Ignite Me, Ice Captain

Hello

As soon as Avery stepped outside, she yanked off the hairband her mum had requested—no, demanded—she wear to keep her hair “neatly” tugged away from her face while she ate. The thick mass tumbled free, settling comfortably around her shoulders, just as liberating as the fresh breath filling her lungs.

Her duty as a daughter officially fulfilled, she slammed the door of her Roadster, stepped on the gas, and shot out of there, fuelled by her resolution to outrun the Calloway-ness in her life.

She dialled Cassie to ask if the last ticket she had for that high-end, exclusive nightclub they the talked about on phone was still up for grabs.

“Hiii,” Cassie slurred into the mouthpiece.

No gagging sound followed, so it was safe to assume that whatever massive c**k she was dealing with tonight was in a different hole—leaving her free to chat.

If she ever doubted she was a broken girl, the company she kept just about erased all uncertainty. She had no favourites among them, no kindred spirits—just a rotating cast of whoever was available to fill the immediate void of companionship. The other girls operated the same way, each seeking momentary relief from whatever ghosts haunted them.

Cassie, though, was the closest thing she had to a real friend. Most of the others were predictable products of broken homes—girls who grew up in trailer parks with drunk parents, battle-worn before their time. But Cassie understood her, really understood her, without reducing her to some spoiled girl from a rich home. Lining their friendship was an indisputable desire to sever ties with their families by any means necessary—short of murder, perhaps.

Cassie, though not from a family that turned heads at the mere mention of their name, still carried the weight of suffocating expectations. She wasn’t just smart—she was a prodigy, the kind of genius whose IQ impressed the world. Her parents saw her as their golden ticket to a life of prestige, an insurance policy for future wealth and recognition. But instead of nurturing their little goldmine with care, they prodded, pressured, and controlled until Cassie wished she’d never been born.

So, in the ultimate act of rebellion, she had dropped out of her Ivy League scholarship, picked up a low-paying, menial job, and fled Texas the moment she could afford a plane ticket. Now, she studied pottery—claiming that was her call—and spent her nights making up for the joy she’d been deprived of for most of her life. Her reckless celebrations of freedom usually ended with a random man (sometimes men) inside her.

Avery didn’t approve of the sheer recklessness of it—because, come on, the pill could fail, and STDs were still a thing—but she also wasn’t one to dish out the ‘slut’ label anyhow. If anything, it was wildly thrilling to watch someone embrace their hedonism with such shameless enthusiasm. And, on occasion, it was downright steamy to live vicariously through Cassie’s escapades, imagining what it would be like to be taken hard and without inhibition like she sometimes watched it happen to her. Judging by Cassie’s breathless pants and blissed-out grins, it had to be leagues better than the lackluster s*x she’d endured with Roy in his dingy little hut behind the car wash.

“Still at the club, I presume?” Avery asked.

“Oh, absolutely,” Cassie giggled. “I just met a guy by name Nick—(Did I get your name right?). Yep, he says that is his name. I can’t f*****g tell if it’s his real name or not, but s**t, he’s so good with his tool.”

“Well, good for you. That ticket still in your possession?”

“Yeah, should be in my pocket. I’ll find it for you just as soon as I can—uh—locate my jeans.”

She let out a moan, which quickly turned into a series of gasping wails. Avery arched a brow, quite certain that Nick—if that was indeed his name—was banging her hard.

“Great,” she muttered. “See you there in a jiffy.”

“Wait, you’re actually coming? They let you off early today?”

“I got lucky.” She grinned at her own reflection in the rearview mirror, even though Cassie couldn’t see her.

Cassie had sent her the location earlier when she’d tried to convince her to tag along. The drive home would’ve taken forty-five minutes. To the nightclub was an extra ten, since she’d be veering off at the intersection instead of heading straight home. That fifty-five-minute stretch was spent jamming toa cool mix of country and pop that made the journey feel like a warm-up to a night of mindless fun.

Cassie, done with Nick, met her at the entrance, ticket in hand.

Inside, the place was electric. The DJ was killing it, bodies moved in sync with the bass, and the energy was intoxicating. Thankfully, it wasn’t one of those clubs Cassie sometimes dragged her to—the kind where no one so much as blinked at a couple going at it in a dark corner. Maybe that was what made this one “high-end” in Cassie’s book.

Cassie led her to a table, empty except for the impressive lineup of bottles. Seven beers down, and as soon as they sat, Cassie was already waving for another.

Avery eyed the growing tab with mild amusement. Knowing Cassie’s finances, she’d probably end up covering the bill, as usual. It made her wonder just how deep a hole Cassie would dig in her pocket if she actually paid for every drink herself. Then again, maybe she had... alternative payment methods, like the one she’d so generously extended to Nick, which she was catered for any she’d had before sitting down at that table. There was no way her nightlife was sustainable on her budget alone.

With a burning need to scorch away the remnants of that insufferable dinner conversation, she ordered a spirit so potent she bet it could burn out her entire internal organs.

“What was their gripe tonight?”

Avery swirled the dark liquid in her glass, watching it catch the light in rich, amber ribbons. “Apparently, my eggs are on a timer, and if I don’t hurry up, I’ll be the family disgrace. Imagine the horror—an independent woman with no husband or offspring leeching off her potential. So, Mum’s decided it’s high time I got myself shackled to a man and started breeding.”

Cassie burst into laughter. “Why wait to be shackled to a man? There are plenty swarming around us right now. Just pick one, get yourself knocked up on the spot—I’m sure your mum would be thrilled.”

