Page 1 of Final Score

CHAPTER 1

Today has been hell. A hand-crafted version of purgatory, wrapped in a bow, addressed to Kat Townsend. Is it possible to return to a gift back to the universe? I would have paid expedited shipping if it was. The depressing thing was, it would have been comical if it hadn’t been so heartbreakingly stupid.

It started this morning when I woke up to a text from my boyfriend Noah asking me not to go to his hockey game. I should be used to this request by now. After four years of dating, it’s always the same excuse. Noah gets too distracted when I’m there. Implying that he focuses on anything other than what’s going on in front of him when he’s on the ice. In years previous, I played the good, attentive girlfriend staying at home until the game was over. Not this time.

Every relationship has its issues, and mine isn’t without its faults. Noah and I had been high school sweethearts. Young and naive to what a real relationship looked like. We met right when I moved to Seattle, and I thought I’d found my prince.

I had even followed Noah to Seattle University after finding out he had received a hockey scholarship there. It helped that SU had the best nursing program in the state, but he was a big part of my decision making even then.

During our freshman and sophomore years of college, we became inseparable. We spent every moment together that wasn’t filled with classes or hockey. There weren’t many moments in between, but we made the most of what we had. Until the beginning of this year. When things had changed. Noah became distant, agitated, and cocky. His personality doing a complete 180, until I didn’t even recognize anymore.

I knew there was an ulterior motive behind his words. This time felt different. It didn’t help that my best friend, Fallon, had been begging me to dump Noah for months. Only, affirming my fears that something was off. If I was a betting woman, I’d say my boyfriend was cheating. A thought that would have never crossed my mind six months prior.

To make my morning worse, I burnt my toast for breakfast and slipped on the wet bathroom floor after stepping out of the shower. Collecting my emotions and the last string of my sanity, I left for the hockey game I wasn’t supposed to be at.

Standing in the back hallway of Northridge Stadium, I wished I was anywhere else. NU was a historic campus built in the early 1900s, nestled among the trees at the edge of the waterline. The tall stone buildings were full of long forgotten hallways and ornate architectural elements.

Fallon lovingly called it the American version of Hogwarts. While the buildings were dated past their prime, the campus was equipped with the latest technology, causing a jarring juxtaposition between two separate eras.

Fluorescent lighting buzzed over my head as I stood frozen to the floor. I leaned against the cool, grey tiled wall for support. Knowing the freezing temperature inside the stadium, wasn’t the cause of my immobility.

I watched in slow motion as another girl ran full speed down the hallway, squealing like a banshee before launching herself into my boyfriend’s arms. My blood felt as though it had been replaced with shards of glass. Each heartbeat causing a deeper cut internally.

The first stage of grief is denial.

That girl could have been a friend. After all, I was never the kind of girlfriend who insisted her man couldn’t have friends of the opposite sex. I was over-reacting. Letting my imagination and anxiety get the best of me. That had to be it.

The second stage is anger.

My fist curled around the brown leather handle of my purse, knuckles white, as I surveyed the pair across the room. She was overly friendly. Obnoxiously so. Running a perfectly manicured hand across Noah’s jersey. Caressing the Captain insignia, possessively. He made no attempts to fight her off. As he draped an arm around her petite frame, eyes glowing as he laughed at something she said.

I skipped the bargaining and depression stage, knowing those would come later. The final stage acceptance wasn’t even on the horizon.

My soon to be ex-boyfriend had a type. I watched, remaining un-seen, as they began showing an uncomfortable amount of PDA. This woman could have been my twin.

I stood next to the home team’s locker room. Hidden by a small group of players and coaching staff, who were now casting sideways glances at the peep show down the hall. Ducking further behind a tall group of men, I weighed my options.

One walk away. Deal with the problem in private. Two, rip it off like a bandage and deal with it now.

I almost chose the first option. I promise, I thought about it... for half a second. Until I heard the man in front of me make a vulgar comment about Noah and his mystery girl continuing their show.

Now my problem would be everyone’s problem.

Before I knew it, I was steam rolling past a group of hockey players, hitting one in the shoulder as I passed. Not bothering to apologize, I stepped into the center of the hall, my eyes zeroing in on Noah. Neither of the pair heard me approach, lost in their own little world. A world that used to be mine.

If the elephant in the room wasn’t already big enough, I saw the lightbulbs flashing at the end of the hall. The other team’s players now realized who I was. I wondered if they put the pieces together from the look on my face, or from the stupid jersey I wore that felt like it weighed 100 lbs. An idiotic show of support, for a man who no longer bothered to spare my feelings.

“Noah.” The single word ripped raw and angry through my lungs.

Like an animal cornered in the face of a predator, he released his hold on the girl, and I watched as the blissful smile slide from his face. Paling, a grimace formed, as he turned to look in my direction. Was the sadness for my benefit, or because I had caught him cheating? Either way, it didn’t matter now.

Leaning back against the worn wall, Noah looked at me for the first time in months. “Kat.” He answered. The words falling from his lip’s barley above a whisper, as he tapped the pick of his skate against the floor. At least he had the decency to look remorseful.

“I thought you didn’t care enough to come to this game.” The mystery woman sneered. Flipping the blonde ringlet curls she hadn’t bothered to brush out over her shoulder.

She knew. She knew he had a girlfriend and still slept with him anyway. I knew Noah would have fans. Girls would want to be with him, and guys would want to be him. But I never expected this.

College girls were a different breed of horrible. Filling their prime years of beauty with men and booze. Never caring who they crossed if it meant they gained their desired result. Especially when it came to hockey players. I’m sure she hoped to sink her claws into one good enough to turn pro.