Page 137 of Beautiful Collide

It would be so easy to clock him right now. To swing and catch him right on the cheek.

I force myself to take a deep breath.

Mom would kill you if you made headlines for this.

She might, the devil on my shoulder starts, but she also might reward you when you tell her you did it for Molly.

“Hudson,” Molly warns.

Fine.

I glare at Hayes, getting in his face. “I’ll see you tomorrow on the ice.”

Both of us have made our intentions very clear. We’ll finish this in the rink.

When the douchebag walks away, Molly glares at me. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

“Didn’t need to,” I shoot back.

Molly hesitates, almost like she’s torn by how to act, but finally, her posture relaxes. “Thanks, I guess.”

“You’re welcome.”

I step closer, bending down so only she can hear. “I know you said this is how it has to be, but know this: I’m going to change your mind.”

Then I pull back and walk away, leaving her with that parting gift.

47

Hudson

The rink isalive with noise. The crowd roars as the guys and I skate out for warm-ups. I tighten my jaw as I survey the players on the Colts.

My eyes find Hayes immediately.

He’s such a douche. Skating like he owns the ice.

Spoiler alert: he doesn’t.

I do.

He needs to be knocked down a peg.

Lucky for him, I’m up for the job.

I can’t get the image out of my head—Hayes leaning in too close to Molly, his hand brushing her waist. Molly’s polite but stiff smile, her annoyance evident to anyone paying attention.

The image is burned in my brain, fueling my anger.

I clench my hands. I’m ready to fight.

Thirty minutes later, the game begins.

Right off the bat, it’s fast and physical.

We score, and then they score.

My frustration is at an all-time high every time Hayes is near, which is often. I focus on playing, though, trying desperately not to let him goad me.

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