If You Dare: A Hockey Bully Romance

Wes

I can’t take it anymore. I’ve been holding in the truth about that night for months, and it’s finally splintered me.

My heart is in my throat the entire ride home. My parents are never going to forgive me for what I’m about to tell them.

I burst into the house while they’re still in the middle of dinner, the kitchen filled with the aroma of melted cheese and baked noodles. Dad’s famous lasagna. Chloe’s favorite.

“Wes?” Mom stands. “What are you doing home, honey?”

“We’ve got plenty of lasagna,” Dad offers.

“I’m not hungry.” I swallow, but that lump in my throat doesn’t go away. “Actually, can I talk to you?”

They exchange a glance, both of them silently asking if the other knows what this is about. They’re both clueless.

“Everything all right, son?” Dad asks.

I take the closest empty chair. “I need to tell you guys something. About the night Chloe died.”

Their frowns deepen. Mom sits again and reaches for my hand. “What is it, honey?”

“I didn’t just find Chloe in the pool.” I take a slow breath through my nose to calm my pounding heart. “I saw Violet push her in.”

“Okay,” Mom says slowly, brows pulled together in confusion and concern. “We know Violet pushed her.”

I close my eyes. “You don’t get it. I watched Violet push her in.” I grind out the words, each one more difficult than the last. Heart breaking all over again. “I watched Violet jump in after her, and I was just standing there. Laughing. She and I were both laughing, like it was some funny joke. I didn’t even realize anything was wrong until Violet started screaming. I should’ve run over the second she pushed her in.” I try to swallow the lump in my throat, but it doesn’t go down, and my final words come out hoarse. “I could’ve saved her.”

Mom jumps up from her chair, the legs squealing across the floor before she wraps her arms around me. “Oh, honey. You didn’t do anything wrong. You couldn’t have saved her.”

Words I’ve needed to hear for a long time but don’t deserve.

Dad pats my shoulder. “It’s not your fault, son.”

I pinch my nose, trying to force the tears back. “Yes, it is. I saw it happen, and I just stood there. Violet pushed her, but she drowned because of me.”

I can’t hold back the sob anymore. I bury my face in my hands, trying to muffle the agonized sounds leaving my chest.

I could’ve saved her. I should’ve saved her. That’s the thought that’s been haunting me every single night since she died. I stood by and laughed while my sister drowned.

I let Violet take all the blame. She was the one who pushed her, after all. If she hadn’t done that, my sister wouldn’t need saving.

But no matter how many times I told myself that, no matter how much I hurt Violet and punished her for what she did, that ache in my chest never went away. The burden of guilt on my shoulders, threatening to snap me in two, growing heavier and heavier by the day.

I am cleaved in two now.

Mom holds me, rocks me like a small child again while I sob into her arms.

“What happened to Chloe was an accident.” Mom’s voice is watery now too, but she’s trying to hold it together. For me. The only child she has left. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened, Wes. You can’t blame Violet either. It was an awful, horrible accident. I’m so sorry you lost your sister. But it isn’t your fault. Don’t think that for even a second.”

Dad squeezes my hand, and I brush the tears out of my eyes long enough to see his own shimmering. In my whole life, I’ve only seen my dad cry twice—when he got the news about Chloe and when we attended her funeral. But his voice shakes again, just like it did when he delivered the eulogy for his only daughter. “You should be proud, Wes. You were such a great big brother to her.”

That shatters me completely.