If You Dare: A Hockey Bully Romance

Wes

During the game, Trey knocks me off my feet.

“I’m on your team, asshole!” At least on the ice.

His lips are twisted up in a half-smirk, half-sneer. Stick raised high in the air like he’s going to bring it crashing down on me.

“On your feet, Novak!” Coach shouts.

By the time I’m up again, Trey is back to chasing guys on the other team and defending the net.

Luke’s right. I was an idiot for thinking Violet would actually pose for those photos willingly, that she’d let a guy like Trey kiss her or go down on her after he’d cut her up like a fucking cannibal about to dig into dessert.

I let my past blind me. Let another girl’s behavior affect how I treated Violet. Constantly waiting for her to betray me too. So even when she didn’t, even when her loyalty to me never wavered, I convinced myself she did.

I need to make things right with her. When she came back to campus, I thought tormenting her would make me feel better. Would bring me the peace that her not-guilty verdict didn’t.

But it hasn’t. Bullying her for what she did to Chloe has only made me feel worse. Another burden weighing on my soul.

If Chloe knew what I’ve done to Violet, she’d never forgive me. If she knew that I’m still punishing her—for something she didn’t even do—she’d crucify me herself.

I hear her words in my ear, crystal clear like her ghost is right next to me on the ice. Hands on her hips, in her figure skating suit. Move on, Wes. What’s done is done. We only get this one life, and you’re wasting it.

I swallow, choking back tears while the guys dart past me, the crowd chants and jeers, and Coach hollers my name.

I’ll never move forward if I’m always stuck in the past. My parents were right—I need to forgive Violet. Forgive myself. Because not forgiving her, not forgiving us, is only hurting me. Not helping.

And I’m fucking tired of the pain. Of feeling it, and causing it.

Violet and I fucked up that night. But it was an accident, and Chloe knows we’re sorry.

We’re in this together. Which is why I can’t properly grieve my sister without Violet by my side.

I won’t let Trey or any other asshole get between us again. Violet is the most loyal girl I’ve ever met. Loyal to her best friend to the grave. Loyal to me, even when I don’t deserve it.

My little flower, strong enough to weather any storm. Blooming just for me.

The puck sails past my shoulder, and I snap into action, the buzzer about to blare any second. My blades slice through the ice, and all the sounds at my back are muffled to a dull drone. With every echoing thud of my pulse in my ears, I brace for the buzzer to go off.

My stick smacks the puck so hard, my shoulder screams, but it whizzes toward the net and right past the goalie’s waiting hands.

The buzzer isn’t loud enough to drown out the cheers of the Devils, thudding into me and shouting, sticks hoisted in the air in victory.

I barely make it through the handshakes and team meeting in the locker room, every cell in my body buzzing, before I strip off my gear as fast as I can and fly out the door.

Violet

What happened to Chloe was my fault. But it was also an accident.

I’ll have to live with the guilt of what I did forever, but I can’t keep punishing myself. Aneesa was right—Chloe would want me to be happy. She would want me to move forward. She knows how much I miss her. How what I did haunts me every day.

But there’s no undoing what I did. And now I have to find a way to be okay with myself. To keep living, even if I have to do it without her.

I can’t wait for Wes to forgive me, and I’m not putting up with the pranks or the torment from him and the Devils anymore. Wes may think he is judge, jury, and executioner, but he’s wrong. The judge decided I’m not guilty. We’ll all have to live with that.

I check the time on my phone. His game should be ending—I still have enough time to make it across campus to confront him.

I need Wes to know that punishing me isn’t going to bring Chloe back. This needs to stop. If we avoid each other, we can deal with the other being on campus until he graduates in the spring.

If he’s not willing to do that, then I’ll leave. Maybe Mom will let me come home, but even if she doesn’t, I’ll be fine. I’ll rent an apartment and go to a community college. Or maybe I’ll get a few jobs while I write my books and publish them.

The thought of Chloe never getting to read any of my books shatters my heart. But writing them, dedicating the first one to her, will help me start putting the pieces back together.

I take the long route to the ice rink, attempting to psych myself up and rehearse what I’m going to say to Wes. I don’t expect forgiveness or friendship. But I do hope he’ll listen.

By the time I make it to the rink, the parking lot is nearly empty, the game long over. Shit. Maybe I’m too late. Maybe he’s already left.

I hurry inside and to the locker room. Silent on the other side of the door.

“Wes?” I call out.

Silence.

I knock on the door. “Wes?”

Nothing. I give a tug on the handle, but it doesn’t budge.

I’m not letting him avoid me. Until he opens that door, I’m not leaving. I’ll bang on this door all night, blow up his phone, whatever it takes to get him to listen to me.

“Wes!” I shout. Maybe he’s not in there. Maybe I already missed him.

Just as I’m about to turn and head back, the door swings open.

A hand reaches out and grabs my arm, yanking me into the room and slamming the door shut.