Spiral (Off the Ice Book 2)
Spiral: Chapter 41

FAMILY DINNERS HAVE always been an important part of my life. Whether it was with my parents or at our off-campus house in college, I’ve made it a point to eat with the people I love.

“So, what’s off the table?” Sage asks.

She dozed off the minute we boarded the plane to Connecticut. Now, as we’re driving to my parents’ house in Greenwich, she’s awake and stressing herself out.

“Just be yourself. They already love you,” I reassure her.

“They love the Sage they’ve seen online and spoken to over the phone. This is Sage in the flesh.”

“Arguably the best version.” I glance over at her. “You won’t say anything wrong.”

“So sex talk is a go? I’ll tell them about the time we almost broke the showerhead.”

I clear my throat. “Okay, maybe some things are off the table. We can make a list.”

She sighs with relief. “Thank you. I’m not good with parents, Elias. If I don’t have a filter, I’ll terrify them.”

Flipping open the mirrored visor above her seat, Sage fixes her hair. She applies gloss, and her lips move like she’s memorizing something. Then she pulls out her phone to take notes. “Okay, so no sex talk, and I’m assuming that means no dirty jokes either.”

“How about we just avoid anything we wouldn’t talk to Sean about?”

“Oh, that’s good!” She types it into her phone. “But what about telling them we’re perfect for each other because we both have terrible birth parents?”

“Let’s leave my bio dad out of it. They don’t know about the money, and I want to keep it that way.”

Sage puts her phone away, and her hand finds mine. “Are you sure you’re okay with doing that today?”

I turn to her at a red light. “I don’t want him dictating any part of my life. It’s not fair to me or my parents. Or you.” I’ve been mulling this over for weeks, but when Mason found Elias Johnson’s address, I knew it had to be done.

There’s no room for clouds over my head when I have a ray of sunshine in my hands.

Sage draws a soothing pattern over my knuckles, but when I pull into my parents’ estate, she gawks out the window. The wrought iron gates swing open, revealing the long driveway flanked by meticulously manicured lawns. The air is heavy with the scent of freshly cut grass and the blooming magnolia trees. My mom’s favorite. And based on Sage’s candle collection, hers too.

Sage chuckles nervously. “I don’t think I’m dressed for this.”

Her floral summer dress makes her look innocent and nothing like the girl who had me pinned under her last night. “Should I remind you how much I like your dresses?”

She gasps. “This is not the time to be saying things like that!”

We approach the front entrance, where I park. The golden sun reflects off the floor-to-ceiling windows on the front of the house. When I’m rounding the car to open Sage’s door, my parents descend the front steps to greet us.

My parents bypass me and engulf Sage in a sandwich of a hug. I’m watching in shock as they giggle with glee. Sage stares at me wide-eyed.

“Okay, you two are going to crush her,” I say, pulling them away.

“I don’t mind,” Sage pipes up, still looking stunned.

My dad steps back. “Apologies. We’re usually more sophisticated.”

“Not true.” I interject. “The first game of mine they went to, they managed to piss off an entire section of parents. The bright green poster board they brought to cheer me on blocked everyone’s view the entire game. By the time someone told them, the game was half over.”

“Some children appreciate their parents’ support,” scolds my mom.

“I always appreciate you guys.” I pull her in for a tight hug. Jane Westbrook is short, only five foot two, so when she hugs me back, her face barely comes to my chest.

My dad slaps a hand on my back. “Our friends came over to watch your final.”

I shake my head. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Are you kidding? You played a hell of a game, son. The commentators even said so.”

“Exactly. You don’t score three goals on a fluke,” adds Sage.

My mom is beaming so wide I’m sure it’s hurting her face. “It’s so nice to finally see you in person, Sage. How long are you two here?”

“We head out tomorrow,” I answer. With Sage’s rehearsals we only have one free night.

My mom doesn’t approve but waves us inside quickly. The patio is arranged in their backyard for an outdoor dinner. The long table is decorated with flowers and candles. My mom made a huge roast chicken dinner like we’re having a Christmas feast. I have no complaints because her food is my favorite. She’s the reason I enjoy cooking.

As we help bring out the food and set the table, Sage appears lost in thought.

“You okay?” I ask, pulling her from her daydream. The only sounds out here are the quiet clinking of utensils against plates and the soft hum of my parents’ conversation.

