Fated Shot

Chapter 25

Jack

Things are still a bit tense between Penn and me, but the fact that he offered to drive us to practice this morning is a good sign. We’ve never really fought, any little scraps we’d have would be forgotten in a heartbeat, and he’s always been too forgiving for grudges. The car ride is certainly not the most talkative I’ve seen him, but he’s stopped staring daggers at me, so I’m considering that a win.

It’s a grueling practice, but I’ll take any form of distraction at this point. Even bag skating sounds better than sitting in my apartment, getting stuck in my head. I’m gassed by the time Coach blows the whistle, signaling the end of practice, and heads straight to his office without acknowledging any of us. He, too, seems to be preoccupied with something.

Max and I agreed to a few more drills, so we hang back on the ice while the others exit into the locker room. Fifteen minutes later, we decide to call it, too wrecked to continue. Penn’s already waiting by the glass, stuffed bag slumped over his shoulder, watching us.

As I make my way to the rink door, I spot someone approaching behind him. Slicked-back hair, leather loafers, and what I only imagine is a custom suit. Sebastian .

The fuck is he doing here? He smirks at me and my blood turns ice cold .

“Yo, Brody.” He calls out as I skate the rest of the way over. “You seen Mia? Thought she might be here,” he adds in an unmistakable provoking tone. This guy really does have a death wish.

Ignore him. He’s not worth it .

“She’s not here.”

“Oh no, don’t tell me…” he says mockingly, placing a hand over his heart, putting on a show, giving me fake sympathetic eyes.

“Don’t take it personally if she strung you along. She can’t be trusted to make her own decisions, always did need some firm guidance.” He’s just waiting for my reaction, eyes ablaze with taunting.

“Enough.” The sound is barely escaping my throat, which is now drained of every drop of moisture. The pounding in my chest starts to course its way through the rest of my body.

“Trust me, I wasted three years on her. She’s not worth pining over, bro. She’s nothing special.” I’m not his fucking bro.

“I’m sure that’s why you’ve spent weeks harassing her to get back together,” I snap back. Is this guy fucking for real? She’s everything and he knows it. He’s enjoying riling me up, I can’t let him get to me. This is what he wants.

Breathe.

I step off the ice, shoving past Sebastian and his smug expression standing at the door.

“Look, I’m just trying to help you out here.” He raises his hands up innocently, but the wickedness flickering on his face tells a whole different story. I continue toward the locker rooms, vision tunneling, using every ounce of self-control not to engage.

It doesn’t stop him.

“Sure, Amelia was cute back then, but she’s really let herself go. Plus, I’ll even save you the trouble of finding out yourself; she was a virgin when I met her, so her experience is severely lack—”

I don’t even let him finish that sentence before pivoting, my fist connecting with his nose.

My voice is coming out ragged but deadly, “Don’t ever utter her name again, you piece of shit.”

He’s in shock, not fighting back at all, but I’m a shark that’s caught the scent of blood, and I can’t stop. He’s intimidated her for years, destroyed every ounce of her light. I hit him again. This time the contact is with his cheek.

“You don’t even fucking deserve to breathe the same air as her.”

I push him backward, hard. He stumbles, struggling to stay upright. I’m good to move along, I’ve said enough, but he seems to snap out of the initial shock. Taking a step forward, he tries to shove me back.

“The fuck you think you’re doing,” I snarl. “You don’t want to fight me, Sebastian.” It’s a cold warning, but there’s truth in it. He’s a twig and I’m built for this. Despite my words, he’s rolling up his sleeves prepping for a brawl.

His slimy voice is unmistakable. “Can’t believe we’re doing this over that bitch, ” he says as he raises his fist, readying to swing.

My body stiffens at how he carelessly uses that word.

“I’ll fucking kill you.” I can’t remember anything past that point, locked in on him, I fully black out, body taking over. When I come to again, I realize there are two sets of hands pulling me off of him. Seb’s face is marked by fear, with a bruised cheek, a black eye already forming, and blood trickling down his nose.

It looks like he’s going to say something before I hear Penn’s familiar voice call to Sebastian, “Get the fuck out of here,” stepping forward, pointing to the door as Max stays holding my body a few strides back.

He looks between the three of us, grabs his briefcase, and runs away at top speed. I can’t believe that loser got even a second of her time. My body prickles with anger. He deserved what he got, but it wasn’t enough. I feel so out of control. I wish I could have protected her from him, just willed him out of her beautiful existence. I want to whisk her away, take away anything threatening to hurt her or dim her light, but I can’t. She’s not mine to protect.

Even after a thirty-minute ice-cold shower, my whole body is still burning with fury. I need to calm down. The adrenaline surge after a scrap on the ice usually diminishes faster, but I’m still fully on edge, blood pounding in my ears, and my skin heated. I sit down on the bench of the locker room, elbows resting on my knees, face buried in my hands, willing myself to breathe.

A throat clears in the doorway as my head raises. Sincerity and shame flood my voice as a lump catches in my throat. The last thing I need right now is to come across as some psychopath who can’t control his emotions, “Coach, I—”

“Appreciate what you did there, son.” He sends an appreciative nod my way, and it’s impossible to miss the heartache in his voice.

“Amelia…” His voice trails off before he clears his throat again. With a breath, he continues, “Amelia had a chat with us about him yesterday, and the fellas filled in the rest of your conversation.”

I’m searching for any sense that he knows more than he’s letting on, but I can’t read his expression fully.

“We’ll make sure Sebastian doesn’t press charges against you. He’ll also be served with a restraining order to keep him away from Amelia by the end of the day.”

All I can do is nod, dropping my head to stare at the mat ahead of me. Even hearing her name pulls at my chest. At least she’ll be safe.

“I…” he starts, shifting a little uncomfortably where he’s standing. “I just want her to be happy.”

There’s a small pause before he continues. “She deserves to be happy,” he says, almost as if he’s telling himself.

I stare right up at him this time, with every ounce of sincerity in my eyes. “I just want her to be happy too, Coach.” That’s all I fucking want. And as much as it shatters my heart, if it’s not me that she wants, I will walk away, no questions asked.

It looks like he’s about to say something else, but he stops himself, his mouth closing. Then, with a terse nod, he walks out.