Page 136 of Hot As Ice

Jesus Christ. Did that really just happen?

I only allow myself a second of disbelief and shock before I push myself off the floor and go to Stevie. My sweater is soaked with wine. She throws herself against my chest. “Oh my god,” she breathes.

“It’s okay,” I say, even as my heart races a mile a minute. “You’re okay.”

“Me? What about you? Oh my god, I thought he was going to kill you.”

I stroke her hair. I thought the same thing. I don’t want to say my life flashed before my eyes, but for a moment there, as my father tightened his grip on my throat, I thought about everything I had to lose.

“Hunter.”

“What, baby?”

“I love you.”

I tighten my arms around her. “I love you so fucking much. You have no idea.”

“Promise me I’ll never lose you.”

“Only if you promise me the same thing.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

I take her face in my hands and kiss her softly on the mouth. My heart expands with all the love I feel for her. I’ll never have my mom back, and my father was never a father to me, but the love I feel for Stevie has reached inside me and filled in all the empty spaces. I feel solid when I’m with her.

A pounding on the front door breaks us apart.

“Hunter! It’s me! Open the door!” comes my grandfather’s voice.

Surprised, I walk slowly to the door, gripping Stevie’s hand tight. I open the door to find my grandfather and my uncle staring at me with concern.

“Is Ben here?” my grandfather asks.

“Yeah.”

His eyes widen in alarm.

“He’s unconscious on the floor,” I say, stepping aside and pointing towards the living room. My grandfather and uncle walk inside.

“My god,” my grandfather says when he sees his eldest son on the floor surrounded by puddles of wine and shards of glass. “What happened?”

“He was choking me. Stevie hit him on the head with a bottle of wine.”

My grandfather turns to Stevie, but I push her behind me. I’m not letting anyone touch her. But Grandad surprises me.

“Good job, young lady,” he tells her.

Stevie’s grip on my hand tightens.

“He had that one coming for a long time,” my uncle puts in. He crosses his arms over his chest and stares down at his brother.

Taking a deep breath, my grandfather exhales and says, “I’ll take care of this. I should’ve done it years ago.”

“Better late than never,” I say, and a look passes between us. My grandfather nods, then takes his phone out of his pocket and dials a number.

“Robert,” he says into the phone. “I need a favor.”