Chapter 5 #2
Before I can even stop myself, I’m off my stool, grabbing him by the back of his head and smashing his face against the bar. My body turns to steel, and I feel like the vein in my neck may fucking blow as I drag him backward and grip his neck.
“I dare you to say one more fucking word about her,” I challenge, fully aware that the entire room—including my coaches—are watching me. “I promise, it’ll be the last thing you ever say, fuck—”
I’m quickly pulled off him, and he grabs his throat and falls against the bar.
“Fuck you, Hunt,” he croaks, blood running from his nose and lips. “You’re a fucking psychopath.”
“Yeah, I am a fucking psychopath,” I coo, smirking through my chest-heaving breaths. “But you haven’t seen anything yet, asshole. Remember that.”
When I realize it’s Talmage and Huff dragging me outside, I know I’m in fucking trouble.
I got kicked out of the last college I was at because of fighting, and part of the deal with coming here to play for NEU was that I had to be on my best behavior.
Brody O’Brien and Cade Huff made it really fucking clear that they wouldn’t put up with my bullshit.
I wish I could say I’d take it back. But the truth is, he fucking deserved it.
No, he deserved way worse.
The September New England night air hits my face as Coach Huff pushes me forward.
When I turn toward him and Coach Talmage, I’m not sure who’s more pissed until a vein in Huff’s forehead pops out.
Even when we’re fucking up in practice, he never gets angry.
But right now, he looks like he could kill me.
“What in the actual fuck, Hunt?” Tripp growls, dragging his hand through his hair.
“The owner was kind enough to let us have this dinner at his restaurant because, you know, he’s a fucking sponsor for the team!
” His voice continues to rise. “And you show your appreciation by smashing your teammate’s head off the fucking bar? ”
“He deserved it,” I say coldly, and Cade’s face grows even angrier.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Hunt?” Huff barks, pacing around. “If Brody O’Brien hadn’t taken such a liking to you, you would never fucking play in a college arena again. Do you realize that?”
I look past them, staring out into absolutely nothing.
“My bad. Next time Leeman is talking about a girl the way he was, I won’t say a fucking thing,” I hiss through my teeth. “That what you want?”
When I look back at them, their expressions seem to soften a bit, and Huff drags a hand down his face.
“Fuck!” He kicks his shoe at the ground. “How the hell are we going to explain this to the athletic director, huh? You’re already on thin ice since getting transferred here.”
“I don’t know; maybe keep it a secret.” I shrug, attempting a grin, but when Tripp meets it with a death glare, I quickly turn my lips into a flat line.
“Both hockey teams and all staff are in there, dipshit,” Tripp grumbles. “Hell, it’s probably already on social media by now. Y’all fucked up, fighting in a public place at a fucking event.”
I ponder what to say. I know I need to tell them I’m sorry that I fucked up, even though I don’t regret it because Clark had no business talking about Isla like that.
And as close as Cade is with Cam Hardy, I’d think he’d agree with me if I told him.
But I’m not going to say that shit out loud to have it get back to her.
Just when I open my mouth to form my apology, the door swings open, and Cash rushes out.
“Before you punish Hunt, just know that I overheard what Leeman said, and that asshole deserved it,” Cash barks out, walking closer to us. “He was disrespecting Isla, just in case you need me to clear it up.”
Cade sighs deeply, looking at me. “It was Isla?” he utters, and I barely give him a nod, but that’s all the confirmation he needs. “Damn it,” he grumbles.
“Go back inside, Cash,” Tripp says to his stepson. “We appreciate you telling us that, but we’ve got this handled.”
Cash nods just before his eyes meet mine, and he walks back inside. Maybe Jameson was right. I guess he is a good guy. He could have not said anything, and yet he put himself in the middle to take my side.
“This doesn’t change the fact that you cannot go around fighting—” Cade starts to lecture me but is interrupted when, suddenly, Margo stalks out through the door with none other than Isla Hardy herself and a few others right on her heels.
“Say it again, bitch!” The words come from Isla in a roar, and her fists are clenched at her sides. “I fucking dare you to say that shit again right to my face instead of passing by my table.”
“What the fuck is going on with these kids tonight?” Tripp murmurs, barely audible. “Christ almighty.”
Isla is so mad that it’s almost like she doesn’t even see the three of us standing out here, watching it all go down. Cade steps forward, but before he can say anything, Margo swings around, standing toe to toe with Isla, only Margo’s got a solid half a foot on Isla’s height.
“What?” Margo cocks her head to the side.
“To say that you’re lucky that your mother got knocked up in high school and latched on to Cam Hardy in college to be your daddy?
” She glares down at Isla now, taunting her.
