Chapter 20
I’m walking out the front door, my bag slung over my shoulder, feeling this weird buzz in the pit of my stomach. The kind that means something’s going on, something that makes me smile for no reason at all. I’m happy.
“Hey,” my mom calls from the living room. “What’s got you smiling like that, huh? You got a date coming up?”
I freeze. My mind races for a second. Do I tell her? Do I even want to tell her? I’ve been seeing Zane for weeks now, but I’ve never said it out loud. It’s still new, raw, and wild. But she’s my mom. She deserves to know, right?
“No, Mom. Colin and I are over. We’re done.” The words feel heavy but freeing at the same time. It’s weird how easy it is to say now that I’m not tied up in that mess anymore.
Her eyebrows lift in that way that says she’s interested but not pushing. “So, who’s got you smiling like that?”
I can’t stop the smile on my face, not when I think of him. “There’s this new guy. His name’s Zane.”
Her eyes narrow slightly, but there’s no judgment. “Well, I’m free tomorrow night. I’m cooking dinner. You’re welcome to bring him.”
I blink. Did she just invite my new man to dinner without even asking about Colin? Hmm. She’s not usually this casual about stuff.
“Okay. I’ll ask him,” I say quickly.
“Alright. Just let me know.” She goes back to what she was doing, but I’m left standing there, a little off-balance.
I text Zane right away.
Remy: My mom wants to meet you. Dinner tomorrow night?
Your favorite dick: Yeah. I’ll be there.
I can’t stop smiling. He doesn’t even know what he’s walking into, but I’m excited. Nervous, too.
I’m pacing around my room, changing my outfit for the third time. What if he doesn’t like my mom? What if they don’t get along? I bite my lip, trying to calm the nerves building up in me.
“Everything’s going to be fine,” my mom says as she walks past me in the kitchen, catching me standing there like I’m about to have a panic attack. “You’re just nervous because it’s new. You like him, don’t you?”
I nod. “Yeah, I do. But—”
She cuts me off. “Relax. He’s coming over for dinner. Nothing crazy is going to happen.”
I wish I could be as calm as she is.
I make sure I’m looking decent, not too casual but not overdressed either. I run my fingers through my hair one last time before I hear the knock on the door.
“Guess that’s him,” my mom says with a smile, and it makes me even more nervous.
I open the door, and there he is, standing in the doorway with a bouquet of wild flowers. A shit-eating grin on his face, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.
“Hey,” he says casually, holding out the flowers. “For you.”
I’m speechless for a second, just staring at them. “You didn’t have to—”
He shrugs. “I wanted to.”
I take the flowers, and he leans down to kiss me softly on the cheek. A kiss that has my heart doing stupid things in my chest.
“Ready?” he asks, looking at me like he’s already planning on what to do with me after dinner.
“Yeah, let’s go.”
We walk into the house together, and my mom’s already setting the table. She stands up when she sees us. “Zane, right?”
He grins, stepping forward to shake her hand. “Yeah, that’s me. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
I watch him, impressed. He’s not even breaking a sweat. He’s smooth. Too smooth. I half expect him to pull some kind of power move, but he’s just charming.
“Please, sit down,” my mom says, motioning to the table. “Dinner’s almost ready. I’m glad you could join us.”
Zane doesn’t hesitate. He pulls out a chair and sits right next to me. He’s close, his arm brushing mine, and I can’t focus on anything but how he smells and how my body responds to his presence.
We eat. We talk. It’s easy. Zane’s on his best behavior, charming my mom, making her laugh. I’m not sure if it’s because he’s trying to impress her or if this is just who he is. Either way, it’s working.
“You’re very polite, Zane,” my mom says, her tone warm but a little cautious. “It’s nice to see someone who doesn’t just think about themselves.”
He chuckles, glancing at me with a glint in his eyes. “I’ve got to be polite when I’m trying to get in good with the family, right?”
I blush. He’s not even trying to hide it now. He’s making it known. But for once, I don’t mind.
After dinner, my mom and I clear the table. Zane helps without being asked, and she seems to appreciate it. I catch her looking at him, like she’s weighing him, deciding what to think.
As we finish, she pulls me aside. “He’s a good boy, Remy. I can tell he cares about you.”
I smile, but there’s something else in her eyes. “But?”
She hesitates. “But it’s clear he lives a different life than we do.”
I don’t know how to respond to that. Of course, he does. He’s not like Colin. He’s intense, dark, the kind of guy who could break your heart without even trying. But that’s part of the appeal, right?
“He doesn’t mind,” I finally say, my voice steady even if I’m unsure of what I mean.
My mom gives me a look, like she’s not convinced but doesn’t want to argue. “Just be careful, honey. People like him... they don’t always fit in with people like us.”
I nod, though I don’t completely agree. “I’ll be fine, Mom. I know what I’m doing.”
But the words don’t sit right with me. They twist in my stomach like something’s not quite right. I’m not stupid. I know what my mom means. Zane doesn’t live the same life as we do. He doesn’t have the same values, the same priorities.
But I don’t care. I want him. And that’s enough.
I catch myself glancing at him as he talks to my mom, still charming, still pretending to be the perfect guy.
But I know the truth. I know what he’s capable of. And I’m not running from it.