“Yeah,” she replies. “I’m just acclimating. I’ve never sat at a table like this before.”

One would think she’s referring to the food or the patio, but I know she means family.

My lips graze the side of her temple. “Guess I’m taking a few of your firsts too.”

“You’re taking a lot more than just a few,” she whispers.

We pass around the side of roasted vegetables, and my dad cuts into the chicken. “So, how long have you two been together?” he asks.

“A few weeks.”

“Months,” I correct. “We’ve been together for three months.”

“Right.” Sage laughs awkwardly, hiding her face behind a long gulp of water.

“Who keeps track anyway?” my mom says. “I can’t tell you how long it’s been for us.”

My dad feigns offense. “Thirty years next month.”

My mom plants a kiss on his cheek in a silent apology. The rest of our conversation mostly revolves around Sage, and I love it. She looks happy here. But when the conversation pivots to my teenage years, I grow stiff.

“You’ve come a long way, Eli,” my mom remarks. “I didn’t like how you became after the world juniors.”

“Jane,” my dad admonishes.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice trembles, and tears well in her eyes. “If someone messes with my kid, I can’t help but feel angry.”

“Mom, you don’t need to carry that anger,” I assure. “But I am sorry that I’ve caused—”

“Why would you be sorry? If anything, it’s our greatest regret that we ever doubted you,” she interjects.

I had no clue my mom carried that day with her as heavily as I do. The weight of disappointing them has always burdened me, but realizing it affects them just as deeply releases something in my chest.

“It’s okay,” I offer, but her expression remains somber.

Sage squeezes my hand. “I would be angry too, but Elias has come so far that I’m in awe of him every day. You two did a great job.”

Her words work like a balm, smoothing away the tension from my mom’s face.

For the remainder of dinner we skirt any conversation about my recent past, and my parents regale Sage with stories from my childhood instead. Embarrassing, but they make her laugh.

When we’re finished with dinner, we head inside. “Eli, your room is exactly as you left it. I’ve stocked the bathroom with some toiletries,” she says, turning to Sage with a warm smile. “Let me know if you need anything.”

When my parents head to the living room, I pull Sage toward the opposite side of the house, to my room. Halfway down the hall, she hops onto my back, and I swing open my door and playfully deposit her onto my bed. My room has always been a slate gray color with a king bed and an en suite. I was never the type to decorate with posters or have colorful bedsheets.

Sage floats around my room, her gaze wandering from the vinyls gifted by Kian, to the stack of books on my bedside table, to the pictures of my family—the guys and my parents.

She smiles at the picture of younger me and my parents wearing custom T-shirts with a picture of the three of us and the words “The Westbrooks” printed on them. “Do you want kids?” she suddenly asks.

The question surprises me but not nearly as much as I would have expected. “Do you?”

She laughs. “You can’t just copy my answer.”

“Well, if we’re having them together, I think I’d want your input,” I say.

“This is probably a bad time to tell you about my husband, then.” She glances over her shoulder to catch my unamused expression. “I think I want to adopt.”

“Yeah?”

She nods. “I was so scared of Sean having to go through foster care, but seeing your parents tells me there’s some good out there. And I’d like to be a part of it someday.”

I didn’t think Sage could get any more perfect. But she proves me wrong every day. She moves on to twirl the blue nylon of my World Junior Championships ribbon between her fingers before holding it up to me. “The big moment?”

“Huge.”

She puts it back. “Do you keep it as a memory?”

“Not a fond one.”

She moves toward my dresser and looks through the drawers like she’ll find something. Her fingers run along the neutral shirts and pants. “You know other colors exist, right?”

I follow to where she stands. “I think you wear enough for the both of us.”

She glances at her yellow sundress, beaming.

“You done, warden?” I say.

Sage collapses onto my bed and looks at me like I’m supposed to know what she’s thinking. I think I have a pretty good idea when I take a step forward and her eyes flare. Enjoying her thrumming anticipation, I pivot and lean against the dresser instead.

We stare at each other for a long beat.

“What’s your move?” she asks, lifting onto her elbows.

“My move?”

She runs a hand over the gray comforter. “Yeah, like in high school? How did you get the girl?”

My face must show my confusion.

She sits up. “If I was a girl you

“You are.”

