Find Me on the Ice

Copyright © 2023 by Pru SchuylerAll rights reserved. Visit my website at pruschuylerauthor.comCover Designer: Murphy RaeEditor and Interior Designer: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.com No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. For anyone who has ever been forced to question their own thoughts and mind because of some abusive, narcissistic asshole. You are incredible, and I’m so proud of you. Contents Playlist Trigger Warnings 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 Epilogue Acknowledgments About the Author Other Books by Pru Schuyler Playlist “Mr. Forgettable” by David Kushner “If You’re Gonna Lie” by Fletcher “Bells in Santa Fe” by Halsey “Burn” by David Kushner “Surrender” by Natalie Taylor “If I Could” by Brynn Cartelli “Talking Body (The Young Professionals Remix)” by Tove Lo “Long Sleeves” by Gracie Abrams “stuck in my head” by BLÜ EYES “One Foot in Front of the Other” by Griff “Liberated” by Britton “Hurricane” by Halsey “Can We Kiss Forever?” by Kina, featuring Adriana Proenza “I Lost Myself” by MUNN “Lie About You” by OSTON “It’ll Be Okay” by Rachel Grae “I Need You to Hate Me (Piano Version)” by JC Stewart “Always Almost” by Rosie Darling “Afraid of the Dark” by EZI “Lay by Me” by Ruben “The Look” by Ali Gatie, featuring Kehlani “On the Go” by Bebe Rexha, featuring Pink Sweat$ and Lunay “Different” by Maggie Lindemann “Dancing with Your Ghost” by Sasha Alex Sloan “In the End (Mellen Gi Remix)” by Tommee Profitt, featuring Fleurie and Mellen Gi “Here’s Your Perfect” by Jamie Miller Trigger Warnings Domestic violence (not between main characters) Physical assault Physical abuse Graphic violence Graphic sexual scenes Depictions of non-sexual child abuse Murder (not of a main character) 1 Nikki Reality is a devil. No one can outrun it. It always catches up to you. “Nikki? Nikki?” a young man calls from behind the counter, scanning the small crowd waiting for their orders. My eyes read his name tag—Jeff. I wonder what Jeff’s life is like. Does he have a family? A girlfriend? A boyfriend? Does he ski? Does he secretly have an obsession with serial killers? Does he— “Nikki?” he calls out once more before my brain finally registers the name. You would think that after all this time, I would be better at responding to that name, but here I am, looking like an idiot as I approach the counter. Grabbing the pizza from Jeff, I offer a smile that I’m sure shows my embarrassment. But he brushes me off without a glance or a word, grabbing the next order to hand out. Everyone else might be offended or upset to be forgotten so easily, but not me, never me. A ghost is what I became all those years ago and a ghost I will remain. Hiding in the background is a skill that I acquired after three years of practice. And I walk out of the pizza parlor with the same permanent sinking feeling that lives in my gut, one that will stay with me until the day I die. Or the day he does. Because every face has his eyes. Every shadow has his profile, his figure. Every laugh is an echo of the past. Every scream is my voice, and every minute of my future is stolen. One day, no matter how hard I resist, death will come, and he won’t come knocking. He will come with rage and fury that would make the Devil jealous, and when he sees fit, he will kill me and bottle up my screams as a keepsake. My feet carry me out of the building in precise steps, one after the other. Taking a deep breath, I turn toward my shop, Nikki’s Coffee. My free hand slips into my pocket and grabs my keys, fiddling until it wraps around the one I need. As I approach the door, my phone starts ringing, and I slide the key into the top dead bolt and unlock it, ignoring the sound going off in my pocket. I repeat the same steps on the next two dead bolts and let myself inside. My phone quiets at the same time the door seals shut. Silence envelops me, calm, reassuring, deafening silence. Most people can’t stand it. They have to sleep with a TV on, a radio on. They have to have some form of buzzing around them to drown out their thoughts. It gives them a sense of comfort. But this is my comfort. Silence is my friend. It protects me. I walk toward the restrooms and unlock the door to my loft, pulling out my phone. Chloe’s name pops up next to Missed Call. Chloe is my best friend, my little trust fund baby, who moonlights as my hero. I got out of Oregon as fast as I possibly could. I drove to what I thought would be the quietest town I could get to at that day and time. I watched her enter her house alone and thought she might be able to point me to the homeless shelter or at least give me a place to crash for the night. But when I showed up on her doorstep, quite literally, bruised black and blue, she didn’t bat an eye, and she immediately took me under her wing. She seemed to sense my fear and desperation, and she saved me. She is the sole reason for me being where I am right now, both