Page 111 of A Little Jaded

I want to tell him to stop looking at her. To stop noticing her. To stop proving she’s still on his radar despite his absence lately. It doesn’t matter that she’s sitting next to my family. That they’re trying to make her comfortable by talking to her. I can still see it. The way her spine is rigid. The way she’s chewing on her long black nails. The way her eyes keep darting around the arena.

“Get your head in the game,” Griffin grits out beside me.

Where the hell did he come from?

I tear my attention from the asshole across the ice and look at my best friend. “Itisin the game.”

“Nah, it’s in the stands,” he argues. “Come on. We got this.”

He’s right. We do.

Rolling my shoulders, I watch the rest of my team on the ice until Coach puts me in again, and I move toward the blue line. Anxious to prove it. To prove we’ve got this game. To prove we’re better. Not just the Hawks, but me. I’m better. I deserve this. I deserve her.

Focus, I remind myself.

As soon as the puck drops from the ref’s fingers, I’m ready to slap it toward Griffin, but the Grizzlies’ center gets to it first. He hits it toward the Hawks’ side of the ice. One of our defenders intercepts and chips it off the board as I race into position, barely catching the pass. Left, right, left, right, I dribble down the side and find Drake in my periphery.

Yeah, I see you, asshole.

When I stop short, he slams into the glass as, “Oof,” echoes throughout the arena.

“That one’s gotta hurt,” the announcer adds.

He’s not wrong.

Frustrated, Drake pushes off the glass, but I’m already around him, moving toward the net as he races to catch up to me.

Not today, Drake.

I pass the puck to Reeves, then move toward the pocket as sweat slides down my temple.

“Come on, come on, come on,” I mutter under my breath. My gaze is glued to the black biscuit when I’m hit from behind. With a crack, my helmet hits the glass, and I blink the stars from my eyes, realizing I’m pinned between Drake and the slick barrier. It’s a dirty move, but I’m not sure why I’m surprised.

“How’d you like that?” Drake growls.

I spin around and shove him off me. My gloves are on the ground again, and all thought of the game, of being thrown out or what numbers are on the scoreboard, dissipates. I cock my arm back and deck him in the face, causing an explosion of pain to erupt in my knuckles, but I don’t stop. I keep hitting him over and over until the refs rip me away, and I flex my hands. Yeah. My knuckles are split, and fresh blood coats his jersey.

“You’re out!” the ref yells. “Both of you!”

I look up at the scoreboard and grin. It’s four to one. Thirteen seconds left in the third period. We’ve got this game in the bag.

“Fine by me,” I answer. Turning to the bloodied Drake, I add, “Good game, Haitt.”

Then I look up at the stands, confirming my dad’s still seated next to my mom and Raine, and skate toward the locker room.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

RAINE

LAU won. And I survived being in the same room with my ex without puking my guts out. It should feel like I win on all counts, but I haven’t been able to quiet the little voice inside my head ever since I sat down in my seat and put myself in Everett’s shoes.

Ripping the paper towel from the dispenser in the women’s bathroom, I dry my hands, then toss it in the trash. Everett’s parents are waiting by the visitor’s locker rooms, but I snuck away to use the restroom.

As I push the door open, I nearly run into a yellow and brown jersey but stop short and crane my neck up. “Excuse me.”

“Hey, traitor,” the stranger grunts.

My brows pull as I look up at him again. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”

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