“What would you do?”

“You’re already in my room, I don’t think I need to try any harder.”

She doesn’t seem satisfied with my straightforward response. Sage makes a move for the door. But I intercept her before she can reach it, allowing my lips to trail along the side of her neck. Brushing her hair aside, I press my nose against the curve of her throat, inhaling her sweet vanilla scent. “Tell me what you want,” I murmur.

She turns so her back is against the door. “I want you to pretend.”

When Sage asks for what she wants, it always makes my heart race. I can never predict what she’ll ask for, but she knows I’ll give it to her no matter what.

A shiver rolls through her when I allow my warm breath to fall on her sensitive skin. “First, I’d ask if you would want to go somewhere quiet.”

Her sigh of pure pleasure escapes when she grips my forearms. “Yes. Take me somewhere quiet.”

I slip my hand over the curve of her ass, slowly lifting the fabric of her sundress. “Then I’d make sure you were sober.”

“I am.” Her answer is shaky and breathless.

Our mouths brush, and her breath hitches.

“Then I’d ask if I could kiss you,” I whisper right against her lips. I don’t hear her answer. Instead, she raises herself up to meet my lips. Her mouth is hot and needy, her nails digging into my wrists, telling me she wants this—me—now.

She pulls back. “You’re not going to ask if I’m single?” she purrs, playing along. She moans when I lift her dress to her waist. Letting my hand slide over the bare skin.

“No.” I pull her bottom lip between my teeth. “Because I don’t care.”

“Oh, you should, my boyfriend is huge. We need to make this quick.” She tries to move me to the bed, but I don’t budge. wanted—“

“I’m taking my time with you. Your boyfriend can wait.” I trail kisses along her collarbone, pulling her dress over her head. The perfect view of her breasts makes my blood heat. I take her nipple into my mouth, squeezing a handful in my palm, and enjoying the way she writhes against me. With a flick of my thumb, I hook it into the waistband of her panties and tug them down until they slip off her hips. My kisses trail lower, descending her trembling body, and I can feel her pulse ricochet against my lips. She yelps when I pull her leg over my shoulder and press her firmly into the door. The house is large enough that my parents won’t hear, and Sage must know it, because she moans loudly when I push two fingers inside her.

“More,” she cries. “I need more.”

Listening to her breathy command, my mouth seals over her clit as she shakes. “You look so pretty spread open. Is this all for me? Just from the sound of my voice?” I whisper against her slick pussy.

Sage’s eyes squeeze shut, her fingers tangling in the long hair at the nape of my neck.

“You want more?”

She moans in pleasure. “Yes. Give me more.”

With two fingers already inside her, I increase my speed to match her moans. When the languid strokes of my tongue accompany the movements, she gasps and arches her back.

I curve my fingers at the perfect angle, and within seconds her toes curl and her orgasm comes crashing. She’s loose limbs and quick breaths when I move back up to her face.

“Can your boyfriend make you do that?”

“I don’t know,” she pants. “You should do it again, so I can really compare.”

I lift her and drop her on my bed, her curly hair bouncing. If I wasn’t so fucking hard right now, I’d spend an eternity staring at every inch of her, committing it to memory.

With a hand to the back of my head, she pulls me in for a desperate kiss. Her hips grind against mine and I pull back to remove my clothes, tossing my shirt, jeans, and boxers into a messy pile. I line up my cock between her legs, slipping the tip between her slick folds. Sage’s eyes light with the same fire I feel inside.

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.

Then Sage bursts into tearful laughter, a sound that feels infectious. She wipes her eyes and sits there like she’s not sure how to grapple with the information. For a second, I think it may be too much, but in the next heartbeat, she releases her seat belt to face me.

“You got it for me?”

I give her a blank look. “I don’t know anyone else named Sage.”

She laughs. “You could just really love the herb.”

“No, I think I really love the girl.”

Then Sage climbs over the center console, and I catch her on my lap. She hugs me. She hugs me like she needs me, and it’s more than I could ever ask for. The embrace is a wave of bliss, a flood that momentarily helps drown out the knowledge that we’ll be apart soon. In this instant, all that matters is the warmth of her presence and the reassurance that she’s here with me.

“Let’s go home,” she whispers into the crook of my neck.

I nod, but she doesn’t know that I’m already there.