Page 95 of Fractured Faceoff

Why had she left?

My fingers brushed against the mug as if hoping to find some trace of her warmth still clinging to it. It was stupid; it was pathetic even—but I couldn’t help it.

I poured myself a cup anyway, watching as dark liquid swirled inside like chaotic thoughts battling for dominance in my mind. Each sip felt bitter on my tongue; nothing could wash away this sense of loss.

As I stood there in silence, feeling every ounce of frustration rise within me, I glanced around for any sign that she'd come back—her jacket draped over a chair or her shoes by the door—but nothing greeted me except that damned empty space where she belonged.

I shook my head and turned toward the door leading outside. Time to hit the ice; maybe it would clear my head or give me something else to focus on other than Isla’s absence.

I pulledinto the rink's parking lot, the familiar sight of the building rising before me. A part of me hoped stepping onto the ice would drown out the thoughts of Isla lingering in my head. I shoved my car door open and made my way to the locker room.

I stepped inside, the scent of sweat and worn leather greeting me. I scanned the room, expecting to find it empty. Instead, Weston Cole sat at one of the benches, lacing up his skates. The sight twisted something deep inside me.

I said nothing as I moved toward my own spot. I had nothing nice to say to him, after all.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Cole shot back without looking up.

I gritted my teeth and pulled on my gear, ignoring him. I didn't have time for whatever bullshit he wanted to throw my way today.

“Isla break your heart?” His voice dripped with mock concern as he continued to prod.

The mention of her name made me freeze mid-motion. The world narrowed down to that one word—Isla.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” He leaned forward, a smirk creeping onto his face. “Isla fucking wrecked you.”

“What of it?” My response came out sharp, each word punctuated by a clenched jaw.

Cole finally looked up at me, that infuriating gleam in his eye like he had just stumbled upon some secret weakness. “Didn’t realize you had the capacity to care.”

“I care about my sister,” I snapped back, fire igniting in my gut.

“I fucking do too,” he groused.

The air crackled with unspoken wordsand unresolved histories as we faced off across that cramped locker room space. Neither one of us willing to back down.

“Yeah, right,” I shot back, fists clenching at my sides. “That’s why you left her, why you broke her fucking heart.”

Cole’s gaze hardened. “What the fuck do you want from me? She was leaving. She’s a travel blogger. She wasn’t fucking staying.”

“She would have,” I snipped, the anger boiling inside me like molten lava. “That’s the thing. You’re a fucking coward. She would have stayed for you if you had just told her you cared."

He shook his head, an edge of defiance in his eyes. “You really think I’d do that to her? I know how much she loves her job. I’d never ask her.”

“Yeah? You were looking for a way out, and you found it.” My voice rose as I took a step closer, invading his space. “You didn’t even tell her you cared. You used her, got what you wanted, and left. You’re fucking scum.”

Cole leaned back slightly, that cocky smirk replaced by something colder. “Oh, yeah? And how does that make me any different than you?”

I opened my mouth to retort but stopped short. He had me there; the truth was unavoidable. I used Isla to get what I wanted—revenge on Ava and a distraction from my own mess of feelings. It felt so twisted now, knowing Ava had come back to me while Isla lingered on the sidelines.

But I didn't want Ava.

Not anymore.

“Did you tell her you cared?” Cole pressed.

Silence filled the room like an unwelcome guest as I faced him down. Again, I could say nothing because he was right—I hadn’t told Isla how much she meant to me. Not really. Sure, we danced around it during our time together;we skirted the edges of honesty with each other while lying through our teeth.

“So how about you shut the fuck up about it,” he said finally, standing up with an air of finality. He grabbed his stick and inspected the tape on his blade with furrowed brows as if fixing it would somehow fix everything else.

---