“Fuck you, Hunt,” he croaks, blood running from his nose and lips. “You’re a fucking psychopath.”
“Yeah, I am a fucking psychopath,” I coo, smirking through my chest-heaving breaths. “But you haven’t seen anything yet, asshole. Remember that.”
When I realize it’s Talmage and Huff dragging me outside, I know I’m in fucking trouble. I got kicked out of the last college I was at because of fighting, and part of the deal with coming here to play for NEU was that I had to be on my best behavior. Brody O’Brien and Cade Huff made it really fucking clear that they wouldn’t put up with my bullshit.
I wish I could say I’d take it back. But the truth is, he fucking deserved it.
No, he deserved way worse.
The September New England night air hits my face as Coach Huff pushes me forward. When I turn toward him and Coach Talmage, I’m not sure who’s more pissed until a vein in Huff’s forehead pops out. Even when we’re fucking up in practice, he never gets angry. But right now, he looks like he could kill me.
“What in the actual fuck, Hunt?” Tripp growls, dragging his hand through his hair. “The owner was kind enough to let us have this dinner at his restaurant because, you know, he’s a fucking sponsor for the team!” His voice continues to rise. “And you show your appreciation by smashing your teammate’s head off the fucking bar?”
“He deserved it,” I say coldly, and Cade’s face grows even angrier.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Hunt?” Huff barks, pacing around. “If Brody O’Brien hadn’t taken such a liking to you, you would never fucking play in a college arena again. Do you realize that?”
I look past them, staring out into absolutely nothing.
“My bad. Next time Leeman is talking about a girl the way he was, I won’t say a fucking thing,” I hiss through my teeth. “That what you want?”
When I look back at them, their expressions seem to soften a bit, and Huff drags a hand down his face.
“Fuck!” He kicks his shoe at the ground. “How the hell are we going to explain this to the athletic director, huh? You’re already on thin ice since getting transferred here.”
“I don’t know; maybe keep it a secret.” I shrug, attempting a grin, but when Tripp meets it with a death glare, I quickly turn my lips into a flat line.
“Both hockey teams and all staff are in there, dipshit,” Tripp grumbles. “Hell, it’s probably already on social media by now. Y’all fucked up, fighting in a public place at a fucking event.”
I ponder what to say. I know I need to tell them I’m sorry that I fucked up, even though I don’t regret it because Clark had no business talking about Isla like that. And as close as Cade is with Cam Hardy, I’d think he’d agree with me if I told him. But I’m not going to say that shit out loud to have it get back to her.
Just when I open my mouth to form my apology, the door swings open, and Cash rushes out.
“Before you punish Hunt, just know that I overheard what Leeman said, and that asshole deserved it,” Cash barks out, walking closer to us. “He was disrespecting Isla, just in case you need me to clear it up.”
Cade sighs deeply, looking at me. “It was Isla?” he utters, and I barely give him a nod, but that’s all the confirmation he needs. “Damn it,” he grumbles.
“Go back inside, Cash,” Tripp says to his stepson. “We appreciate you telling us that, but we’ve got this handled.”
Cash nods just before his eyes meet mine, and he walks back inside. Maybe Jameson was right. I guess he is a good guy. Hecould have not said anything, and yet he put himself in the middle to take my side.
“This doesn’t change the fact that you cannot go around fighting—” Cade starts to lecture me but is interrupted when, suddenly, Margo stalks out through the door with none other than Isla Hardy herself and a few others right on her heels.
“Say it again, bitch!” The words come from Isla in a roar, and her fists are clenched at her sides. “I fucking dare you to say that shit again right to my face instead of passing by my table.”
“What the fuck is going on with these kids tonight?” Tripp murmurs, barely audible. “Christ almighty.”
Isla is so mad that it’s almost like she doesn’t even see the three of us standing out here, watching it all go down. Cade steps forward, but before he can say anything, Margo swings around, standing toe to toe with Isla, only Margo’s got a solid half a foot on Isla’s height.
“What?” Margo cocks her head to the side. “To say that you’re lucky that your mother got knocked up in high school and latched on to Cam Hardy in college to be your daddy?” She glares down at Isla now, taunting her. “You are lucky. If you didn’t have his last name on your back, you wouldn’t be anything.”
Their chests heave, both looking like they’re seconds away from attacking.
“Girls, enough!” Cade yells, but no one even acknowledges him.
The look in Isla’s eye? I know that look. I felt that look minutes ago when I was inside the restaurant and Clark ran his mouth. She’s about to lose her shit and cross that line where there’s no return.
Who would have thought the princess herself had the same darkness in her that consumes me daily?
