hard enough time handling one woman right
now."
"Ew, Kellan- gross! As if I'd
ever
sleep with you. Eve's a reporter for the Herald, you
pervert."
My tone turned sardonic as I replied, "What's she gonna
do? Interview me about practicing safe sex?"
I envisioned her trademark eye roll as she sighed, saying,
"Kellan, I don't have time to play verbal racquetball with you today. I'm
half an hour late for my hair coloring."
"You mean the carpet doesn't match the drapes?" I
quipped, feigning shock.
"Ok...this has been fun, but I have to go. Can you
not
be a chauvinist pig to my
girlfriend?"
"I can't make any promises."
"Kellan," she whined.
"What?" I chuckled. "Jesus. Can't anybody
take a fuckin' joke today?"
"I'm just going to pretend I know what you're referring
to. You can fill me in later," she said hurriedly.
Continuing to goad her, I said, "Look, Georgia, I
already told you I wasn’t gonna do that with you, and honestly, this is
starting to feel like sexual harassment.”
“Jesus, you’re a child,” Georgia retorted. “Hanging up now,”
she said before abruptly clicking off the line. I had to smile at our banter-
Georgia and I didn’t usually get along, and it actually felt pretty good to
finally have her in my corner.
I sighed heavily, running my hand through my hair and
scooping up my keys. I didn’t know if I was coming or going at this point.
Going- I was definitely going. I made my way to my car, slid into the front
seat and fired her up to life. The soft purr of her engine blanketed my frantic
thoughts before my stereo kicked in, the lyrics of “Inferno” by Sir Sly
invading my mind…
I think you clipped my wings to save me from the sun
Forgot my hands and knees, I had to learn a lesson
Oh fearless teacher how'd I ever lose my sight
Why'd I ever try to fight against your path?
Somewhere at half my life I wandered in the woods
Can't find a single right, I swear nothing is good
I’m blinded now and darkness shrouds my every sight
Why'd I ever try to fight for my own path?
I don't know why
I must be out of my mind
I'm just going, going, going, gone
Going, going, going on my own...
Hailey
Pick up, pick up, pick up…c’mon Georgia, pick up!
“Hailey…you’ve got two minutes before my head goes in the
sink…make it fast,” Georgia stated bluntly.
“What? Why is your head…what?” I asked, perplexed.
“I’m
trying
to get my fucking hair colored! Between you and
Lover Boy, I haven’t had a moment’s peace today,” she barked out.
“You mean Kellan? He called you?”
“Well…no, I…I called him…” she trailed off.
“Well, how was he bothering
you
if you called
him
?” I
probed.
“He just…I don’t know…” she stammered before continuing,
“Jesus Christ, Hailey- I just want to get my hair done in peace and quiet! Is
that too much to ask?”
“I talked to Michael,” I blurted, ignoring her irritability.
“Why the fuck didn’t you say so?” she asked
conspiratorially.
Giggling, I answered, “I didn’t want to interrupt your
‘peace and quiet’.”
“Oh…you got jokes? Who put sassy sauce on your pancakes
today?” she teased.
I quieted my laughter as I asked, “Do you want to hear this,
or not?”
She put her hand over the receiver as she yelled, “
Nadine!
I
gotta take five- get this thing off me ‘till I get outta the bathroom.” I heard
swishing against the receiver and Georgia sighing emphatically before she spoke
again. “Ok- shoot.”
“Well, you were right,” I acquiesced.
“I knew they were fucking!” she exclaimed. “What…you asked
him, and he just
told
you they were fucking?”
“No, Georgia,” I whined. “They weren’t…they’re not fucking,”
I huffed.
“You said I was right, and I said they were fucking, so if
they’re not fucking, then how am I right?”
“Clearly you’re not right- in the head, anyways,” I
deadpanned before continuing, “And will you stop saying
fucking
. All day, you and
Kellan, ‘Fuck this, fuck that, fuck, fuck, fucking fuck!’ You two probably drop
the F-bomb more times in a day than Eminem does. I mean can’t you find a
different word?”
She blew out an exaggerated breath, saying, “Fine. I just
want you to tell me- did Michael and Leila, or did they not…
fudge
each
other?”
******
hailey
I tried my best to quickly explain to Georgia what I had
discovered through speaking with Michael, and I was shocked to say the least.
I didn’t bother to beat around the bush with him- he’s a
psychologist, after all, and I’m sure he could spot manipulation a mile away. I
decided to be up front with him to save everyone involved a lot of time and
energy. If there was something fishy going on between Michael and Leila that
had something to do with Kellan, or me for that matter, at least he’d know I
was on to them. No point mincing words as far as I was concerned.
