Page 47 of Antidote

“Yep.” He says, shrugging. “He’s pretty and nice.”

“He has a boyfriend.” I smile. “James Murdock.”

I know damn well that James isn’t Ollie’s boyfriend—he’d be a dead man if he was—but confusing the shit out of Dylan is bringing me the joy I needed from this situation, even if I am suspended.

“Since when?” He asks, confusion marring his features. I grin. “He didn’t cheat, did he?”

“Nah.” I shake my head because if I knew one thing about Ollie, it was that he’s loyal. “It’s new.”

“Damn.” He shakes his head. “He moves fast.”

“Watch it,” I growl through gritted teeth. “You’re on thin ice.”

Dylan shrugs, “It’s a good thing I know how to skate.”

Everyone files out excitedly when the next period begins, ready to finish the game. I stay in the locker room though, not ready to go home. I’m going to hide in here for a while after the game ends, and then I’m going to shoot some pucks after the Zamboni cleans the ice. I don’t have it in me to go home yet. The last thing I want right now is to have to explain myself to Oliver when he confronts me about it—and I know he will. He’s never held back with me regarding how he thinks and feels, and I bet he has a lot of feelings right now.

Especially if he knows the reason why I started the fight.

I’ve been hiding in the shadows for about ten minutes, waiting for Hunter to notice me. I stuck around after the game, when I heard why he fought Dylan. Never in a million years would I have thought he’d be this jealous of someone else—or maybe I’m just lying to myself. He’s always been possessive of me. But seeing it in real-time? The way he punched Dylan repeatedly for calling me his boyfriend and talking about us fucking…it brought me a deep sense of accomplishment.

I can’t lie, this is what I’ve been waiting for since we became estranged. For a reaction—any reaction. And now that I have it, I wish it would happen again and again and again. I don’t want him to stop because even if it’s temporary, right now, I know he cares about me. Even if it’s just a little bit, he can’t even deny it at this point. His behavior speaks volumes on its own, no matter what he says. His words mean nothing to me right now.

The only problem with his little stunt is that he’s now suspended from two games. That may not seem like a lot to an outsider, but that’s two chances to be noticed by the NHL scouts, and I know that has to hurt. Playing professional hockey has always been Hunter’s dream, even if he doesn’t talk about it much. He confessed it to me one night when we were lying in my bed, whispering about the future. Hunter said he wanted to play for the Hurricanes so that he could stay close to me. I wonder if his dreams have changed. Now, he probably wants to be away from me. The other side of the country is probably still not far enough.

My dreams haven’t changed, but maybe I won’t stay in North Carolina. Especially if Hunter isn’t here. I’m still holding on to a tiny shred of hope that things will go back to the way they used to be once upon a time. That he will realize I still love him. Goddamn, I love him, and I want him back so bad it hurts.

For a while, I thought rehab would heal me, but man, was I ever wrong. Not only could I not be cured of my addiction to Oxy, but I definitely couldn’t be cured of my addiction to him. And I don’t think I’ll ever recover. There’s no program out there for pathetic lovesick people like me—and fuck, I’m still star-struck. If he knew the level of fucked up I am over him, he’d probably laugh and use it against me. Which is why I’ve been steering clear of him. So why the fuck am I here watching him like a stalker? Why do I feel the urge to get on the ice and go after him? To ask him why? Why did he beat someone up for me?

I watch Hunter shoot puck after puck into the net, his back to me. I’m standing behind him now, having abandoned the shadows. The doors are open, and I have the sudden urge to step onto the ice, even if it’s with no skates. It’s been a while since I helped him practice, at least three years, but I’d do anything for an ounce of his attention right now.

“I can feel you there,” Hunter murmurs, his voice echoing. “Why are you here? Came to gloat?”

“Why would you think that?” I ask him, my brows furrowing in confusion. I could never be happy about his failures or his unhappiness. In fact, it brings me pain to know that he’s going to miss out on something so important to him. Even if that was at the expense of my validation.

“I’m suspended, and it’s your fault.” He chuckles, and it brings goosebumps to my skin even though I’m wearing a thick jacket. It’s always cold in this place, so I don’t know how the hell he’s only wearing base layers right now. He’s probably used to it, considering he spends half of his time in this place. “You happy now?”

“My fault?” I scoff. “I didn’t ask you to get into that fight. You didn’t have to defend my honor.”

“Defend your honor?” He laughs. “There’s nothing honorable about someone who lets everyone stick their dick inside of them.”

“So you’re slut shaming me?” I narrow my eyes at him, but he won’t turn around. “Why are you actually beating people up? Is your girlfriend not doing her job, and now you gotta take it out on everyone?”

Hunter’s shoulders tense, and this time, he turns around. “She’s not my girlfriend anymore,” he admits, and my stomach drops. This knowledge—he shouldn’t have said anything. Because now I’m gonna be all in my head about it. Why did they break up? “Did you really have to fuck my teammate?”

I bristle, and I don’t know how I felt bad for him initially, but now I’m just fucking angry. My hands shake, and I fist them at my sides. “I’m sorry that was so inconvenient for you,” I retort. “Next time, I’ll make sure you don’t know him.”

His nostrils flare. “There will be no next time, Oliver.”

This time I’m the one who laughs, because who the fuck does he think he is? “Last time I checked, you can’t tell me who I let inside me, Hunter.” I shrug. “You’re just mad because you had the chance and passed it up.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, does it?” I take a deep breath and let it out, and he just watches me with a frown. His confusion would be comical if it didn’t match mine. But now I want to know, where the fuck is the guy from last night? The one who kissed my forehead and put me to sleep? I hate this. I hate this so much. But he doesn’t let me answer, instead, he continues. “It’s all your fault. Ever since you came back, you’ve been ruining my life all over again, Oliver.”

I flinch and close my eyes, and when I open them, his face looks pained. “Stop fucking calling me Oliver!” I snap. “Stop pretending last night didn’t fucking happen!”

“Then you stop acting like everything is fine!” Hunter skates in place, spinning around in a circle while clutching his hair. He looks distraught, but it doesn’t do anything for me anymore. He doesn’t know my pain, won’t even acknowledge it. “Nothing is going to change. You did this to us!”

“Oh yeah?” I scoff. “Tell me, Hunt. What did I do now?” Only I already know the answer. No matter what I say to explain myself, I’m always going to be the guy who killed his mom. And fuck, that knowledge is a stab to my heart.

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