Page 91 of College Hockey Bully

“Who are you talking about?” I ask, just as it hits me. I saw her on the lawn with Scarlett a few weeks ago.

“Scarlett Pierce. Remember her? Yeah, she was just rushed to the hospital because of you. She’s probably not even alive at this point—”

I push through my teammates, my focus on the exit at the end of the hall. A firm grip on my arm makes me stop. I’ve never seen Coach looking so stern.

“Don’t you dare take another step,” he barks. “You’re not going to ruin your future over some girl.”

“Did you hear what she said? Scarlett’s there because of me. I need to—”

“Focus on winning the game. Are you a doctor? There’s nothing you can do for her,” Coach replies.

“He’s right, man,” Noah cuts in. “Eyes on the prize. You can always take care of her later—”

With a growl, I lunge at him. Lucky for him, there are five guys standing between us, blocking the way. “It was you,” I seethe. “You did this to her.”

“What?” he scoff-laughs, looking around at the other guys. “Dude, I was here the entire time.”

“It can’t be Noah,” Michael cuts in. “It can’t be any of us. We were all here.”

I shake off Cameron’s hold on me, pushing through them and toward the ice rink. “Whoever did this to her will have hell to pay, that’s all I’m saying,” I throw over my shoulder. Until then, I’m going to throw everything I have into this game.

Easier fucking said than done.

It’s like an uphill task trying to keep the game flowing. I can see my teammates’ frustration whenever I either miss a pass, or mistakenly send a puck to the opposing team. My sixth miss at goal has Odean yelling, “Snap the fuck out of it, Hunter!” as he zips past me.

I wish it was that simple. The more time passes, the worse this heavy sensation in my gut, the more I worry about Scarlett. Tabitha mentioned she might not be alive, for fuck’s sake. What the hell did they do to her?

The sound of a sharp whistle announces our time out and when Coach beckons to me, I already know what he’s going to say.

“If you’re no longer interested in making it to the finals, sit out the rest of the game. Your sub is more than ready to play,” he says.

Okay, so that was not what I expected.

“You worked your ass off to get here; is this how you want to go out?” he continues.

“Of course not, Coach.”

“Then fucking show me how much you want this, Hunter, because I’m no longer convinced.”

With a nod, I drag my helmet back on. I might lose out on being drafted by New York, but not because of playing a crappy game. I position my body square for the face-off. The second the puck falls, I’m out like the speed of light.

Tossing my concern of Scarlett to the back of my head, I zip around the rink, setting up my teammates in the offensive area and defending in the neutral zone. It takes an hour to reclaim what we’d lost in the earlier stages of the game that ended one point in our favor.

A win is a win.

“Hey, we’re heading to Mickey’s to celebrate,” Cameron says cautiously as I yank on a clean shirt half an hour later. “No chance you’d want to join us, huh?”

“What do you think?” I snap. “I’m not hanging out with whoever hurt Scarlett.”

“Dude, it can’t be one of us. We were all here. It’s probably her partner in crime trying to tie up a loose end.”

“Scarlett had no partner in crime.” She saw an opportunity to get back at me and she took it, that’s all.

Cameron appears ready to argue further but thinks better of it. “We’ll save you a seat in case you change your mind.”

I shoot him a stiff thumbs-up sign, throw a glare at the other guys, then storm out. People congratulate me as I go out and I respond with a dry smile. It’s bittersweet. I should be over the moon, heading out with the guys to celebrate this monumental victory. Instead, I’m driving over the speed limit, running several red lights with anxiety swarming my stomach and a prayer on my lips.

Please, let Scarlett be okay.

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