His Dangerous Love On Ice (Olivia and Zane) novel Chapter 185

Olive’s POV

But their whispers cut through the air like knives, cach comment finding its mark with devastating precision.

“Isn’t she the Mercer girl?” someone murmured, not even bothering to lower their voice enough that I couldn’t hear.

“Isn’t she the one dating that top hockey player? Zane Mercer?” another voice chimed in, this one belonging to an older woman wearing an expensive black dress and too much jewelry for a funeral.

“My daughter told me she stole her boyfriend,” a third person added, and I recognized the voice as belonging to someone who’d been at Hunter’s party, someone who’d probably witnessed the drama with Cole.

“Forget about that,” yet another voice cut in, sharper and more pointed. “Didn’t you hear? She was the last person seen with Judy before his death. They had dinner together the night he was murdered. Some people are saying the police questioned her.”

That was it-that final comment snapped whatever thin thread of patience I’d been holding onto.

I turned to glare at the older woman who’d spoken, someone who looked to be in her fifties with a pinched face and judgmental eyes, and I was about to open my mouth and say something that would absolutely cause the scene my mother was so worried about when a hand grabbed mine softly.

The touch was gentle but firm, turning me aside, and suddenly I was staring into a pair of incredibly silver eyes that looked so much like Judy’s it made my breath catch in my throat.

“Olive,” Michelle said, and her voice was thick with tears but also filled with something that sounded almost like relief. “I am so happy to see you here. I didn’t think you would come. But you did. You came.”

Before I could respond, before I could process what was happening, she pulled me into an embrace that took me completely by surprise, her arms wrapping around me tightly enough that I could feel her shaking, could feel the grief radiating off her in waves.

And the guilt that had been crawling through my head intensified tenfold because here I was, about to cause chaos at her son’s burial, about to make a scene and draw even more negative attention when all she wanted was to lay her child to rest with some semblance of dignity.

That said so much about me, didn’t it? About my selfishness, about my inability to think about anyone but myself.

Michelle pulled back from the hug after a moment, her hands still gripping my arms as she looked at me with red-rimmed eyes that held no trace of hatred or anger or resentment-none of the emotions I’d fully expected to see directed at me.

“I’m so sorry about your son’s death,” I managed to say, the word feeling inadequate and hollow even as they left my mouth. For just a second-so brief I almost missed it-something flashe in Michelle’s eyes, something that appeared too fast and disappeared too quickly for me to fully identify, but it looked almost like… fear? Pity?

“I have something I need to show you,” she said quietly, her voice dropping low enough that only I could hear her over the murmur of the crowd. “Something I believe you would want to know. Something Judy wanted you to know before he died.”

My heart skipped, then started hammering so hard I could feel in my throat, because the way she said it-with such weight, such significance-made fear crawl up my spine.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Not here,” Michelle glanced around at the gathered mourners, at the people still whispering and watching us. “After the service. Come back to the house with me. There’s something in Judy’s room-something he kept hidden for years-that I think will help you understand what really happened. To him. To your brother. To all of this.”

She squeezed my hands once more before releasing them and turning back toward the gathering, leaving me standing there with my heart racing and my mind spinning with possibilities.

What could Judy have possibly kept hidden that Michelle thought I needed to know?

And why did the look in her eyes make me feel like whatever I was about to discover would change everything?