Page 14 of Ice Cold, Red Hot (Coldwater Firehawks Hockey #1)

CELESTE

I spent that day going through the motions—something I really couldn’t afford. Everything in my life rested on my focus. My success.

But the conversation I’d overheard with Shepherd’s parents was eating away at me. How could anyone treat their child that way? No wonder Shepherd was strung so tight—he was under pressure too.

Maybe we couldn’t be together. And that was hard to accept, given the impossible connection I felt to him, the draw to him every time we were close. Chemistry, I guessed it was. But Shepherd didn’t need me that way as much as he needed something else. A real friend.

I knocked on his apartment door when I got back from class, my mind switching rapidly back and forth between courses of action. I swallowed down my indecision, though. Shepherd needed someone to understand. I might not be anything else for him, but I could be human.

The apartment door swung open, and Shepherd stood there, his biceps bulging where he held the door, the rest of him poured into a pair of gray sweatpants and a thin white tank top that showed more skin than it covered.

I cleared my throat, suddenly wishing I hadn’t come. My mouth was like Death Valley, and swallowing wasn’t helping. Damn, he looked good.

“Celeste,” Shepherd said. There was no emotion in the word at all.

“I heard what your father said today.”

Shepherd moved away from the door and I followed him inside. He sat on the couch, and I sank down next to him, perching on the edge and turning to face him.

“Shouldn’t eavesdrop. It’s rude.”

“You know he’s wrong, right?” I wanted to reach for his hand, but touching him would be the wrong move. It would start a cascade of events I wouldn’t be able to stop. I held my hands in my lap.

“Which part?” he asked, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

“The part where you don’t get to make your own choices in life.”

Shepherd let out a laugh that held more ice than humor. “Right.”

“I’m serious. The way they spoke to you, like you’re just a commodity, a?—”

“You don’t get it, okay?” He practically spit the words, and was on his feet as he said it. “This isn’t a choice for me. It’s a path, one I’m not controlling. It’s the path they put me on when I was a kid, and my job is to stay in line.”

I watched him for a moment, seeing the pain etched into every line of his face.

“I know what it’s like to have people counting on you,” I said.

When he didn’t speak, I went on. “I already told you I’m paying my way through school on my own, and helping support my family at the same time.

They need me to succeed. If I fail, I’m not failing myself. I’m failing them too.”

Something shifted in Shepherd’s expression and it became softer, less guarded. He moved back to the couch and sat down, dropping his head between his hands. He still didn’t speak.

“They shouldn’t talk to you that way. You’re their son.”

“I’m the lesser son,” he said softly. “Still an unproven asset. Haven’t reassured them of my worth yet.”

I shook my head. “Families shouldn’t work like that.”

He turned his head and looked at me, a tiny chuckle escaping him. “You’re an idealist, I guess. This is reality.”

“It’s shitty.”

“Changes nothing.”

For a long beat, we just sat there, side by side, something dark and and sad resting on the couch between us. Eventually, it was clear there was nothing else I could do. I stood.

“Shepherd, I get it. That’s all I came here to say. I can’t afford distractions either. And if you need one, a friend—I’m here.”

Shepherd looked up at me then, so much raw emotion in his dark eyes that I was sure he was going to say something real, something true. Instead, his gaze shuttered, and he looked away. “Great. Thanks so much.” His sarcastic tone was back, like nothing I’d said had gotten through.

“Seriously?”

“Look, if you get it, then you get why this has to stop. Why we can’t be friends.” He stood and opened the front door .

“Because I’m just a distraction.” I stared at him, but he didn’t respond. Just looked over my head and clenched his jaw so hard I was sure his teeth were cracking. “Got it.”

I walked across the hall, unlocked my door, and slammed it shut.

“Well, good evening to you too!” Nat called from the kitchen table.

“Sorry,” I said, moving to sit across from her. “Long day.”

She wiggled her eyebrows. “Long night too, I’m guessing.”

Did she know? “What do you mean?”

Natalie laughed. “Oh, come on, CeeCee. You guys weren’t quiet. I live here, remember?”

Served her right for all the times I’d had to listen to her and Evan, I guessed. “Sorry.”

She grinned. “I’m just glad you’re finally getting things all… worked out.” The grin dropped. “It was Ren, right?”

“Unfortunately,” I confirmed.

“Why unfortunately?”

I let out the sigh I’d been holding in, doing my best to blow out all the disappointment and hurt I felt where Shepherd was concerned. “It’s just… it’s never going to work. I’m his TA, for one thing. And he’s a complete jerk, for another.”

Nat just stared at me, waiting for more. When I said nothing, she asked, “so last night was…?”

“It was nothing.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“To him, anyway. And to me too, if I’m smart. ”

She sat back in her chair, sharp eyes watching me. “You’re smart,” she said.

“Not that smart.”

For the rest of the week, I saw Shepherd once. In section.

It was the most uncomfortable hour of my life as I guided the group through discussion of this week’s lecture.

I did my best to talk around the gloomy, glowering man in the chair farthest from where I stood, but I was pretty sure everyone in the room was picking up on whatever the weird tension between us was.

