The Hockey Star’s Remorse

Chapter 11

Evie

I was horrified. He had gotten himself a private investigator to find me. There was no other plausible reason for him to know where I was in the first place.

“Answer the question, Mister Hayes,” I order, my tone becoming icy.

He continues fumbling over his words. “I- I can explain.”

That was all the confirmation I needed.

“Well, then. Please go ahead and explain yourself. I’m dying to hear what excuse you have in your incredibly expensive–looking suit jacket you have on,” I scoff.

He shakes his head, laughing tiredly.

“You practically vanished overnight,” he says defensively. “You didn’t text. You didn’t call. Hell, Evie. You had every reason to come and yell at me for what I did. But you just left. And no one in your family knew a thing. They didn’t even care. All of your stuff was just tossed on the front lawn.”

“I didn’t want to see you,” I explain flatly.

“I get that,” he says. “But seeing you the other night at the restaurant and bumping into you after the game, I had to set things right.”

“To make yourself feel better,” I laugh bitterly. “I’m not mad. I should’ve known better. You didn’t hide the fact that you were involved with other girls.”

“I wasn’t,” he says firmly. “I cut it all off before I even started talking to you. I wanted things with us to be different. I thought you were inexperienced.”

Fury burns through my veins now.

“You wanted things to be different, Timothy,” I ask, my voice shaking from pure unadulterated rage. “Did you really? Is that why you made that bet? I was just that special?”

“Evie,” he says, guilt filling his eyes again. “I didn’t-

“No,” I say sharply. Inhaling deeply, I start gathering my things. The workday wast

A

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Chapter 11

over at this point. I could call it quits and Mister Erickson wouldn’t mind. “I think this conversation is over. And I don’t know. I might not even take the case. I don’t care if I’m thrown out of this firm.”

at the words. His body was frozen. The space goes silent between us. It stretches on for what seems like

you to even hear me out,” he says finally. “Whatever

Timothy

on the sleek hardwood floors of that office. Those eyes that used to look at me so softly had become dangerously frosty. Why did I have to care so much? We both know I could have anyone I

want it.

night, I was, and still

move to the leg press, setting myself up for a personal record. I am angry enough that I know I would pull through. Sitting down in the machine,

eyes, letting the weight bear down on my legs before pushing it back up into resting position. About halfway through my set, my headphones are ripped from my head. I almost get up to fight whoever had just done that, except, the moment I see who

asks sharply. “Who

“Hello, Stell,” I sigh, performing another leg press. Maybe she would get too distracted to

my question,” she

calm down,” I huff, locking up the machine so that

like a child denied

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Wed, 20

Chapter 11

to be with me,” she fumes, pulling down the bottom of her skin–tight neon dress that left

understand, Stella,” I scoff. “I said

me, pushing me back into the leg press chair. “You’re not

tell me,” she hisses, flashing me her

tiredly. “I’m not in the mood

“Her?”

I growl. “Get

Evelyn,” she says sharply. “I hate her

I say, smirking slightly for

Emma Monroe,” she says, disgust evident on her face. “For your sake,

goes

shoves herself off me, tossing her hair over one

laugh. “Don’t

to make me like you, Timothy,” she says, folding her arms across her chest. I know my dad is still putting you through the

back off the leg press and heading to

is

head tilts, almost

Stella,” I say, grabbing my towel and wiping

really be a

the rest of the league,” she sighs. “I mean, this club