Page 51 of Beautiful Collide

The room erupts in laughter, and even I can’t help but chuckle despite my frustration.

“Why am I always the one getting roasted?” I shake my head.

“Because you make it too easy,” Aiden calls from across the room.

Where the hell did he come from?

Jeez. Is this Fuck with Hudson Day?

When the laughter dies down, I turn back to Molly, my tone softer, but it’s still obvious that I’m disappointed. “Look, I get that you hate me. That’s fine. But you didn’t have to do this.”

“I don’t hate you,” she says way too quickly, her expression shifting. “I just—”

“You don’t?” I interrupt, raising an eyebrow. “Because it sure feels like it. Every time we make even the slightest bit of progress, you do something to ruin it.”

Her mouth opens, but no words come out.

She looks like a fish out of water struggling to breathe.

“I wish we could’ve been on better footing.” I drop my voice, admitting something I don’t want to admit. “But you’re so determined to keep things the way they’ve always been. You won’t even give us a chance to be something . . . better.”

Her eyes soften.

I think she might say something real. Something honest.

But instead, she crosses her arms again and looks away. “You’re overreacting. It was just a few teenage fans. You’re fine.”

The disappointment in my chest deepens, but I force a tight smile. “Yeah, sure. Just a few teenage fans.”

With that, I turn and walk away, leaving her standing there.

Let her think she won this one. I have bigger things to focus on.

15

Hudson

The Saints lockerroom continues to buzz from our win. The energy is electric, the kind of high you can’t fake. There’s nothing like coming off a big game, knowing you left it all on the ice. My legs ache, and my hands are sore, but I’m grinning like an idiot.

We’re unstoppable.

What a game.

I could tell Coach was watching me, so I played like my life depended on it, and in truth, it did.

The team needed a win, and we got it.

Thank fuck.

The bar is packed when we get there, filled with fans who probably got word that we’d be celebrating here. Cheers erupt when we walk in, and Mason starts hamming it up immediately, bowing like he just won an Oscar.

“Relax, man,” I mutter, elbowing him. “You’re gonna pull something.”

“You love it,” he declares, grinning as he makes his way to the bar.

The heavy door slams shut behind me. Once inside, my eyes adjust to the dim lighting.

The music isn’t too loud, which is why we picked this place. It’s quieter than most places around here.

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