Shepherd left without saying a word when I dismissed the class, and I sank into a chair, feeling like I’d just run a marathon.

This could not go on.

Thursday afternoon Nat tried to get me to go to the hockey game with her, but it was literally the last place I needed to be. Seeing all that ferocity channeled into his fists again? No thanks.

Instead, I kept my head over my desk in my office, going through assignments and grading papers.

When a rap sounded on the door, I jumped.

“Hey, sorry to startle you.” Ethan. I’d been avoiding him all week, sending back one line texts that I hoped weren’t rude. I didn’t know what to say to him.

“No, uh… It’s fine. Hi.”

“Hi,” he said moving toward me and bending down to kiss my cheek before taking the chair at the side of my desk. “Got a minute? I’ve been meaning to talk to you, but you’ve been hard to pin down this week. ”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve just been really busy.”

“No worries.” Ethan gave me his easy smile and I thought about what Shepherd had said. This guy really was an open book. Stable, smart. Why couldn’t I summon an ounce of desire for him?

“So what’s up?” I asked.

“I have an opportunity for you.”

I braced myself, uncertain whether this was going to an opportunity relating to our relationship—if you could call it that—or to our work in the psychology department.

“Okay,” I said, attempting to sound noncommittal.

“A research assistant position just opened up,” he said. “One of my master’s students accepted a fellowship and is stepping away from the lab next month.”

I sat up a little straighter. “Oh.”

“It’s paid,” he added. “Funded by the grant, of course. Flexible hours. And honestly? I’d like someone sharp to step in—someone I can trust. You’ve already proven you’re capable. I think you’d be a good fit.”

I blinked at him, surprised. “You want me?”

His smile deepened. “I do. I actually emailed you the offer a few minutes ago.”

My heart thudded, and not in a good way. Not in the Shepherd way.

“You’ve got a great academic profile. And your background in cognitive psych would be a real asset in the bias and attention study we’re launching.

” He paused, watching me. “It’s the kind of role that opens doors.

If you’re thinking long-term—doctoral programs, publishing, networking—this is the kind of experience that’ll move you ahead of the pack. ”

I felt the compliment settle uncomfortably in my chest.

“What about my TA assignment?” I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral.

“You could technically keep it, but I’d recommend switching over fully,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

“You’d be working directly under me, and I’d rather you have the bandwidth to focus on the lab.

Fewer hours grading, more hours doing actual research.

We’d make sure your funding carries over. Might even be a bump.”

Of course.

It made sense. Rational, practical, strategic.

And if it meant stepping away from the class I was TA’ing—from him—then maybe that was the responsible thing to do.

I looked down at the stack of papers on my desk, none of them blurring into anything meaningful anymore.

This was why I was here. For opportunities like this. For advancement, for progress, for a future that didn’t depend on anyone else.

I needed to say yes.

So why was I struggling? Was it because if I said yes, it would remove the most obvious reason for me to avoid Shepherd? For me to want him?

“I’ll think about it,” I said, finally looking up.

Ethan nodded. “Take your time. Look over the offer. Just let me know before midterms.”

He rose smoothly, and before leaving, dropped a light touch to my shoulder. “I’m glad we’re getting to know each other. In and out of work.”

I stared at Ethan for a long beat, realizing everything was a bit too intertwined. It felt…unprofessional. “Ethan? ”

He turned away from the door he’d just pulled open. “Yeah?”

“If we…If I say yes, then I think we’d have to agree that whatever is between us has to be strictly professional.”

Something cool settled in Ethan’s gaze, but his smile didn’t falter. “Of course. Yeah, of course.”

He gave me a wave and disappeared, and I stared at the closed door long after Ethan left, my mind spinning.

This was what I came here for.

To make smart decisions.

To build something for myself.

To stop depending on anyone else to hold the door open.

And yet, the first image that flashed through my mind when Ethan made the offer wasn’t a conference room or a line on my CV—it was Shepherd. Sitting in the back row of discussion, jaw tight, eyes stormy, refusing to look at me.

This could solve everything.

I wouldn’t be his TA anymore.

No more awkward silences. No more trying to keep things professional when every cell in my body remembered how he tasted, how he felt, how he made me come undone.

I could want him now.

I could have him, if he still wanted me.

But he didn’t.

Not really.

He’d made that painfully clear.

And if I stayed in the class? If I forced the issue, crossed lines, jeopardized everything I’d worked for …

What would I be holding onto? A man who couldn’t even speak to me after touching me like that?

“This is a good thing, Celeste,” Ethan had said. “You should be happy.”

And I’d smiled. Lied. “I am.”

But I wasn’t. Not exactly.

Still, I picked up my phone, thumb hovering over my messages before I opened the email app instead.

I pulled up Ethan’s offer, heart pounding in a slow, heavy rhythm that echoed in my chest. I didn’t need to wait. I already knew the right thing to do.

I typed two words. I’m in . And hit send.

The second it was gone, I felt the shift—clean and sudden. Like a door slamming shut.

I’d made my choice.