“Enticing idea.” She grimaced as the fiery liquid scorched its way painful down her throat. Yep, exactly the good stuff to do the work she wanted of it. “A man from this crowd would certainly give my baby a good head start in being socially acceptable.”

Cassie smirked. “So, you’re looking for a dumb-dumb to balance out the genius in you? Sweetheart, you do know that’s only theoretically sensible, right? Your genes could still dominate, and so could his.”

“At least it’s worth a shot,” she countered, swirling the last drops of her drink. “I’d rather not have a child who ends up as miserable as me. She should have a chance at a normal life—make mistakes, learn from them, make her own decisions, and just… live for herself. Not to impress or please anyone. If her IQ falls below 130, trust me, my parents won’t even bother about her.” She set the glass down with a clink. “Anyway, how was this Nick guy? Hot?”

“For the love of God, I can’t even recall the face on that magnificent body,” Cassie snorted, taking a swig of her beer. “You know full well looks aren’t part of my selection criteria. The size of what’s swinging between his legs put him at the top of tonight’s rankings. For all I care, he could’ve been sixteen.”

“I sometimes wonder if you hear yourself speak,” she snorted too, shaking her head.

Her gaze drifted over the men scattered beneath the kaleidoscope of flashing lights. What would it take… what would it cost her if she did exactly as Cassie suggested? If, for once in her life, she just grabbed some hot, brainless bloke, dragged him into the washroom, got down on him, and let him finish inside her?

The horror she imagined on her mum’s face when she announced she was pregnant by a random guy she met at a nightclub—one whose face she couldn’t even recall—made the idea all the more appealing.

“So, what do you say? Should I link you up? Just give me the specs, and I’ll have him on a short lease at our table in no time.”

Without waiting for a response—deciding she needed none—Cassie slid off her seat and disappeared into the throng of bodies.

Avery merely continued nursing her drink, taking slow sips, and waiting. She hadn’t quite decided if she was ready to fool around with just any guy, but she was curious to see what kind of prime cut Cassie would drag back.

She didn’t have to wait long. Cassie was back, and she’d doubled the order—two guys, both undeniably handsome, both wearing the kind of cocky smirks that suggested their brains worked about as well as their d***s.

“Simon, Tony, meet my girlfriend, Avery. Avery, your birthday gift from me. It’s my girlfriend’s birthday today”—(No, it wasn’t)—“and she needs to feel good.”

“Hi, Avery.” The one introduced as Tony inclined his head, one corner of his mouth curling into a grin. “You’re just my type. So where do we go? My car’s in the parking lot. It’s a Traverse RS — plenty of room in the back for us.”

Avery nearly choked on her drink.

“C’mon, Tony. Is that how you woo a lady?” Cassie chided, smacking his bottom.

“Yeah, man. Put a little class in it,” the other one added, flashing what he probably thought was a charming grin. “Avery, can we sit and maybe have a chat?”

Avery shrugged. Not that she cared. She was leaving soon anyway. That level of bluntness was more than she could tolerate in an i***t.

And they got worse. Jumping straight to intimate questions—whether she preferred both of them at once or one at a time, if she was on the pill. By the time they reached what kind of foreplay she enjoyed, with Simon’s hand boldly slipping between her thighs, nearly grazing her underwear, she was more than ready to make her escape.

Deliverance came in the form of a phone call from the doctor-on-call at the clinic.

“Sorry, got to go. I’m being summoned back to the hospital. It’s possibly an emergency.”

When the two men just stared blankly at her, she snapped, “I’m a doctor.”

“Hunh?” Tony’s mouth went askew in shock.

Had he imagined she was a stripper or something?

“Don’t be disappointed. Cassie here has plenty to offer to make up for me.”

Cassie responded to the “compliment” with a smirk. She and Tony had been kissing when Avery announced her departure, one tit already hanging out of her halter top, and Tony eliciting moans from her by pinching the n****e.

Mike attempted to persuade her to sit back down, making a bold grab for her bottom as she passed. She swatted his hand away and hurried on her way.

Davis had mentioned Logan Pierce, but with the deafening noise of the club, she hadn’t caught what he said about her patient. A flicker of unease settled in her stomach. She tried calling him back, but all she got was the busy tone.

When she got into her car, she tossed the phone onto the passenger seat and reversed out of the parking space, pulling onto the street with an urgent speed. Every patient was important to her, but Pierce, she considered a special case. His injury seemed more psychological than physical, and she had a feeling that if she didn’t handle him with the utmost care, he’d never fully recover—not just his body, but his game.

She made a brief stop to change into clogs before striding to Room 402. She still hadn’t gotten through to Davis to get more details about Pierce, but seeing that no bright light seeped from under the door, and there were no loud cries to “clear” before the defibrillator was applied, she felt a small measure of relief as she pushed it open.

The light was completely off when it was usually kept dim at night. Without questioning too much what could have prompted the change, she flicked on the switch by the door.

A hissed curse met the flood of light.

Logan Pierce was up, elevate into a sitting position on the bed.

She let out a startled cry.

“Sorry for startling you.” He rubbed his left eye and let out a yawn. “I require complete darkness to sleep. Would you mind switching the light off again?”

She didn’t comply. Instead, she approached, eyes narrowed in scrutiny.

He had been asleep for a good one hundred and thirteen days, and he could lift his arm to his eye?

He blinked and stared back with the same kind of wonder that was registered on her face.

“So, you’re Dr. Calloway,” he murmured, his eyes drifting slowly over her. Then, as if appreciating the revelation, a smile curved his lips. “Hello.”