heat beneath the ice
349 Words
---
*Chapter Three — Heat Beneath the Ice*
Zara didn’t sleep that night.
She lay in bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, heart racing like it was trying to escape her chest. His voice echoed in her head—*“You should go to bed.”* The way his eyes lingered. The way neither of them moved.
By morning, her mind was still foggy, but she knew one thing: she couldn’t avoid him. Not in this house. Not with Lila dragging her around like a personal shadow.
They went sledding in the early afternoon. Mr. Donovan didn’t come. Zara half-expected to see him at every corner, but he stayed invisible. That only made it worse. It made her crave his presence like a secret drug.
Later, while Lila took a nap in front of the fireplace, Zara tiptoed upstairs, claiming she was getting socks. But her feet moved past her room. Down the hallway. Toward the room with the heavy oak door.
His door.
She paused. Hand hovering near the handle.
It opened before she could knock.
Mr. Donovan stood there, phone in one hand, expression unreadable. “Are you lost?” he asked coolly.
“No.”
His jaw clenched. He stepped aside. “Five minutes.”
She walked in.
His room was neat, dark, minimalist. Cold, except for the weight of tension in the air.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, shutting the door quietly. “If Lila finds out—”
“She won’t.”
“You’re a child,” he snapped, eyes flashing.
“I’m not,” she said, stepping closer. “And you don’t talk to me like that when no one’s around.”
He said nothing.
She could feel the heat between them, like an invisible current. Dangerous. Forbidden. Addictive.
“Tell me to leave,” she whispered.
He stared at her. For a long, drawn-out second.
Then, quietly, like it cost him something—
“Leave.”
She did.
But the way his voice cracked told her everything she needed to know:
He didn’t want her to.
---
- Writer
