Ice Bound

By Karli Rush

Marcus Colten is living the perfect life, high school football star and dating the head cheerleader. He is popular, skilled in athletics and from a wealthy family. The football team he quarterbacks for just won their first district championship.

Marc doesn't show it, but he is being haunted. Orphaned at the early age of two, he has ghostly memories of a past that makes his flawless model life feel out of place. And then there are the illusive dreams. Visions of someone that relentlessly possess his nights. What does it all mean? Where will it all lead? This time, he’s not the one that is at the top of the game.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Karli Rush
• Release date: Oct 4, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311482044

Karli Rush

Karli Rush was born in the heart of the Cherokee Nation and lives in its capital. Her Native American heritage holds sway over her writing in many ways. She has the patience of a brain surgeon operating under fire in a war zone. You can chalk that up to her being the mother of an autistic kiddo. With the passion of a starving artist, she writes. The obsession to tell her tales has led her to write novels in the worlds of Dark Paranormal Romance, Dystopian, and Vampires. She walks in two worlds, one grounds her and the other frees her imagination.https://linktr.ee/KarliRush

Book preview

Trauma Room

"Marcus…Marcus, can you hear me? My mom’s puritan voice seems like it echoes dully inside my head. I breathe out slowly before I open my eyes. My skull throbs as if I just hit a solid concrete wall. An extremely annoying, beeping sound catches my attention before I hear my mother sternly ask, Michael, I’m well aware that you are the chief physician here, but do you really think it’s necessary to keep him overnight?"

What the fuck—I’m in the hospital…what the hell happened? My mind draws a blank. I can’t remember what happened. It’s all blurry, but I do remember being out on the field, standing on the thirty-yard line. It’s the last game. Either you win it, or you lose it. The weather is bitterly cold and crisp and on the brink of its first snowfall. A light drizzle showers over the scoreboard, which reads 17 to 14. We’re up by three, and the anticipation in the crowd is historically tense. I throw an interception. Their defender lunges in front of our receiver, catching the ball, and charges like a centaur toward our end zone. I remember lowering my helmet just as he did, and the impact must have been brutal because I don’t know what happened after that. That’s where it all goes dark for me.

I bet a million bucks this place is crammed packed. I’m sure the whole football team is around here. Hell, I bet half the school is outside somewhere. Marc, son, you did it! Dad congratulates me as he gently shakes my shoulder. You won the Championship! There’s a crowd just outside those doors you won’t believe! Dad clears his throat with a bogus cough and says, Hey, Mike, we are taking our son home, right? He leans on the hospital railing and gives the doctor a pressing but encouraging nod. Doctor Eckhart and Dad go way back. If my memory hasn’t completely failed me, I believe they grew up together. And now they golf together every chance they get, take golfing vacations every year to California and sometimes to Mexico. I watch between the two. Dad, on the right of me, eyeing Dr. Eckhart and Dr. Eckhart on the left as he looks over my chart in his hands.

He studies the chart carefully as he flips through the paperwork and finally looks at me and says, You had us worried for a moment there, Marc. How are you feeling? He takes out a medical penlight and aims it at my left eye and then the other eye.

I feel okay, actually, I reply and flex my hands out and expect to feel some kind of pain, but not even the slightest ache occurs. I tilt my head back and realize the throbbing has quit. It must be the pain meds they’re giving me, but as I glance over, I notice there’s no IV pump or IV line running in me.

He writes something quickly down and says, Well, your X-rays and CT scans look good. He looks up at my mom briefly, and then my dad, and announces, "He can go home, but he must be monitored, check on him every few hours and make sure he doesn’t think he’s king after that heroic win. He gives a subtle approving wink toward my dad and adds, I do want to mention to keep a close eye on him while he sleeps. With a head injury like the one he just endured, it’s important to make sure you wake him every two hours. Let me know if anything changes. You know how to reach me, Jim."

Dad slips his brown tweed jacket on, yanking the sleeves down, and says, Certainly, Mike. How’s the Huskies’ defender doing? Mom cuts him a repellent look and walks out with the nurse to sign the discharge papers. She doesn’t care about the other team, nor does she have time for idle chit-chat if it doesn’t involve legal logistics.

