His Dangerous Love On Ice (Olivia and Zane) novel Chapter 26

OLIVE’S POV

My father’s wife.

I shouldn’t have clicked on them. I knew better. But my thumb moved on its own, opening the app and navigating to the burner account I’d created six months ago just to keep tabs on them. On the life my father had built without me.

The first photo was of my half-siblings-twins, four years old, matching pumpkin-themed outfits. They were at some fancy pumpkin patch, surrounded by hay bales and cornstalks, their faces lit up with the kind of pure, uncomplicated joy I barely remembered feeling as a kid.

The second photo was of my father. He was crouched down between the twins, his arms around them, smiling wider than I’d ever seen him smile. Not the tight, forced smile he’d given me during the few visits he’d bothered to show up for after the divorce. This was real. Genuine. The kind of smile that said, ‘these are my kids and I love them.’

The caption read, “Best day ever with my favorite people!” laugh emoji* *love emoji*

My chest tightened. His favorite people. Not all his people. Not the daughter he’d left behind when she was fifteen because being a father was too hard and my mom was too much work and I reminded him too much of his failures.

Just his favorite ones.

I scrolled through the other photos-Annie looking perfect in her designer boots and oversized sweater, the twins laughing, my father looking at his new family like they were everything.

And I was nothing.

How fast both my parents have moved on after our great loss-Ishoved the thoughts off.

I locked my phone and threw it on the bed, blinking back the burn in my eyes because I was not crying over him again. I’d stopped crying over my father years ago. He didn’t deserve my tears. Didn’t deserve anything from me.

But it still hurt.

It always fucking hurts.

I dried off and pulled on the green dress, zipping it up with shaking hands. It fit perfectly, hugging my curves in all the right places, the neckline just low enough to be daring without crossing into desperate. Brenda would approve. Hell, Brenda would probably take credit.

I did my makeup quickly-winged eyeliner, mascara, a swipe of dark red lipstick that made me look older, bolder, like someone who had their shit together instead of someone who was falling apart.

My phone buzzed again.

Ryan: ‘Can’t wait to collect, sweetheart. See you soon.

My stomach lurched. I grabbed my clutch, shoved my phone inside, and headed for the door before I could talk myself out of going and ignore the tons of messages from Brenda. If I was going to survive tonight, I needed to stop thinking. Stop feeling. Just get through it.

The party was at some hotel ballroom downtown, close enough that my mom had insisted we walk instead. The November air bit at my bare arms and I regretted not bringing a jacket, but was too late now. We were already there, walking through the lobby toward the sound of music and voices.

The ballroom doors were open and I could see inside-chandeliers, round tables covered in white linens, a bar in the corner surrounded by men in suits. It was exactly the kind of party I hated. Too many people, too much noise, too many opportunities for everything to go wrong.

“There’s Hunter,” my mom said, pointing toward the front of the room where my stepbrother was standing with a group of players, all of them laughing at something he’d said. He looked good. Confident. Like he belonged here.

I wondered if he’d sold out anyone else to get this far, or if I was special.

“Come on.” My mom tugged me forward and I followed, weaving through the crowd toward our table. Grayson was already there, talking to someone I didn’t recognize. He looked up when we approached, his expression softening when he saw my mom.

“There you are,” he said, kissing her cheek. Then he looked at me “Olive. You look beautiful.”

“Thanks.” I sat down, crossing my legs and trying not to look as comfortable as I felt.

My mom leaned over and whispered, “See that man over there?y the bar?”

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