I had come to find out that Michael was a counselor at a
rehab facility prior to becoming a professor at the university. As such, due to
doctor/patient confidentiality legalities, the start of the information was
obtained mostly through playing ‘Blink once for yes, and twice for no’. After
taking multiple stabs in the dark, Michael decided to tell me about the story
of a patient of his, saying, “For the sake of privacy, we’ll call her
‘Beatrice’.”
I said, “Why Beatrice?”
He said, “That was my great aunt’s name.” I shrugged as he
continued, “Beatrice was involved with a man, who we shall call ‘Clifford’.”
I rolled my eyes, saying, “’Clifford’? Really?” He gave me a
chagrined smile.
“This story also involves a woman who we will call
‘Daphne’,” he said using air quotes. “Who sadly lost her husband a couple of
months back,” he went on, giving me a pointed look.
“Yeah, yeah…I get it,” I huffed. “Just get on with it.”
It turns out ‘Beatrice’ was one of Michael’s patients at the
rehab facility. Once she’d realized she was pregnant, she sought help for her
drug and alcohol addictions. I admire the fact that she put her child first.
However, being with Kellan…I mean, ‘Clifford’, and then getting kicked to the
curb by him, she soon painted a picture of herself as the victim; when in all
reality, she should have made better life choices.
Hindsight is 20/20…
Regardless, Michael had come to know ‘Beatrice’s’ portrayal
of ‘Clifford’ through her stay at the rehab facility, but took it as a grain of
salt- until he’d heard the same version from ‘Daphne’. (What am I…part of the
Scooby Gang?) Albeit the abridged version, ‘Daphne’ had talked to Michael about
her past, and that’s how he learned ‘Beatrice’ and ‘Daphne’ were discussing the
same man, ‘Clifford’, when everything happened after ‘Daphne’s’ husband passed
away. (Meaning me- I’m Daphne, Leila is Beatrice, Kellan is Clifford, and
Michael is…Michael?)
What this all boils down to, the most important aspect of
the intersecting of all of our lives, is that an innocent child came into the world.
Kellan’s
child. He can deny it all he wants, but according to Michael (if I deciphered
his name code correctly), the dates Leila provided Michael add up. She could
have lied, sure, but what would she have to gain by telling Michael lies? She’d
admitted she’d struck out in the romance department many a time- well every
time, obviously, so she could have pinned the pregnancy on any of the men that
had pushed her aside...why pick Kellan out of the blue?
How did Leila know who I was? Simple. According to Michael,
once he’d resigned from his position at the rehab facility, he offered to keep
counseling her privately at his office at the university. Leila had apparently
overheard a conversation between Michael and me one day, and it turns out she
isn’t as stupid as she acts- hence, hurriedly scurrying away anytime I would
enter Michael’s office.
So why the blatant dirty looks she threw my way at the bar,
as opposed to the demure demeanor while at Michael's office? My guess would be
she wanted Michael to see her as the victim, not for who she really is. She had
no issue with flashing her true colors out in the real world.
I asked him why hadn’t he told me sooner, and why was he
telling me now. He said he felt guilty at first, but has realized we’re friends,
first and foremost, and friends help each other out.
He said he wanted so many times to confront Kellan over the
last few months, but knew it wasn’t his place, and frankly, after the way
Kellan had treated him earlier, he wasn’t sure it was such a good idea after
all.
I said, “Well, I don’t know about this ‘Clifford’ guy, but
Kellan has a way of growing on you.”
He shrugged the comment off, and quickly tried to move the
conversation into a different topic, as if he’d not registered that he’d just thrown
a ticking time bomb in my lap.
I halted him and let him know I truly appreciated his
candor, but that I needed to get this sorted out, and fast, before anyone else
got hurt over this debacle.
When I’d explained to Georgia, cutting her ensuing questions
off before she’d had a chance to ask them (I didn’t have all day!), she’d
wanted to call Eve, pronto. I reminded her she’d better get her head in that
sink, or her hair would be clear before she got through recanting the story to
Eve. And besides, I felt it was best if I told Kellan in person.
And that’s exactly what I’m headed to do now, driving twenty
miles per hour over the speed limit to get to his house, and chewing on my
thumbnail as I try to decide the best way to broach the subject with him.
Kellan’s known to fly off the handle at the drop of a hat.
We could all end up being collateral damage if I don’t handle this correctly.