He’s conscious and aware, but I believe we’re keeping him overnight for observation. It’s really just a precautionary protocol. You know…Jim, I did hire a new doctor the other day. Straight in from UCLA Medical Center. She won’t be starting until this coming August, though, Mike states proudly to my dad as he scribbles a few more notes down in the chart.

Well, you certainly are hitting the big time now, aren’t you, Mike. Will that mean you’ll be taking more time off? My dad chuckles jokingly as he pats the doctor on the arm. An attractive short blonde nurse dodges around them and hands me a sheet of paper. It’s aftercare instructions for concussions. I remember seeing her here before. Blake, one of my football buddies, was in here nearly a month ago for a broken arm. And if I’m right, she was his nurse as well. We tried for weeks to get him to ask her out, but he never got enough balls to do it, and man, did he have it bad for her too.

She hesitates a second, glancing at the instructions in my hand, and then timidly, she meets my eyes. "Do—do you have any questions?"

Yeah, which should I take, Tylenol or Ibuprofen? I already know the answer. She’ll give me the rundown on all the dos and don’ts—don’t drink alcohol if I’m taking the acetaminophen and the Ibuprofen can cause kidney damage and if I have any allergies to aspirin and the list goes on and on. I quirk a smile at her, just to let her know I get it. Her hand shakes faintly as she offers me a pen to sign the top copy.

I sit up and sign it, rubbing my chin. I watch as she quickly tears off my copy and hands it to me. I left my number… She shakes her head, correcting herself, and says, "I mean, the doctor’s number is listed at the top, in case you need anything else." The next thing I know, her face is flushed the brightest of reds as she hightails it out of the room.

I laugh inside. It never gets old. My smile fades when I spot the older nurse striding in with my mom and a wheelchair. I instantly ease off the bed, holding up my hands as I protest, Yeah, I really don’t think I’m going to need that.

I’m sorry, Mr. Colton, but it’s hospital policy—

I walk steadily toward them and interrupt her speech about hospital rules and regulations. There’s no way with half the town outside. I’m parading out of here in a wheelchair. Look, I get it. I really do, but you think this is really needed? I mean, look at me. I lift my arms out wide and turn around slowly to show I’m fully capable of walking right out of here on my own two feet. Facing the nurse eye to eye, I add, Besides, you have two of the best lawyers in town to verify my wellbeing. I take the nurse by the hand and start dancing with her and joke, "Unless…would you rather we dance out of here?"

She giggles and swats me away in fun as she agrees. Go on, but don’t overdo it, Marcus, she advises and smiles at my mom.

Thank you, Nadine, Mom stiffly but politely acknowledges her before we head out. I’ll be the first one to say it. My mother is a prude. I’ve only seen her laugh a hand full of times. Truly, with tears in her eyes, laugh. And it was always at some affair, a celebration of some type for the single simple reason that she had won a major case. Her true joy in life isn’t family. It’s victory. But you see, it’s not her victory for tonight, her triumph, it’s mine.

I can see the entire football team through the spotless double glass doors of the waiting room. The second I walk in, I’m bombarded with high fives and fist bumps. Through the chaos, I glance up and spot coach Ridel standing off to the side. He tips his cap in my direction and sends an approving two-finger wave. He’s one of those guys that would never voice it, never be overly animated about anything, but when he does give you one of those waves just like he did a moment ago. Well then, you know you did something extraordinary.

The huddle of teammates breaks simultaneously apart as she sashays her way toward me. Her long platinum blonde hair bounces with every step, among other things. And when she reaches me, she practically knocks me down as she swings her arms possessively around my neck. Squeezing us together, she dramatically publicizes to not only me but to every man, woman, and child within the waiting room, Marcus…I’m so, so glad you’re okay!

I stare into her striking rich brown eyes. My girlfriend. She’s one in a million. Every guy here would love to do her or just be in the same vicinity as her. She’s a true natural blonde, five, seven. Slim and lean, but with all the right curves. She perfectly fits her unanimous secretly nominated nickname. Ice Princess. A bitch when she wants to be and proudly displays her wealth to all. It’s no wonder she’s been head cheerleader for all these years because no one dares to defy her. But, with all the flawlessness through her glamorous looks, charm, and talent and every guy here would think I’m absolutely nuts. The thing is…I cannot figure out— what am I doing with her?

