Page 34 of Dreams on the Ice

Guess he’s not sick after all.

A few moments later, we’re skating back onto the ice. Back to the fans and back to our victory. Because we will be victorious. At least tonight. I refuse to lose on my birthday, especially to the Colorado Eagles.

Not that there’s anything wrong with them.

It wouldn’t matter who we were playing—I’d want to crush them like a bug.

The buzzer sounds, and then we play. The sounds of cheering, skates on the ice, and grunts fill my senses again. An Eagle shoulder-checks me, but I ignore him. Then, two more surround me and check me into the glass.

“Fuck you,” one growls.

Not sure why he’s pissed at me, but I decide to let it go. But then it happens again and again. No more letting it go. Two more come after me right as I make the shot into the goal. I hear the sound confirming it’s a goal, but I can’t enjoy it.

A fist slams against the side of my head.

Fuck this.

The gloves are off, and I jump on the one who hit me. Two more are on my back, punching kidney shots against my sides as I focus on the asshole in front of me. I hear the ref’s whistles, and then hands tug at my shoulders, trying to pull me off the asshole in front of me and, at the same time, thankfully pulling the men off my back.

I’m dragged away and sent to the penalty box. Throwing my hands in the air, I skate toward the box. Thankfully, I can see Brooklynn from across the rink. She’s sitting in her seat, her eyes on mine and a worried expression on her face.

Jutting my chin toward her, I give her a smile. She shakes her head, then flicks her attention to her lap. Someone taps her on the shoulder, and she looks at them. I watch as she says something, then shifts her gaze back to meet mine.

The entire five minutes in the box, I stare at her. I can’t keep my eyes off her. She’s beautiful, but it’s not just that. She’s worried. This shit with Kiki is no doubt putting a strain on her.

“Westwood,” the Eagle next to me calls out.

Tearing my eyes off Brooklynn, I look over at him. I’m not sure why he and all his teammates hate me, but I’m not giving him the satisfaction of asking, either.

“Maybe you shouldn’t treat women like shit. Then they wouldn’t have vendettas against you.”

His words ring in my ear. I know exactly what he’s talking about, but the fact he gives a shit is beyond me. Narrowing my eyes, I think about those words. I don’t respond because he’s watching me, his lips curved up into a smirk.

He wants my reaction.

He can’t have it.

But I have a feeling Kiki is behind this, maybe even my parents too. They can fuck with my money. They can be assholesto me. They can pretend I don’t exist and never existed, but I will be goddamned if they fuck with hockey. And if they’re in cahoots with Kiki and fucking with Brooklynn, well, then we have a bigger problem than I thought.

Because I will not stand for any of it.

I just have to figure out a way to deal with it.

Kiki is an entitled brat. I can’t just threaten her. She’ll make everything worse. I have to figure out how to beat her at her own game. She only cares about status and money, so that’s where I have to hit her.

My parents are much the same way. Threats don’t mean much. You have to hit them where it hurts, which is money and status. They don’t care if they never see me again, but if I were to threaten their status, that would be a whole different game.

And with that—my plan is hatched.

If I’m going to be broke, they’re going to be pariahs of the society they love.

BROOKLYNN

I can’t enjoy this game, not even when Sascha and Jake from Forrest’s parents’ party appear and greet me warmly. I introduce them to everyone but can’t enjoy them being here to support Forrest when nobody from his past has ever done such a thing.

I’m completely lost inside of my own head. My conversation is lacking, and I know it. I’m staring at the game but seeing nothing. The visit with my father wasn’t what I wanted it to be. Well, he was great about everything, but his advice wasn’t what I wanted to hear.

So now I’m sitting here watching this game but not seeing anything, trying not to burst into tears at any given moment.Sascha curls her fingers around my shoulder from behind me and leans down.

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