Page 95 of College Hockey Bully

“Are you really going to stand there and act like you don’t know what I’m talking about?”

“Cameron, I’m seriously fucking confused. You don’t have a girl.”

“Yeah, thanks to you,” he snaps. “Chelsea Brenner, remember her?”

My brain hurries to put a face to the name. “The psycho who damaged my car and tried to break into my house last year. What does she have to do with anything?”

“She was my girlfriend, the one I told you about,” he replies.

I stare at him blankly. My brain has gotten too much to process in one night. Nothing makes fucking sense. “The girl you were hellbent on not letting me meet until things were solid? Dude, you didn’t even describe her. How the fuck was I to know who she was?”

“Because I told you her name,” he throws back stiffly.

“Seriously, Cam? I was in a bad space last year. You know that. Casey and I had just broken up—fuck, I didn’t even remember my own name sometimes. Did you really think that I’d knowingly sleep with someone you cared for?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” He cocks his head, malice filling his eyes. “You’ve always been selfish, thinking of yourself, trying to one-up me. You couldn’t handle knowing a girl like Chelsea would want to settle for me, so what did you do? You fucking ruined her.”

“I slept with her once.One time,” I emphasize.

“Surely it was enough to drive her bat-shit crazy, enough to break up with me.” He laughs dryly. “The funny thing is, I was quite willing to settle for your sloppy seconds. Despite the factshe’d been holding out on sex, saying how much she’d rather get to know me first, even after finding out she gave it up to you in less than one night, I wanted to make it work. I wanted to put it in the past, even after you both betrayed me. She didn’t.”

I’m starting to think Chelsea and Cameron deserve each other. They’re both crazy as fuck. “Get it through your thick head. Idid notknow who she was!”

Cameron stares right at me, but it seems his mind is far away. “All our fucking lives, you’ve had the best of everything. People adored you. I was nothing but your glorious sidekick, living in your shadow. And the one time… the one fucking time…”

His eyes now fill with tears as his expression clears. “There were dozens of other girls at that party. Why didn’t you choose someone else?”

“Cam, you need help,” I whisper. I’m not even pissed off anymore. I’m not sure at what point he lost a screw and that makes me a terrible friend for not noticing. Maybe he’s right about one thing: in the past, I cared about no one else but me.

“And you need to pay for messing with one good thing in my life. Even if it kills me, you’re not getting to the finals. You’re not going to the NHL, Aiden. I swear to God.”

“This was your end game all along.” It’s not a question. It makes perfect sense now. Cameron thought I destroyed his life and thought it fit to return the favor. Everything he has done was an attempt to throw off my game and it almost worked. Almost. I don’t care what state of mind he’s in right now, I’ll ruin him before he stops me.

“Chelsea wasn’t the best thing that happened to you. She was the worst. It only took a couple drinks and smooth talk for her to drop her panties—”

Cameron growls and swings at me. His fist misses my face by an inch, then I double back and slam him into the fridge, my arm pressed at his throat. He gurgles, face going red as he unsuccessfully tries to slacken my grip.

“You almost killed an innocent girl,” I hiss. “All because you can’t see the truth. Chelsea was only using you, for whatever reason. You should’ve been happy I helped you dodge that bullet, instead of trying to ruin my life—”

A sudden click in my ear makes me freeze. Even before I felt the cold iron pressed against the back of my head, I knew what it was.

“Release my son, Aiden,” Mrs. Randolph whispers, her voice quivering despite the firm hold against my head. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

My hands fly up and she eases off me. Cautiously, I turn my front toward her. “Cameron needs help, Mrs. Randolph. I’m not sure if you overheard—”

“He has been getting help,” she interrupts, the gun still tight in her grip, though pointing to the floor. “Cameron has been on antidepressants since his father died.”

“What?”

Ignoring my outburst, she turns to him. “Don’t tell me you’ve stopped taking them again.”

Again?

Cameron sighs harshly. “I told you; I hate how they made me feel.”

“And what did I tell you would happen the next time, Cam? Did you think I was bluffing?”

“Mom—”

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