She flings some loose strands from her glistening chignon-styled hair over her shoulder, just like she did when I first met her. We were ordinary kids back then, neighbors actually. My parents and I had just recently moved across town to a larger house and, ironically, a smaller backyard. My parents had become less frugal and decided to have the old house renovated. And I had just enrolled in a new primary school, not really knowing anyone, I kept to myself for a few weeks around the neighborhood, but then, I collided, literally, with Kelly Brickson.

I was riding my bike late one evening, on a humid dusky summer night—probably—no, probably isn’t the word I should use—definitely a little too fast—down a narrow-paved sidewalk along my block when she came out of nowhere on her bright pink princess bike. I came out of the deal without a scratch, but Kelly fractured her wrist in three different places. Needless to say, my mom and I took her to the nearest hospital, which happens to be the exact same one I’m currently standing in right now.

I comb my hand through my spiky blond hair and send her a reassuring smile. I think I’ll live. Besides, I’ve been through worse. She tugs on me deliberately and crushes our lips together, and the room becomes nothing but an uproar of enthusiastic, favorable cheers.

Chapter 2

Lessons in Love

Several long winter weeks have passed, and I’m pacing back and forth in my bedroom like I’ve drunk forty cups of coffee, rubbing my temples. "So, I’m in love with Kelly? I can’t remember if I was in love with her before getting hit. And, I’m not sure about it now. She’s a—I don’t know how to put it, guys."

You don’t know? Dillon questions as he tosses the football across the room. Dude. Are you nuts? She’s like the hottest girl in school. You’ve been dating her for months now.

Yeah, I know. I get that… it’s just something’s not right, I say.

Monte catches the ball and throws it back to Dillon. What’s not right, man? You have everything a guy could want. He soberly points out. "You could stand on top of a mountain and shout, ‘I’m the king of the fucking world,’ and for the most part, it’s true. So, I don’t know what you’re complaining and bitching about. You’re popular, sailing through all your classes, dating the girl of every man’s dream, and you’re not all that bad looking, not that I’d date you. No offense, Marc. Just stating the facts."

I sit on the edge of the bed and run my hands through my hair. Okay, so, tell me this. Why is it when I look at her, I just see the girl next door, someone I grew up with, someone I know everything about but none of it intrigues me?

Dillon leans over and offers, Look, just give it some time. Let’s hope your concussion hasn’t turned you into some deep philosopher like Aristotle or Eminem. He stands and flings the football to me as he says, We’ll see ya tomorrow, man. Only six more weeks of Hutchington High, and we’re out of here. A little Montana wilderness will do you some good.

Yeah, maybe you’re right, I reply as they walk out. Going to prom with Kelly was a living hell. Between my mom and her, I don’t think I want to go to another one again. It gave me a huge insight into what our future would be like. My mother— adopted mother, that is, on the one hand, can be overbearing and commanding eighty-eight percent of the time. But when she’s around Kelly, she’s even more obsessing. It’s nothing like prepping for a game. It’s more like she’s prepping me for the big day, marriage. And that is something I’m not ready to think about.

Especially since the dreams came, the first night I came home from the hospital, I started dreaming. And not just a conventional, run-of-the-mill type dream. The usual football, sex, standing stark naked in front of the class while reading an essay, maybe not in that order, but that’s basically what my dreams were before her. I’m entirely someplace else, in a world I know nothing of, but I hunger to see every night. And every morning, it’s the same thing. I wake up sweating like I ran five miles in thirty seconds. My heart beats right along with my fading, haunting memories from the dream.

It’s actually kind of refreshing to have these kinds of dreams because they were nothing but nightmares when I was younger. An ocean of shattered glass, livid fire blazing all around me, and then coils of ever black smoke mounting from a mangled car. Later, when I was older, I was told my birth parents were killed in a tragic car accident. I don’t remember them at all, but my adopted dad said he acquired one thing from the wreckage, the only thing that was left of them. A unique ring which I have sealed inside a small box inside my closet.

Marcus, did you return Kelly’s call?

