I feel cold.
Alone.
And maybe…
A little broken.
Thirty-Four
Rhodes
I playlike a man looking for a fight.
Which, to be fair, I am.
Just not with the other team.
With myself.
With every thought in my head.
With the image of Chloe crying into her pillow.
With the excitement in Finn’s voice fading after I snapped at her.
With the memory of how fucking empty my bed felt sleeping without her just foronenight.
With the truth…that I should have already broken things off.
But was too much of a fucking coward to do it.
I wanted a little more time, a few more stolen moments.
I didn’t get those either.
Because I’m a little bitch.
I slam my fist into the asshole’s face, taking my rage out on Lex Ambrose because he clipped Rome with a cheap shot, because he’s a motherfucker through and through, because…
It’s easier to lose myself in my anger instead of my grief.
It’s simpler.
Cleaner than the truth—which is that I’m about to blow up the best thing in my life because…
Fuck, why am I doing it again?
I grunt when Lex lashes out, his fist glancing off my jaw.
Pain sears through my face but it’s negligible to the agony that’s churning through my insides.
I shove him backwards, sending him to the ice, landing one good right hook before the linesmen are pulling me off.
He’s cursing and spitting, his nose dripping blood.
Or maybe that’s mine.
But I can’t find a fuck to give about it. Because?—
