Spiral (Off the Ice, #2) (96)

But then her gaze softens when I kiss her forehead. “Hi, Elias,” she whispers.

“Hi, baby.”

Sage is so outspoken and confident, but when I show her the smallest amount of gentle affection, she’s practically a shy girl again. Then she tightens her legs around me, urging me forward, and feeling like I can’t take another second, I sink into her.

She squeezes around every inch of me and takes what she needs. And I give her all of it.



“ONE LAST PICTURE!” is what my mom said before she made us stay an hour longer to pose in front of every tree outside our house. My parents love Sage. I know that because those pictures are going on the mantel.

But even as I feel lighter seeing my parents after so many months, it’s a blood relative that’s been on my mind. The check in my pocket was burning a hole in my pants all throughout lunch. Since Sage has to head back for rehearsals, our flight is tonight, and I had to schedule some time to finally wipe my hands clean of the mess that is my biological father.

Now, knocking on the metal door of the neglected house in Parkville, I’m aware this could have been the place I called home. Or it was until my parents stepped into the merry-go-round of foster care to adopt me.

I glance over my shoulder to where Sage sits in the car. It took a lot to persuade her to stay put and not accompany me. The neighborhood is not safe, so I made sure to lock the doors. Yet, from the way she peers through the window, I know she’s poised to leap into action at a moment’s notice.

The front door opens, and it’s like looking in a fucking mirror.

Elias Johnson stares at me through hooded eyes. He’s wearing a stained white tank top and sweatpants, holding a beer in his hand as his aged brown eyes survey me with disdain. His angular jawline and a straight nose strike a chord of familiarity. Despite this, nothing about him makes me feel nostalgic.

His gaze flickers over to the rental car, easily spotting the Beamer in the quiet street. I know he sees Sage, and I’m sure she’s staring right back, so I take a step to my left to block his view. We’re virtually the same size, but I have a few pounds of muscle on him, and his sluggish movements tell me he’d be out cold with a single hit.

I hold out the envelope, and his eyes finally drop to the white paper. He snatches it from me, ripping it open with one hand. He withdraws the check and scans the amount I’ve written on it. When his gaze meets mine, his eyes bulge in astonishment.

“What’s this for?” His deep voice is strained, like he’s been smoking. It sounds different, deeper than the last time I heard it. Four years ago.

“This is it. That’s the last check you’ll get from me. If you are careful, it should be enough for your ... lifestyle,” I say, taking a step back. “Don’t ever contact me again.”

Looking at him now feels like staring at a fragment of myself that got lost along the way, and yet this reunion leaves me feeling nothing.

His eyes dart to the car again, like he’s realizing something.

“You think this is enough? You’re makin’ ten times this.”

I release the tension in my jaw. “Because I put in the work. All you did was blackmail your own kid. So, you can spread your lies to the media, I don’t care, but this is the last time I’ll ever see you.”

The lines of anger deepen on his forehead, and he wears an expression I can’t quite pinpoint. I’m not sure I care to.

“Oh, the media will care a whole lot. You walk away, and I’ll make sure of that.”

I shake my head in pity. “You do that.”

There’s no anger anymore. There’s nothing. I only feel resignation when I step away from his look of displeasure. I walk straight back to the car, where everything good is, and I don’t look back once.

The scent of vanilla fills the air, bringing a smile to my face as I savor the quiet moment.

“You want to talk about it?” Sage asks softly from the passenger seat.

“Not right now, but I’m okay.”

Her presence alone is enough to ease the tension in my shoulders. As I’m removing my wallet from my pocket to drop it in the center console, Sage points to my hand.

“What’s that?” Her gaze fixates on my wrist.

I follow her finger to where my thin sweater bunches on my forearms, revealing the freshly wrapped tattoo under the clear bandage. I had planned to surprise her with it later.

“Elias, what is this?” Her voice wavers when she pulls my wrist toward her, dusting her fingers over the reddened skin where the fresh tattoo sits.

“It’s a plant,” I reply. The stems intertwine to curl around my wrist, their multiple branches covering the surface of my skin in a meticulous design.

Her eyes dart to mine. “What plant?” “Sage.”

“Sage?

Is ... is this why you disappeared earlier?” Her voice shakes. “Your mom said you were helping with groceries.”

“I was,” I confirm.

Her disbelief deepens. “And a tattoo just happened to be on the grocery list?” she deadpans. “Why?”

“You know why.”

She shakes her head. “No, actually I don’t.”

“Because I love you, and I want you with me all the time, even on the days you can’t be.”

A moment of quiet lingers, thick with unspoken thoughts.