Page 32 of College Hockey Bully

Or maybe you can give her what she wants.

Groaning, I push up to sit and reach for my phone. It’s definitely the easier choice. My ex’s number pops up on the screen and my thumb hovers on the call button.

Think about this, Aiden. Once she answers, there’s no going back.

With a conceding sigh, I press the button.

Chapter 13

Scarlett

“I still think you should take a day off from school,” Mom’s worried voice comes from the doorway of my bedroom.

“Can’t,” I mutter, slipping a notebook in my backpack. “I have a presentation this morning. Besides, I need to get my internship hours recorded.”

She comes into the room, concern etched on her face. “No. You can’t go back to that godforsaken place. I forbid it.”

“Do I need to explain why I need those hours again?” I ask, raising a puzzled brow at her. She was standing right in that very same spot while I lamented over the curveball Professor Green had thrown at me.

“I understand how important it is to get that credit, honey, but I’m sure if you file a complaint with the school, they’ll move you someplace else.”

“It’s not that easy. First, I need to prove that someone drugged my drink and tried to have their way with me, and I don’t know how to do that.”

I don’t want to talk about it anymore, either. Waking up to the memory of some stranger crawling in bed with me, right before I lost consciousness, is the scariest thing I’ve experienced in quite a while. Thankfully, there were no signs that he violated me.

“You should start by approaching Aiden,” Mom points out. “He brought you here. I’m sure he knows what happened—”

“Of course he knows. He’s the captain. I’m sure he’s behind it all,” I snap, anger resurfacing at the mention of his name.

Mom sighs. “I cussed him out the other night, but when I calmed down, it got me thinking. Would he have brought you home if he was guilty? Besides, he bought you a new bike.”

“Maybe he had a rare attack on his conscience,” I reply with a shrug, slinging the strap on my shoulder. “Either way, I’m not letting anyone stop me. If they attack me again, I’m going to have proof, count on it.”

“Just be careful, sweetie,” she replies, and she pulls me into a hug, I hear the front door open.

It’s Theresa, red-faced and out of breath as if she ran the entire distance from her house to ours. “Good, you’re still here,” she pants, slipping something in my hand.

“What’s this?” I ask, eyeing what looks like a perfume bottle. I doubt my sister would run two streets to give me that.

“It’s pepper spray,” she explains. “Keep it close by. Anyone comes at you, just hold and squeeze. Simple.”

With a wry smile, I slip it in my pocket. “I doubt this would be enough, but thanks anyway.”

“God, I still feel terrible.” She pulls me into a hug. “I shouldn’t have convinced you to go.”

“It’s not your fault. Besides, it could’ve been worse,” I reply, my chin resting on her shoulder.

Mom scoffs softly, her expression still concerned.

“What?” I ask pulling back.

“I’m worried about how you’re handling all this, honey. You always seem so calm and collected, which is admirable, but I can’t help wondering if you’re going to snap one day. A lot has happened in less than a year and you’re taking it with so much grace.”

“Because my eyes are on the prize, Mom. I’m going to get us out of this neighborhood or die trying.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t say that. You’re going to have a long, fruitful life. We don’t use that D word in this house.”

That comment earns her a soft smile, then I pinch her cheek. “Gotta go, guys.”

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