The Hockey Star’s Remorse

Chapter 233

The car ride was suffocating. I felt the ropes digging into my wrists, rubbing the skin raw. Glancing sideways, I saw Bruce, his face etched with conflicting emotions as he drove. He seemed lost in his own thoughts, wrestling with a dilemma that I couldn’t quite place.

I needed to find a way to crack through his facade, to spark a flicker of realization in him, a glimpse of the person he thought he was.

“You know, Stella was right,” I ventured cautiously, my voice shaky yet deliberate. “You’re nothing like

Timothy.”

The words seemed to jolt Bruce. He shot me a quick, intense glance, his jaw tightening as if trying to suppress an eruption of emotions. “What the hell are you talking about?” His voice was sharp, cutting through the tense silence in the car.

I pressed on, sensing a crack in his armor. “Timothy would’ve killed me already if he wanted. He’s just that determined as a person, even to a vicious degree.”

Bruce’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles whitening. “Don’t test me, Evie,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous.

But something stirred inside me, a desperate need to reach the person I once knew. “You always had my best interests at heart, even when you didn’t know how to show it,” I continued, ignoring his warning. “You never learned to express it because you never had anyone to teach you.”

The mention of his mother seemed to strike a nerve. Bruce’s eyes flickered with a mix of anger and pain. .“Stop it,” he bit out, his voice strained. He reached for the device streaming our conversation and

abruptly shut it off.

But I couldn’t stop now. “Where was your mother when we were teenagers?” I pushed, ignoring the fear that simmered beneath my skin. “We were left to navigate our own chaos.”

Bruce’s knuckles turned white as he clenched the steering wheel tighter. “I said stop talking about that!” His voice shook with a raw intensity.

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“I had to deal with my mother’s sudden return,” I pressed on, desperation lacing my words. “It tore

open old scars, Bruce.”

The car fell into an eerie silence, the tension thick enough to suffocate us both. Bruce’s grip relaxed on the steering wheel, his jaw twitching. His gaze flickered to me, a whirlwind of emotions swirling in his eyes anger, confusion, and a hint of vulnerability.

–

idea what it was like,” Bruce muttered, his

Bruce,” I replied softly, hoping to bridge the gap

finally asked, his voice hoarse. “A

to,” I whispered, my voice

hesitant pause lingered between us before I went on, my attempts more desperate. “I always had a soft spot for you,” I lied, my voice tinged with manufactured sincerity. “Even

He snorted. “Sure.”

more similar than you think,” I added, attempting to bridge the

akin to understanding

• car rolled along the dark, winding road, the hum of the engine a constant companion in our tense silence. I

his voice laced with bitterness. “But she always seemed…nicer than my own mother.” He glanced at me, his eyes holding an

in the air, revealing a certain pain beneath

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asked, hesitant yet curious about this unseen

of wistfulness softened Bruce’s features as he spoke. “When she still lived with us, she used to cook for me,” he began, a flicker

+5

“Yes, if my mother knew one thing, it was how to feed just about anyone. Even picky eaters.”

he was ready to laugh at that, but he

helped me join sports at school. I would’ve never even considered doing

encourage me to.”

image of Mia, a nurturing figure in Bruce’s life, conjured a pang of unexpected empathy

amount of mothering could’ve saved Bruce. He seemed to have already been

unfixable darkness before their families

a hint of vulnerability seeping into his tone. “She

was…there for me.”

Bruce spoke, memories of Mia drifted through my mind like elusive shadows. The thought of her

denneering him on at games, offering simple yet profound gestures of

within me.

my own. The absence of this woman, who had been an integral part of his life, had inadvertently left a void in mine

ride became an echo chamber of shared silences and

once shielded behind a facade of indifference, now lay exposed in the subdued glow of

‘the dashboard lights.

that,” I murmured softly, surprised at my own genuine