No, Mom. I haven’t had the chance to call her back, I reply, dragging out old gym clothes from the backseat of my Mustang. I avoid eye contact because I’m not in the mood for this conversation. I talked with Kelly six times yesterday, and the day before, it was double that; however short the conversation was, it was still an effort to communicate. So, Mom, when’s your next business trip?

Marcus, I recognize that tone. Look, I see no harm in you giving Kelly some of your time. School’s almost out and you want to spend time with your friends as well. But you really need to think about your relationship with Kelly. You know that, right?

Yeah, Mom. And I have been thinking about it.

Good, then be the exemplary, honest guy we all know that you are and call Kelly back. Before she and her family arrive this evening, she announces.

What? I practically crack my head on the chrome trim of the headliner, I can’t afford another concussion, but maybe I can and forget this whole Kelly thing that’s consuming my life right now. Before I have a chance to spout out my refusal, my mother is already across the driveway. The front door closes behind her without another word.

To keep my mind off the main topic, which is who’s coming over for dinner, I’m cooking—cooking like a man on a mission. Tonight is my night to find out more about Kelly instead of how virtuous she is in bed. I want to know how merciful she is when things don’t always go her way. She hates fish, Bass, Salmon, Catfish, and even ginger glazed Mahi Mahi, which I’m serving tonight.

The doorbell chimes precisely at 7:00 p.m., and the Brickson family enters our home. My mom and dad have this rapport with them. Kelly’s father owns Brickson real estate, and my dad buys all his property from him. And as for Kelly’s brother, Derek, who is eleven, is the only one I truly enjoy hanging out with. Before Kelly and I started dating, and sex joined our long-standing relationship, she was a lot like her brother. Not pompous and needy, but once she realized I’m a one-woman kinda guy, she has no problem showing me her true colors. Would I say she loves me? Well… I think it’s hard for her to love anyone outside of her universe of one.

Hey, Marc! Derek greets me as I take a seat.

Hey yourself, I haven’t seen you around, I reply and chug down a glass of water.

Maybe you would if you came outside sometime. Instead of hiding in your room trying to avoid my sister, he retorts.

I cough in my drink at his wisecrack and respond, Shut up, Sherlock. He’s like a brother, someone I could always connect with. Plus, he’s just a good kid all the way around, got a good look on life. He sees life with a simple clarity that I’m sure most psychics couldn’t come close to. Hey, I know next month you’re having a birthday.

Yeah, and I’m having this epic party. Wanna know where it’s going to be?

Ah…your house? I reply.

No…Marc. My mom wants to have it at this Bounce R Us place. That’s disturbing, Marc. Man… not cool.

Well, if you don’t want to do that, then what do you want to do? I ask.

Honestly? I wanna go hang out with you and the All-State football team. He discreetly holds the back of his hand to the side of his mouth and whispers, And check out some babes.

I bust out laughing and wipe off my mouth. It’s a good thing I just swallowed the last of my drink; otherwise, it would be everywhere. And then I remember I have something for him. I lean over on the table and point at him. Hey, I’ve got something for you. It’s not a present or anything, just something I want you to have. I’ll grab it for you before you go, okay? He smiles like a kid in a candy store. Kelly and my mom eventually wander in, and dinner is served.

I watch Kelly from the corner of my eye, watching as she picks at her fish fillets and asparagus. The repulsed expression on her face says it all. She glances around the dining table like she’s scavenging for something else to feast on. Quietly, I inch closer to her and ask, Everything okay?

Uh huh… she mumbles and daintily wipes the corner of her thin-lined lips.

But you haven’t touched any of your food yet, I state, knowing full well why.

She picks up her fork and makes another attempt at the fish but her mouth curls upward. She can’t do it, and then she bluntly asks, Did you make this?

I nod, and just as my mouth parts to say what I truly want to say, my mother declares, Yes, he did. Isn’t it just delicious? Mom studies Kelly’s untouched plate and asks, Kelly are you feeling okay, honey?

No, I don’t think so, Mrs. Colton. I’m so sorry. I was feeling perfectly fine earlier. I don’t know what it could be.

Would you prefer something else prepared, Kelly? Lacey, Gary, does the food suit you? My dictative mother questions. What is this? Playing on the offensive team tonight? I know my mom, and I know her tactics. She wants Kelly and her family confident that Kelly and I are on the up and up. She and I are the perfect couple. I mean, everyone thinks she’s the textbook good girl, and I’m the right guy for her—everyone but me.