Maybe my mom’s right. Maybe he’s too different. But right now? I don’t care.
The rink smells like cold air, sweat, and a little bit of beer from the crowd. I’m sitting in the stands, trying not to fidget while the teams warm up on the ice. Zane’s out there, skating like he owns the place, and honestly, he kind of does.
I stare at him, unable to stop watching the way he moves. Every stride, every turn— he’s just so... good .
The guy next to me, some freshman with a beanie pulled low, glances over. “You here for Coburn?”
I nod, glancing back at him. “Yeah, you know him?”
He snorts. “Everyone knows Zane. Dude’s a beast. Plays like he’s got nothing to lose.”
I swallow hard at that because it’s true. Zane plays rough, fast, reckless. I’ve seen it in every game I’ve gone to, but I didn’t think about it much until now.
The buzzer sounds, and the crowd erupts in cheers. I sit up straighter, my eyes glued to Zane as he lines up with the rest of the team for the faceoff.
The puck drops, and they’re off. It’s chaos, bodies slamming into the boards, sticks clashing. I try to keep track of the puck, but my focus keeps drifting back to Zane. He’s everywhere, skating hard, shoving guys out of his way, barking orders to his teammates.
“Go, Zane!” I yell, even though he probably can’t hear me over the noise.
It’s a good game, fast-paced, with a lot of close calls. Zane’s in his element, controlling the ice like it’s his personal playground. The crowd loves him, screaming every time he takes the puck.
“Dude’s unstoppable,” the freshman next to me mutters.
I grin, leaning forward in my seat. He’s right. Zane’s a machine, dominating the game.
And then it happens.
One second, he’s skating full speed toward the goal, and the next, he’s slammed into the boards by two guys at once. The hit is brutal, the sound of it echoing through the rink like a gunshot.
“Oh my god,” I breathe, standing up before I even realize it.
Zane crumples to the ice, and everything goes still for a moment. Then the whistle blows, and the refs rush over.
“Shit,” the guy next to me mutters. “That looked bad. Really fucking bad.”
I’m frozen, my eyes locked on Zane. He’s not getting up.
“Move,” I snap, pushing past the guy and heading down the steps toward the rink.
“Miss, you can’t go down there,” a security guard says, stepping in front of me.
“Watch me,” I snap, ducking around him.
The trainers are on the ice now, crouching next to Zane. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but I see him shake his head like he’s arguing with them.
“Get up, Zane,” I whisper, clutching the railing.
Finally, he moves, sitting up slowly with the help of the trainers. The crowd cheers, but it’s not the same. It’s cautious, like they’re not sure if he’s okay yet.
He skates off the ice with one arm around the trainer’s shoulders, and I’m already moving, heading for the tunnel.
“Remy!” someone calls, but I don’t stop.
By the time I get to the locker room, he’s sitting on a bench, his jersey off, a bag of ice pressed against his shoulder. He looks up when I walk in, and his eyes narrow.
“You’re not supposed to be in here,” he says, his voice low and rough.
“Fuck that,” I snap, walking straight to him. “What the hell was that, Zane? Are you okay?”
He smirks, but it’s weaker than usual. “It’s nothing. Just a hard hit.”
“Nothing? You were on the ice for, like, five minutes!”
He shrugs, wincing when the movement makes him flinch. “I’ve had worse.”
I glare at him, my hands on my hips. “You’re such an asshole, you know that?”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Relax, baby. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine!” I snap, my voice rising. “You scared the shit out of me, Zane.”
His smirk fades, and he leans back, watching me with those intense eyes. “You’re mad because you’re worried about me?”
“Of course I’m worried! Jesus, Zane, you looked like you were fucking dead out there!”
He stands up, towering over me, the ice pack falling to the bench. “Hey,” he says softly, reaching out to cup my cheek. “I’m okay.”
I swat his hand away, glaring up at him. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like it’s no big deal.”
He sighs, dropping his hand. “It’s part of the game, Remy.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t think—” I cut myself off, my throat tightening.
“You didn’t think what?” he asks, his voice sharp now.
“I didn’t think I’d care this much, okay?” I snap, my chest heaving. “I didn’t think it’d fucking matter if you got hurt.”
He stares at me for a long moment, his jaw tightening. Then he steps closer, so close I can feel the heat coming off him.
“It matters,” he says quietly, his voice low and rough. “Don’t pretend it doesn’t.”
I look away, my hands clenching into fists. “You’re such a dick.”
He chuckles, and it’s the first real laugh I’ve heard from him all night. “Yeah, I know.”
I glance back at him, and he’s grinning now, that cocky smirk back in place. I want to slap it off his face, but I also want to kiss him.
“You’re impossible,” I mutter, shaking my head.
He leans down, brushing his lips against mine. “And you’re worried.”
I shove him lightly, but he doesn’t move. “You’re lucky I like you, asshole.”
“I’m lucky, huh?” he teases, his hands sliding down to my waist.
I roll my eyes, but I don’t pull away. “Just... don’t scare me like that again, okay?”
He nods, his expression serious now. “I’ll try.”
It’s not a promise, but it’s the best I’ll get.
He holds me as I cling to him. I hide the tears that slip out of my eyes.