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.”

His body was frozen. The space goes silent

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

Timothy

hardwood floors of that office. Those eyes that used to look at me so softly had become dangerously frosty.

want it.

since that night, I was, and still am, ruined

drop the weights, letting the crashing of the bar break me out of my headspace. I move to the leg press, setting myself up for a personal record. I am angry enough

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

she asks sharply. “Who

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

question,” she snaps

locking up the machine so

screams, stomping her foot like a child denied a piece

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20

Chapter 11

down the bottom of her skin–tight neon dress that left little to the imagination.

Stella,” I scoff. “I said

back into the leg press

tell me,” she hisses, flashing me her phone screen.

tiredly. “I’m not in the mood for

“Her?”

I

she says

isn’t her,” I say, smirking slightly

says, disgust evident on her face. “For your sake, I hope not. The

goes still

herself off me, tossing her hair over one shoulder.

“Don’t

me like you, Timothy,” she says, folding her arms across her chest. I know my dad is still putting you through the ringer, but since you got the best captain thing, he has to let us bet together. And you’ll be on the ice as

never be together,” I snort, hopping back off the leg press and heading to leave. “Stop trying to make happen. It’s not

is

tilts, almost unnaturally.

my towel and

would really be a

sighs. “I mean, this