It’s nearing the end of the third period, the game is tied two to two, and I’ve got a goal and an assist. The game has gotten chippy—I took a hard one against the boards last shift. Carson just got tossed to the ice in front of our net by my teammate, Schmitty.
We’re at the face-off circle when Schmitty decides to try to get a rise out of Carson. “Hey Wilder, your sister looks like she’s ready for a wild night. Feel free to let her know she can get a ride home from me tonight. Maybe she can take me for a ride later.”
Fucker. Doesn’t he know about my history with Kenna? Instead of just getting in Carson’s head, he’s fucking with mine too.
“That’s enough,” I bark at him.
Just when I get Schmitty to shut the hell up, one of Carson’s teammates, Ian Nelson, decides to clip the last thread of patience I had for tonight.
“Sorry, Schmitty. She’s rooming with me tonight.” Then he looks right at me, smirking as he positions himself for the face-off.
My skin feels like it’ll burst at the seams if I don’t expel this rage inside of me.
Nelson lowers his voice so only I can hear, “I should thank you, Turner. Chicks do the hottest things when they’re a little broken.”
I clench my jaw so hard I think I’ll crack a tooth.
“And you didn’t just break her a little. You fucked her pretty little heart up, just like I plan to do to her pussy—”
Before he can finish, I drop my gloves, grab his jersey, and start throwing blows to his head. His helmet comes off after I connect with the side of his head the second time.
Nelson lays a few on me before my fist connects with his nose. I feel his bones crunch beneath my knuckles. Nelson falls back on his ass, cradling his face as blood seeps through his hands onto the ice. He looks up at me, and the sadistic fucker must have a death wish because he says, “I can’t wait for her to kiss it all better.”
I lunge toward him, ready to go again, but I’m pulled back by Emmett. “Get in the locker room, G. You’re done.” He’s right. Fighting in college hockey is frowned upon and heavily penalized, which means it’s not surprising when I’m ejected from the game and told I will have to sit for the next one.
What the fuck did I just do? I’m our team’s leading scorer, and the game is tied with only a few minutes left.
After I got a verbal ass-kicking from Coach, I put my headphones in, grabbed my shit from my locker stall, and stormed out of the locker room.
Ignoring the fans in the hallway, I walk straight to the player exit. Just when I’m about to round the corner, someone yanks my elbow.
Taking out my AirPods, I turn, about to tell whoever it is to fuck off.
But when I fully turn, I’m met with Kenna’s mesmerizing, pleading eyes. “Griffin, can we please go somewhere to talk? There’s something we need to discuss.”
My heart sinks at the sound of her voice. I’ve missed her so fucking much. But instead of telling her that, my response comes out cold and rigid. “I have nothing to say to you, McKenna. You need to walk away. Get on the next plane out and go back to Minnesota.”
“I can’t go back without having this conversation with you. Please,” she begs, her eyes brimming with tears. I soften when I see the emotion on her face.
Seeing Kenna in front of me—looking so beautiful it hurts—is messing with my intentions.
You can’t be with her.
I’m about to say fuck it and give in when a familiar and very unwelcome voice interrupts, “Oh my gosh. Desperate much? He said he doesn’t want you. Get over it and move on.” Emily, my ex, slinks her arm through mine. I can feel her claws grip me through my wool dress coat.
Fuck, this looks bad. I know it does.
Kenna doesn’t say anything, but the look of agony on her face hits me like an ax through the chest. Then, it dawns on me that maybe this is what she needs to see. I need to hurt her now, make her understand that it’s done between the two of us. That way, she can move on, and I don’t have to ever feel the pain that comes with seeing her again. I’d rather feel the emptiness from her absence in my life than the pain and anger that seeing her brings.
Pain because I miss her with every breath I take. She very well may be the oxygen I need to survive.
Anger because I hate myself for pushing her away, and her presence is enough to bring me to my knees.
Hurting her is the only way she’ll finally cut ties with me. It’s what’s best for her.
I remove my arm from Emily’s grasp and wrap my arm around her shoulders instead.
Kenna visibly flinches at my gesture. I know what she’s thinking. The betrayal is written all over her face.
