Shredding Ice

chapter thirteen

Harding saw the car before he was even outside. It was one of just three in the lot. He stalled just inside the building.

Sylas and Vonte were in the front seats, neither talking. Sylas was on his phone, and Vonte leaned against the passenger door occasionally picking at her nails.

He was tempted to wait and see if they would start talking. Or maybe fighting. Anything, really. But after just a couple minutes he felt disappointment settling in his chest, so he pushed the rink doors open instead.

Vonte was the first to notice him. She sat up in her seat straight away. Her big brown eyes were framed by thick glasses as red as her painted lips. Pin straight black hair made her pale skin seem purely white, but he knew if he got closer he would see pink blush dusted over sharp cheekbones.

Harding gave a tight lipped smile as he crossed the lot and then slipped into the backseat without complaint. He crossed his arms and slumped in the seat, looking like a total child throwing a tantrum. His partners turned in their seats right away.

"Hey, Love," Vonte said. Her voice was soft and had the smallest tint of a rasp. "It's good to see you. You were amazing in your game."

"You did great," Sylas agreed. "And I'm—we're—sorry. For messing up your day."

He was careful to only shrug his good shoulder as his lips scrunched into a small frown. Only words of reassurance danced on his tongue, so he didn't say anything. They were all lies; he wasn't okay with how they had acted and both of them knew it.

It was supposed to be a good day. They were supposed to all see each other and remember how much they cared for one another and forget about all of the fighting. Even if the next day they had to face their problems, that day was supposed to be spent in blissful ignorance.

Vonte rested her hand on Harding's knee. "Hey. No more fighting tonight, okay? We promise."

Harding flicked his eyes over to Sylas, who nodded in agreement. He didn't know if he believed either of them though. His game wasn't that long and they had already dissolved into anger.

"For real, Champ. No fighting, not even a disagreement on what to watch tonight."

"You can choose," Vonte quickly added.

He didn't move much, still looking between the both of them. They seemed genuinely sorry. Eventually, he settled his gaze on Sylas. "I'm picking a romance show. A reality one with stupid drama. And you can't complain."

Sylas smirked and rolled his eyes. "You sure you don't want your frozen train?"

"The train isn't frozen. That's the whole point. And yes, I'm sure." He didn't uncross his arms, but he did sit up straighter in his seat.

Vonte grinned and leaned over the console, beckoning Harding closer for a kiss. He met her lips easily and relaxed into their easy rhythm.

When she pulled away, Sylas didn't hesitate to replace her lips. Their kiss wasn't as long because they had seen each other only a few days before. But it was just as sweet and passionate.

Vonte got out of the car and switched to the backseat. She slid over to the middle seat, missing Harding's physical touch.

"Am I your chauffeur now?" Sylas asked. He took the parking brake off and changed gears though.

"Yes," Vonte claimed. She buckled up and gently held his bicep. "Me and my hubby are looking for five star tre—"

"Ah."

The moment Vonte's head hit his shoulder as a manicured hand slid down his forearm looking for his own, Harding had roughly jerked back toward the car door. He lightly gripped his shoulder with his good hand, wanting to squeeze it because of the pain but knowing it would only make it worse.