Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 83550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
My attention drifts back to Richard Sanderson. He exchanges a few more words with the two former NHL players before striding purposefully down the hallway that leads to the locker room. Something about him sets my teeth on edge. It’s not just his aloof demeanor. It’s the way he carries himself, like we should all be thankful he decided to grace us with his esteemed presence.
Say what you want about my mother and her parenting style, but deep down I know she loves me. Maybe not the way I want, but I’ve never questioned it.
“I’ll be right back,” I say, forcing a casual tone as I step away from the group. “I’m going to use the bathroom before we head out.”
“Want me to come with?” Ava asks as Hayes wraps his arms around her from behind and presses a kiss against the side of her face.
“Nah, I’m good.” Instead of waiting for a reply, I swing away and follow Richard, making sure to keep a careful distance.
The hallway is quiet, the hum of fluorescent lights amplifying the sound of my Chucks against the polished floor. My pulse quickens when he pushes through the heavy door and disappears inside the locker room.
I hesitate as my hand hovers over the metal handle.
If I had any brains whatsoever, I’d return to the lobby and wait for Bridger there instead of eavesdropping on a private conversation. For a handful of seconds, curiosity wars with common sense.
I take a deep breath and cautiously ease the door open before slipping inside, trying to make as little noise as possible. The last thing I want is to alert either of them to my presence.
My nose scrunches at the heavy scent of sweat and humidity that permeates the air. It’s enough to knock me on my ass. I duck behind a row of lockers as my heart picks up tempo, pounding a harsh beat in my ears.
“You almost fucked that up.” Richard’s sharp voice cuts through the space, making me jump. “You’re lucky your teammates picked up your slack. Otherwise, they’d be blaming you for that loss. It would be the first time in ten years that this school didn’t make it through the playoffs.”
My breath catches.
What the hell?
Is his father really berating him about what happened on the ice?
“My game was off tonight,” Bridger mutters, his voice barely discernible.
“Your game was off?” the older man repeats with a disbelieving laugh. “You were a goddamn embarrassment out there. I should have left after the first period instead of wasting my time watching that shitshow.”
“I don’t need a lecture from you,” Bridger says in a clipped tone.
“Excuse me?” his father growls.
My chest constricts at the heavy footsteps that strike the tile. Any second, my heart is going to explode from my chest.
“Why don’t you just admit that the only thing you care about is how this reflects on you?”
“Watch your damn tone,” Richard snaps.
“Or what?” Bridger’s voice grows stronger, defiance bursting from it. “You’ll bench me? Oh wait, you don’t make those decisions, do you?”
Even though I can’t see what’s happening, the suffocating tension is enough to choke on. The sound of the slap slices through the air, stopping me cold. My mouth drops open, and my eyes widen in stunned disbelief.
Oh my God.
Did that just happen?
The silence that follows is deafening.
“You’ll regret that attitude, boy,” Richard hisses.
My heart pounds a painful tattoo as I press my back against the locker and scoot around the corner until I’m out of sight. Richard’s footsteps echo throughout the room, each sharp click a countdown to when I can finally breathe again. It’s only when the door swings shut behind him that I force out the shaky exhale and step out from my hiding spot.
I find Bridger sitting on the bench with his elbows braced on his knees and his head hanging between his shoulders. The red mark on his cheek stands out against his skin, evidence of what I heard. The sight of him like this, so beaten down and vulnerable, has something uncomfortable thrashing deep in my chest.
For a second or two, I wonder if it might be best for me to slink away and let him lick his wounds in private. If the situation were reversed, that’s exactly what I’d want.
But how can I do that?
Especially after he was there for me last night.
That thought only solidifies my decision. Even though I know he won’t be happy to see me, I take a deep breath, summoning courage I’m not sure I have, before stepping forward and making my presence known.
“Hey.”
His head snaps up, and his eyes narrow when they land on me. For a painful heartbeat, he only stares before asking, “What are you doing here?”
“I…” I hesitate, biting down on my lip. “I wanted to make sure you were all right. You had a rough game.”