Well, I personally believe Marc did a fantastic job on our dinner tonight, Gary, Kelly’s dad, states with conviction. Don’t you, Lacey? I catch the little encouraging nudge he gives his wife sitting next to him. With his subtle urging, she eagerly agrees.

You did, Marc, she admits as she lays her napkin down. So…what do you have planned for our dessert?

Kelly grips my hand and penetrates me with her best innocent look, and says, Marcus, please don’t go through any more trouble for me. I promise I will eat whatever you bring out next. Her over-the-top pitch seems to have everyone at the table sufficed, and I can’t think of anything else to say except.

Great.

Dad meets me in the kitchen, and I already feel the let’s-kick-some-ideas-around counsel session coming. He pours himself another glass of white wine, and I chug down another glass of water. Why does it seem like it’s suddenly hot in here?

So…son, dinner was good, could have been better. Kelly wasn’t too impressed, but her parents, on the other hand, seemed pleased.

Yeah, I do believe Derek liked it, though. I don’t think they feed him at home. Did you see how fast he scarfed down his food? I joke and eye dad.

He breaks his stern expression and smiles over at me. Yeah, he definitely wolfed it down. Look, um… Marcus, your mother, and I have a proposition for you and Kelly.

I feel like someone just punched me in the gut. I don’t know where this is going, and I really don’t care. Because when he starts off a conversation with, ‘Look, Marcus…’ it’s not good. There’s something he wants, something he expects from me, and he’s the one person I hate to let down.

"Okay…what is it?" I ask guardedly.

He nods his head toward the dining room and prompts, Come on, let’s get back and join everyone while we have dessert. So, we can discuss it in there. Now, I know this is bad. When in the hell did this situation become so out of control?

I enter the room just as Mom says, In fact, when we go to Maui, we would like to invite Kelly along. It will be a great family getaway.

This night keeps getting better and better. I set Kelly’s dish in front of her and sit. Before I reflect consciously over my words, I address my mom, Mom? Could I have a word with you in the other room? I clamp my mouth shut after that, it takes a lot to piss me off, and this is my limit. No one talked to me about this. No one even remotely cared if this was something I wanted to do. Mom and dad hardly ever take a vacation, let alone together, as a family. And now, they want to invite Kelly along for the ride?

Marcus, your dad and I have scheduled some time off together this year and thought this would be ideal. You, Kelly, and Maui, you would love it, she states matter of factly and calmly shaves off a spoonful of her dessert. The frozen custard shapes perfectly to the spoon like an ad for the Food Network. Making me think this was all planned, and if I don’t say or do something, Kelly and I will be wearing wedding rings before we even graduate fuckin’ high school.

I stand, shove my chair in and walk out of the house. Un-fucking-believable. Everyone leaves me alone for a least a whole hour until Kelly saunters up, a glass oval dish in hand. She gently leans her hip against my car.

Marc?

Yeah?

Why are you so pissed? Is it me? She stares down at me while I’m sitting in my driver’s seat. I note her leaning in, giving the picture-perfect shot of her breasts. Her big brown eyes glaze over like she’s about cry. She’s always had a way about her that could make a stone-cold killer flinch with guilt.

No, Kelly. Look, you know that every year, right after our school year, the guys and I all head out to go camping. And…I’m not going to break this tradition we do, not for my Mother or my dad—

Or me, she says quietly.

I direct my glare toward the garage doors and grip the steering wheel tighter. I can’t, Kelly, I just can’t. I allow my eyes to meet hers and watch as she sucks the custard sinfully off the spoon.

Want some?

I shake my head and soberly reply, No, not in the mood.

Oh, c’mon Marc, you owe me. I promised you I would eat whatever you brought out, and just so you’ll know for future reference, I despise seafood and eggs. And this… she animatedly taps the spoon along the rim of the dish and continues, Has egg yolks in it, doesn’t it?

I hide my grin and admit, It might. I thought you had said once eggs give you the hives.

She slides another spoonful between her pink pouty lips and states, They do. Marcus, don’t you see…I love you. I love you so much that I’m willing to eat something that could cause me to have anaphylactic shock.

