His Dangerous Love On Ice (Olivia and Zane) novel Chapter 136

Olive’s POV

I remembered my first date.

I was thirteen years old, and my mother had orchestrated the entire thing without asking me if I even wanted to go.

It was during the period she was trying to process her divorce from Walter. The papers had been signed weeks earlier, the house divided, custody arrangements finalized in cold legal language that made my family sound like a business transaction being dissolved

But while they’d moved on-or at least pretended to-1 was still rowning in it.

I’d locked myself in my bedroom for weeks. Refused to go back regular school and insisted on homeschooling instead. Stopped seeing friends. Stopped doing anything that required me to interact with the outside world.

I genuinely wanted everything to just end.

The divorce had hit me harder than it had hit either of my parents, and my mother thought the only way to pull me out of that darkness was to force me into some kind of connection. Make me feel something for someone. Create a distraction from the wreckage of our family.

She hadn’t called it a date, though. She’d been smarter than that

She’d called it a “social opportunity.” A “chance to meet someone new.”

But it had been a date. An awkward, painful disaster of a first date that ended with me breaking that poor boy’s heart and leaving him just as shattered as I felt.

That’s when I’d learned the hard way about emotional transference-you can’t give someone what you don’t have yourself. You can’t make someone else whole when you’re still broken into pieces.

My mind snapped back to the present as I continued chopping vegetables with maybe more force than necessary, the rhythmic sound of the knife hitting the cutting board almost meditative.

I was trying–desperately trying-to focus on the simple task in front of me instead of the chaos inside my head.

Trying to listen to Hunter ramble on about his latest league game and his newest romantic conquest without thinking about blue eyes and dangerous smiles and a week of silence that was slowly driving me insane.

“I think she’s the one for me,” Hunter was saying, leaning against the kitchen counter with that dreamy, slightly dopey expression he always got when he thought he’d found his soulmate.

Which happened approximately every three weeks.

“She’s different, you know? Classy. Makes me want to actually be better instead of just pretending to be better. And she’s new to the medical team-just started as an intern last month.”

Hunter kept talking, his voice washing over me like background noise, but I was acutely aware that this was just another variation of the same story he’d told me dozens of times before.

Another woman. Another promise to himself that this time would be different. Another inevitable heartbreak waiting to happen.

But maybe I needed to have more faith in my stepbrother. Maybe this time really would be different. Maybe he’d actually follow through instead of self-sabotaging like he always did.

“But she’s impossible to get close to,” Hunter continued, running his hand through his hair in frustration. “She doesn’t even look at me properly. Just gives me these cold, dismissive eyes like I’m just another player trying to get into her pants.”

“You are just another player trying to get into her pants,” I said without looking up from the onion I was massacring. “And it’s probably a good thing she’s smart enough to see through your bullshit.”

Hunter’s face transformed immediately-shifting from hopeless romantic to something more mischievous, more dangerous.

That smile. That goddamn smile that meant he was about to say something that would cut right through whatever defenses I’d managed to build up.

“Player,” he repeated slowly, testing the word. “You know, I think it runs in the family. Especially considering how spectacularly you just played Zane Mercer.”

My hands froze mid-chop, the knife suspended in the air.

“Top NHL player,” Hunter continued, clearly enjoying himself now. “Star athlete. Supposedly unplayable. And you-my dear little sister-managed to play him so hard he doesn’t even know which way is up anymore. That’s impressive. That’s a whole new level even for you.”

Slowly-very slowly-I set the knife down and turned to face him fully.

“And what exactly do you know about my relationship with Zane big brother?” I asked, emphasizing those last two words because I knew how much he hated being called that.

Hunter’s smile faltered slightly. He’d always hated the title. Hated the responsibility and expectations it implied.

I wasn’t ready for another lecture. Another dissertation on all the reasons I should avoid Zane like he was toxic waste.

“What’s life without a little danger?” Hunter argued, and I could hear the smile in his voice. He loved pushing back against Diane’s overprotective tendencies. “Plus, Zane clearly has genuine feelings for her. I don’t see the problem-”

“He’s not just a little dangerous,” Diane interrupted, her voice getting harder. “He’s a different kind of dangerous. The kind that gets people hurt. The kind that ruins lives. And Olive is doing exactly the right thing by avoiding him completely. There are plenty of other men out there who would be much better for her.”

She was right in so many ways.

There were plenty of other men out there. Safer men. Simpler men. Men who didn’t come with dangerous pasts and family scandals and secrets they refused to share.

But none of them were Zane Mercer.

None of them made me feel alive the way he did.

None of them made me feel anything at all.

I must have made some sound-a groan or a sigh of frustration because both Hunter and Diane stopped arguing and turned to look at me.

“Olive, sweetheart,” Diane said, and her voice shifted to that gentle, excited tone that immediately made me nervous. “I know you’re stressed right now. I know this whole situation with Zane has been difficult. But I have something that might help. Something that might give you some perspective.”

Her face was practically glowing with excitement now, her pregnancy giving her this luminous quality that would have been beautiful if it wasn’t currently directed at destroying my life.

“What have you done, Mother?” I asked, forcing the words out through clenched teeth.

“Remember Judy Byron?” she asked, beaming at me like she’d just solved all my problems.

My stomach dropped.

No.