Fire on Ice

Part 27

Nora POV

I drive incredibly slowly on the way to Nikolas' apartment, not only because I literally can't drive, but also because I'm nervous on how our impending conversation is going to go. I'm finally getting to know Nikolas' past, and based on what everyone's told me, it's pretty bad.

I make a wobbly left turn into the parking garage and he says to park in any spot. I do so and turn off the car and we head up to his apartment. This is on the nicer side of San Francisco, and Nikolas hits the button for the top floor in the elevator. The elevator ride is silent and awkward, but halfway through, Nikolas grabs my hand and doesn't let go. I don't fight him on it because I do want to fix things, and he seems to be trying. No matter how many times he fucks up I can never seem to turn him away. He has as much of a hold on me as I seem to have on him. He interlaces our fingers and rubs the inside of my wrist with his thumb. It makes my heart flutter for a second, and I mildly hate how much control he has over me. We get to the top floor and step out. He leads me to the end of the hall and grabs his keys for what seems like the biggest apartment on this floor.

His apartment is all black and very minimalist, with a sleek modern look. There are floor to ceiling windows in the living room that give a perfect view of the Golden Gate Bridge.

"Wow" I whisper out.

"I know." He says, but when I look at him, he's looking at me. I blush and he heads to the kitchen to get some water. After he gives me a glass, he downs an entire bottle. The awkwardness has returned and nobody is saying anything, but I came here to get answers.

"Nikolas, I need an explanation." He nods and starts, "I know you think that I don't want to let you in because I can't commit, but that's not the whole truth."

He takes a deep breath before continuing, "The first 7 or so years of my life were perfect. I had friends, a family, I had just started skating. I was all great. But one day, it all came crashing down."

"I had just come home from skating practice, and only my dad was home. I'd had a really good practice, and I wanted to tell him about it. I rushed upstairs to their bedroom and burst through the door," he pauses, "to find him having sex with another woman." I gasp and cover my mouth.

He keeps going, "When my dad found me, he was so angry. He didn't even try to deny it, I mean how could he? But he made me swear not to tell my mom, otherwise he'd hurt me. I knew his threats were serious because he'd done it before when I first asked him to move from ice hockey to skating. I mean my mom literally had to pull him off me. He was punching me so much." Nikolas' voice cracks and my heart feels like it's been shattered. How could someone do this to their child?

"I kept the secret for almost nine months. I waited until my mom had my little sister, because I knew we couldn't support ourselves without my father. When I told her, she was shocked. On the surface, their relationship was perfect: a loving wife and doting husband, and that's what my mom thought it really was. But the second she found out, she kicked him out and filed for divorce. Luckily, our house was paid for and he didn't care enough to fight for it, so we got to keep it. But before he left," Nikolas looks away and swallows, "he told me that we're more alike than we think. That all men do this and that I'd understand when I was older, and that one day, eventually, I'd do the same to a woman. And I-'', he stutters, "I care about you too much to put you through that."

Everything seems to click in place, and his hesitations about being in a relationship are completely justified. He's traumatized. No matter how irrational it all sounds, it's because this fear was engraved in him when he was a little kid. I can tell he knows it doesn't make sense but he can't seem to let it go and that's what's causing pain. I walk around to his side of the kitchen island and wrap my arms around his torso. My head goes to rest on his chest and I say, "Nikolas you're nothing like him. Just because he made mistakes doesn't mean you're not going to make the same ones." His arms go to pull me in and he kisses the top of my head. He lifts me up onto the kitchen counter and stands in between my legs. My hands cup his sharp jawline and I thumb away some stray tears that fell.