Kelly?

Yeah?

I’ve seen you eat eggs every morning at school when we were kids. Wanna explain that one to me?

She does her famous hair fling again, the one I know all too well, which is either A: She’s trying to distract you, showing you how drop-dead beautiful she is, in hopes, you don’t see right through her lie, or it’s B: She’s flirting, horny, and wanting to get laid. I’m going with A. It’s plain and simple, a distraction.

She lets out a girlish giggle and draws out my name. "Marcus…" With a slight, sexy lift from her shoulder, she moves in for the kill and presses her sweet tasting lips against mine. What can I say, I’m a guy, and without putting too much thought into it, I mean, technically, she’s still my girlfriend. I pull back first and lick the honey and sugary substance from my lips.

I’m still not going to Maui, I declare brazenly, waiting for any given second for her to dump the remaining custard on me, but instead, she saunters back the way she came. Swaying her hips back and forth, another ploy of hers. She shouts over her shoulder, Fine, you can tell your parents then.

As Kelly and her family are leaving for the night, I make sure I give Derek the game ball, the championship football. It’s the one I threw and wound up getting knocked out for. I’ve never seen his eyes light up like that before. He’s been my number one fan, been to every game I played in and sported my number every chance he could. The first few summers, I’d spend hours over at their house, playing tag football with him. Teaching him everything I knew about the pigskin sport. What started out as a favorite pastime for me and my dad turned out to be mine and Derek’s.

He’s the younger brother I’ve never had. I playfully ruffle his scruffy blond hair as he holds the ball like it’s made out of gold—a solid minute and a half pass between us without uttering a single syllable. You’re speechlessness says a lot. So…I’m going out on a limb here and guess that you like it?

"Ah…yeah! This is…this is…incredible, Marc!"

That’s good cause you had me a little concerned there for a second, with all that eye-popping and mouth drooling going on, I tease him.

"Pfft, what are you talking about, dude? I was just trying not to cuss in front of my parents."

What?

Yeah, he whispers, "This is fucking amazing."

I laugh at his rebel ways. He pretends to rub his chin, pondering his next deep, philosophical words. He lets another second or two slide by, and then he bats his lashes and mocks, Thank you, Marcus. He utilizes his high-pitched tone, sounding girly. And I get it loud and clear that he’s imitating his sister.

I shove good-humoredly on his shoulder and warn, Get on out of here.

He tosses the ball to me and asks, with all joking aside, Do you think you’ll play your senior year? I walk with him to their car, peering up to the sky as if it held all the answers for me. Finally, I stop and narrow my eyes on him.

I’m not sure, I feel kinda—

You feel different, don’t you?

I shrug. Yeah, I do.

I know, I see it…

See what? I ask.

The change in you, and you know something else?

What’s that?

You don’t really love her, he states it so evenly and profoundly. He leans his back on the side of the passenger’s door. He silently observes the multiple expressions that wash over my face, surprise, intrigue, and submission.

You mean, Kelly?

His eyebrow quirks up, and he practically laughs. Ah…yeah, who else would I be talking about, your mom?

I see in his eyes the truth that I’ve been struggling with, why things don’t feel right. He’s as right as rain. I don’t love her, and it took Derek’s words to bring it a little more to the surface for me. I shut the door to their car after he gets in. I’ll swing by next week. We can go grab some pizza or something, okay?

Sure, Marc. That’d be awesome!

Cool? I question.

Cool.

Kelly strolls idly up, grips the front of my button-down shirt, and pulls us closer together. She softly pecks on my lips once and then twice and says in a seductive tone, I’ll see you later. Call me before you fall asleep, okay?

Chapter 3

The Montana Wilderness

It’s past midnight, and I just ended the call with Kelly. This has been our nightly routine for the last three weeks. If I don’t call her back, she’s knocking at my door. And apparently, it doesn’t matter what time it is with her. Do you know how freaky it is just to be dozing off to sleep and happen to see her figure standing outside my glass door? Not good. Especially when I begin to have these dreams.

I fall asleep watching the way the clouds drift by the moon. One moment I’m lying in bed, and the next, I’m standing in a wasteland. Everything is smoky grey and dark until I start to walk through it. The mist parts, and I see her, the girl. She’s definitely not