Page 98 of College Hockey Bully

“Then again, that look on his face could mean anything. He spruced right up when that same brunette threw her armsaround him. That girl we saw him with, remember?” Tabitha huffs. “Men.”

She looks up at me. “Holy mother, Scarlett. Your entire face has gone white.”

Chapter 39

Aiden

With my hands gripping the handle of my car door, I glare up at my ex. “For God’s sake, Casey. Let go.”

A double-entendre in this moment. Not only do I want Casey to release her grip on the door so I can go, I also need her to drop the hope of us getting back together.

“No.” Her fingers squeeze against the edge of the door. “I’m not letting go until you explain yourself.”

“This might be hard for you to believe, but I’m doing this for your own good,” I reply.

Dating her solely for a chance to get in the NHL—that’s not right, regardless of what she’s done to me. I’m done hurting people while trying to achieve my goal. In hindsight, if I hadn’t been so hellbent on making pro, Scarlett would be safe and sound.

“My own good? Aiden, I want to be with you. How will this benefit me at all?”

With a sigh, I release the door. Gently tugging on the band-aid isn’t working, obviously. Time to rip it off and move on.

“Are you still hung up on that threesome—"

“I’m in love with someone else, Casey,” I interrupt, staring right in her eyes as I say it. “You and I, we’re never going to work.”

Casey gasps, her face scrunching into a painful expression that tugs on my heartstrings. Regardless of our history, I don’t want to hurt her.

“Casey—” I reach for her, but she brushes my hand away.

“Don’t touch me,” she snaps. “Go be with that bitch, whoever she is. Soon enough, you’ll realize she’s not enough for you, but don’t come running back to me, asshole.”

She pushes the door and I put my body inside just in time for it to slam against the frame. I shake my head as she storms off while typing in her cell phone. It wouldn’t surprise me if she’s contacting the next victim—I mean, potential boyfriend. Casey never does well being single.

At the moment, neither do I.

I pull out my phone, hoping to see Scarlett’s response to the flowers I sent, but there’s nothing. When the call goes straight to voicemail, I shift the gear into drive. I should probably leave it alone. We’re both transgressors in this mess, but she’s not willing to meet me halfway, to forgive like I’ve already done, then maybe it’s not for me. It leaves me with a painful sensation, but what the hell? I’ve endured worse.

But as I slow down at the stop sign near Scarlett’s neighborhood, I admit that’s a goddamn lie. I’ve never felt such agony in my life.

Rolling through the front gates twenty minutes later, I frown at the sight of Mom’s car in the driveway. She’s not due from her girls’ trip until tomorrow. For as long as I’ve known her, she has never cut her vacation short.

The sudden crashing that sounds suspiciously like breaking glass forces me into a run, leaving my car door open. I burst through the side door and enter the living room to findher with the fireplace poker, railing into the flat screen TV on the wall. Half of the living room is already trashed, with broken glasses everywhere.

“Mom, what the hell?” I rush at her, but she sees me coming and swings in my direction. I dart out of reach, narrowly missing being maimed by the tip of the poker. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I’m sick and tired of this shit.” She growls and dashes toward the glass cabinet where my trophies are.

Oh, hell no.

I grab her from behind. She screams as I wrestle the poker from her grip, then force her down on the couch. Did someone ply her with drugs on that resort, or something? This wild behavior is not like her.

“What’s happening to you, Mom?”

Still pressed down on the couch by my hand on her shoulder, Mom pants, glaring up at me. “I had a choice of either tearing this house apart or killing your dad,” she huffs.

With a sigh, I ease back. There’s no need to ask why she wants to kill him. “Mom, it makes no sense to keep paying private investigators to track his movements. You’re not leaving him.”

She sits up, her eyes still wild with fury, fingers digging into the couch. “A PI didn’t catch him this time, Aiden. I did.” She points toward the stairs. “In ourfuckingbed.”

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