“You are lucky. If you didn’t have his last name on your back, you wouldn’t be anything. ”
Their chests heave, both looking like they’re seconds away from attacking.
“Girls, enough!” Cade yells, but no one even acknowledges him.
The look in Isla’s eye? I know that look. I felt that look minutes ago when I was inside the restaurant and Clark ran his mouth. She’s about to lose her shit and cross that line where there’s no return.
Who would have thought the princess herself had the same darkness in her that consumes me daily?
“Fuck you,” Isla hisses. “Fuck. You.”
“You could,” Margo coos, cocking her head to the side. “But that won’t get you any further ahead. After all, I don’t have any connections to help you out.” She shrugs teasingly. “You could say I’m just like whoever your real father probably is. A nobody.”
“Margo, enough.” It’s Tripp who’s barking at them now, yet neither looks his way.
“That is too fucking far, Margo!” one of the girls who followed them outside yells from behind Isla.
For a moment, Isla’s face flashes white, and anger is replaced with pain. But the second Margo turns her back to her and starts to walk away, Isla’s hand reaches out, and she grabs a handful of her hair, yanking her backward.
“No, you don’t,” Isla hisses, pulling her closer to her before spinning her around and shoving her against the building.
“You don’t get to talk shit about my fucking family and walk away with your nose held high and your tampon-filled ass swaying.
” Isla’s small body slams Margo harder against the door, keeping her arm across her chest. “Talk about me again and see what happens, you fucking bitch.”
“Isla, that’s enough,” Cade says, but this time, he doesn’t give her the opportunity to ignore him because he grabs her and drags her along with him until she’s not near Margo. Looking at Isla’s friends, he points inside the building. “Go. You’re not needed out here.”
Reluctantly, they scurry away, and I stand here, unsure of what the fuck to even do.
“What the fuck is going on with you? Fighting? Are you serious, kid? I’ve known you for most of your life, and I’ve never seen you even raise your voice—besides at Saint, and he usually deserves it.”
She doesn’t answer before the women’s hockey coach pushes through the door, looking from Margo to Isla before eventually stepping toward Tripp.
“What the hell happened?” she growls. “Tell me I heard it wrong. Tell me that two of my players weren’t actually fighting at an event.”
“Seems to be something in the air tonight,” Tripp utters, sighing.
“I think they all need to just cool off. Some shit was said tonight, and tempers flared. I mean, hell, we still have to deal with our players who did the same thing.” His eyes cut to mine.
“Except at least yours had the decency to bring it outside.”
“My bad,” I mutter.
“I’m too fucking tired for this tonight,” Coach Sanchez says, staring at Margo.
“What’s your beef with Isla? Is it because we chose her to fill in for Jazzy?
Because guess what, Pickering. That’s life!
She’s the better choice! Work hard, and maybe next year, she’ll be benched, and you’ll be the one out there.
But you can’t act like a damn spoiled brat when shit doesn’t go your way. ”
“Sorry, Coach,” Margo somehow musters up, looking down. “Can I go?”
Sanchez seems deep in thought before, finally, she smiles. “Yep, you can go. You can walk your ass back to your dorm.” She looks at Isla. “And seeing as your place is the opposite direction, I shouldn’t have to worry about any more catfights tonight, right?”
Both girls keep their gaze on the ground as they mutter, “Right,” both trying to keep their tones respectful.
“Good then. Off you go. I’ll see you both at five a.m. sharp in my office tomorrow. And wear some clothes you don’t care about because you’ll be cleaning gum off the arena seats.” She winks. “May get a little gross.”
Sighing, they each head out in opposite directions, and even though I keep my eyes on the wild-haired blonde, she never once looks my way. Still, I watch her disappear into the darkness, wishing I could follow her home—even if she doesn’t realize it.
Coach Sanchez pinches the bridge of her nose before looking at Huff and Talmage. “I need to go fill in the other coaches on what happened. Get home safe.”
“You too,” Huff mutters as Talmage holds his hand up in a wave, and then their attention is back on me once again.
“We’ve got to go find Leeman,” Coach Talmage says before jerking his chin up. “Did you drive here?”
Shaking my head once, I exhale. “Nope. Rode with West.”
Huff and Talmage share a look before Huff smirks at me.
“Good. You won’t be needing a ride home.
” He nods toward the road. “Get walking, boy. We’ll see you at five a.m. too.
I don’t think I need to give you the spiel that Sanchez gave the girls.
You already know to wear some shit clothes for the bitch work we’re about to have you do. ”
Sighing, I nod. “See you in the morning.”
And then I turn away from them and start walking.
They might not realize it … but they just sent me walking into the darkness in the same direction the girl I fuck my hand to daily just went.
And here they are, thinking they are punishing me. Pfft.