Page 66 of Brutal Game

Lucy lifted a shoulder. “I would, but Blake hasn’t returned a single one of my texts or calls. I’ll have to do something…drastic to even get him to talk to me.” She looked thoughtful. “Like, get myself kicked out of Tabb drastic, which I’m not entirely against, but?—”

“No,” I interrupted. I couldn’t be the reason Lucy got expelled. She’d told me she’d always dreamed of being a veterinarian, and she deserved to accomplish her dream.

And what about your dreams?A little voice asked.Justice is one thing, but what about what you want? Beyond your psychology degree?

Once again, Jack’s face appeared in my head.

Once again, I forced it away.

“You sure?” she asked.

“I’ll find another way,” I told her.

“Well, like I said, girl code. I’m happy to help in any way I can,” Lucy said.

“Butterfly!” A man yelled. Leslie looked up. The players were back on the ice. Mason Calloway was watching us, Jack next to him. Jack did seem calmer, although no less intense.

“Did you get lost?” Mason asked Leslie pointedly.

“Ah crap,” Leslie said. “Lucy, we need to get back to our seats.” She waved at her fiance and with a quick goodbye hug, headed to the other side of the stands, tugging Lucy after her.

Text me, Lucy mouthed at me.

I nodded.

Jack still stared, eyes burning into my body and mind. I felt shaky, buzzed, excited, disappointed. Powerful but helpless, focused but out of control.

So close to getting what I wanted, but so unsure of how to destroy the walls in my way.

Watch out, princess, Jack mouthed.

Princess.

I was so fucking sick of that nickname, the way it mademe feel, both bad—and good. So sick of Jack Feldman, and the wayhemade me feel, both bad—and good.

I desperately needed air.

The horn for the second period started, and Jack was once again focused on the puck. Feeling like I’d been released from prison, I turned to Tovah.

“I need a drink, and a snack.”And maybe a lobotomy.“You want anything?”

She shook her head, focused on the game.

In the main corridor, I exhaled, leaning against the wall. Even separated by glass, Jack’s energy was overwhelming. And watching him play… there was nothing like it. Asher was amazing on the ice. Jack was agod.He owned the ice, the puck, the entire game. And we, the spectators, were only lucky enough to get to experience him in his prime.

Hockey was everything to him. That was clear. And if I succeeded, I was going to take that away from him.

I got in line, ignoring looks from other students and fans. Jack’s interest in me had gotten around by now, and by wearing Dave’s jersey…

“Look, it’s Hat Trick’s slut,” some guy said.

“You mean cumdumpster,” one of his friends supplied, and the whole group of them laughed.

Fuck this.Between Jack’s pissed off attempts to piss a circle around me, other students’ mockery of me, and my fear that I wasn’t going to be able to help my brother, I’d reached a breaking point. I felt angry, reckless, like a newly lit, unsupervised fire in a forest that hadn’t seen rain in too long.

I wanted to burn.

At that moment, someone put their hand on my shoulder. I practically jumped out of my skin.

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