I never wanted this to happen, but you left me no choice. You ruined everything.
The house had smelled of smoke. I can still taste it on my tongue.
Who did she love? Did my dad know the man? If she loved another man, why did she marry my father and have a child with him?
Why stay?
My nails dig into my palms, and my head spins. The roar of the crowd is quiet compared to my own thoughts.
Aside from my father, the only other man I ever saw around my mother was the man from the hotel, and I never got a look at his face. Was he the person my mother was referring to?
If so…who the hell is he?
Brax is still digging into why Clarissa Rose is here. I haven’t heard from him in a while, and it gnaws at me. The unease that comes from his silence tells me he’s keeping secrets, but I can’t help but think it’s for the right reasons.
I haven’t plucked up the courage to talk to Bella yet either, despite encouragement from Chase and Griff. And then there’s The Octopus situation. I still have no clue why he came for me that night.
I shove my thoughts into a box and rise to my feet. The roar of the crowd claws at my ears, and for a moment, I allow myself to breathe in the lights and cheer—a thrilling kind of chaos as The Flying Tornadoes make their way onto California’s ice.
The atmosphere is electric. Cold air rolls off the rink and chills my cheeks, grounding me for the briefest moment.
My first in-person away game has my body humming with every hand that slams against the plexiglass.
“Hey, you okay?” Valerie says, leaning closer.
“Yeah.” I grin, eyes wide. “Just… Wow.”
She laughs. “Yeah. It’s a different kind of wild.”
The puck drops.
We win the face-off.
Madness flares.
Skates cut the ice, sticks clash, bodies slam into the boards, and I’m on my feet for every second of it, my lungs burning with every cheer.
Chase moves with power and precision, weaving through the players like he knows the play before it even happens.
Oliver slams the puck into the back of the net.
California fans boo, but there are a few Tornadoes scattered throughout the stadium, Valerie and I included.
I bite my nails, barely breathing when a player rushes Chase. I don’t know whether to wince or cheer when Chase flicks the puck with ease into the net, setting off the buzzer, only to be torpedoed before he can celebrate with his team.
Another goal. Another slam.
My stomach flips, and my hands fly to my mouth as Logan’s shoved into the boards. The crunch makes me flinch. He doesn’t cry out, but I cover my eyes, still hearing the thud of his body against the rink.
California scores twice after that.
I groan into my hands, wanting to yell out my annoyance but decide it’s best I avoid death glares from the fans decked out in red and black around me.
“Dirty cheats,” I hiss under my breath when California gets a hooking penalty. Valerie chuckles beside me.
Griff flies down the ice on a breakaway. He scores, then he’s slammed into the boards. He skates off, grimacing. California receives a major penalty for roughing, and Griff doesn’t come back.
“Thirty seconds left,” Valerie says. And it’s the longest thirty seconds of my life. We score and the boys collide into each other.
