Chapter 33
Scotty
The Wolves absolutely dominated the Vipers.
They controlled the pace from the first puck drop and never let up. By the middle of the game, the Vipers looked frustrated, sloppy, and slightly desperate—never a good combination when you're playing a team that thrives on punishing mistakes.
At some point, I stopped worrying about my upcoming conversation with them and just enjoyed the game.
I even forgot Ken was here.
For a minute.
Their starting goalie took the first two periods, but like the scoreboard suggested, he was having a rough time of it.
The Wolves had already put four past him before the coach finally yanked him late in the second.
When Ken glided onto the ice as the replacement goalie, something sour twisted in my gut.
I tried very hard not to look at him after that. Which was surprisingly easy when two particular defensemen kept stealing all my attention anyway.
Hunter and Ryder played like absolute beasts tonight.
Clean hits along the boards, blocked shots that made half the crowd groan in sympathy, and breakouts so smooth they looked choreographed.
Every time they stepped on the ice, the energy shifted.
Even if I wanted to ignore them—which I absolutely did not—it would have been impossible.
It was late in the third when things went sideways.
Hunter took a shot from the blue line that bounced off traffic and dropped right into the crease.
Ryder crashed the net immediately, trying to jam it in while half the Vipers' defense collapsed around him.
Bodies piled up, sticks tangled, and the whistle blew.
Suddenly, half the players on the ice were shoving each other.
Ken was shouting something at Hunter, and I watched in horror as he hooked his stick beneath his skates and tripped him. Hunter went down hard, and it looked like Ken was going to punch him when Ryder crashed into him and both of them went down.
Ryder was on top of him, yelling in his face for a good thirty seconds before Hunter grabbed Ryder's shoulder and hauled him back before things escalated into a full-blown fight.
Both Ryder and Ken looked like they wanted to kill each other but the linesmen jumped in before anything else could happen.
Ken kept running his mouth while they separated everyone.
One of the referees skated over, there was a quick discussion, and a second later, Ken was getting sent to the box while the crowd rained down boos loud enough to shake the glass.
Hunter skated over to Ryder once the refs cleared out, bumping his shoulder lightly, and Ryder shoved him back, playfully. Hunter reached out and squeezed the back of Ryder's neck before they both turned and headed for the bench.
Morgan leaned closer so I could hear her over the noise. "You dodged a fucking bullet."
"I think you're right," I yelled back.
Hunter and Ryder were stuck doing press after the game, and Dad and Morgan made dinner plans at some fancy seafood place downtown. Apparently, humiliating another NHL team required a celebratory lobster.
My conversation with the guys was going to have to wait until after, which was fine. Totally fine. I only spent the last couple of days working myself into a nervous breakdown over it. Waiting another hour or two wasn't going to kill me.
Probably.
I briefly considered telling everyone I wasn't feeling well, but I dismissed the idea. This was the new Scotty. The brave Scotty. The Scotty who didn't spend a week hiding from her Alphas because she was afraid of getting her heart broken.
Nope.
Enough hiding. I deserved this shot at happiness, and I was finally ready to take it.
I was taking the bull by the horns—no, that didn't sound right. The Alphas by the cocks? Knots? Something like that.
Whatever.
I was getting my Alphas and my happy ending.
Millie and Ella drove me back to Dad's so I could change out of the jeans and Wolves jersey I wore to the game.
The adrenaline from the arena slowly faded as soon as I stepped into my bedroom, leaving behind that weird restless feeling that usually showed up right before something big happened.
My closet was open in front of me, and I stood there staring at the clothes hanging inside with a new set of eyes.
A depressing amount of my wardrobe came from the time I was with Ken.
Dresses I wore on dates with him. Sweaters he said he liked. Shoes I bought because he once mentioned the color looked good on me.
I thought we were building a life together. Then he demonstrated, in the most graphic and humiliating way possible, that I wasn't enough.
I hated that even though I was over him, that little seed of doubt still crept in sometimes and whispered that maybe I just wasn't the kind of girl people stuck around for.
Millie and Ella were sitting on my bed watching me spiral while I stared into my closet like it held the answers to the universe somewhere between a cardigan and a pair of heels.
"What's going on in that head of yours?" Millie asked, pushing herself off the mattress and coming over to me.
I let out a slow breath and rubbed the back of my neck. "Just coming to the realization that it didn't matter what I did or how hard I tried, I was never going to be good enough for Ken."
There was a lot more tangled up in that thought, but explaining the entire emotional mess currently happening in my head felt exhausting.
"Fuck him," Millie announced with her typical bulldozer delicacy. "He doesn't deserve the awesomeness that is Rebecca Scott."
She marched over to my closet with the determined energy of a woman on a mission.
"It's time to forget that cheating bastard even exists," she declared, looking for something in my closet. "And nothing screams I am so over you like a new outfit."
She rummaged around for a moment before pulling out the blue dress she bought for me last week and holding it up triumphantly.
I stared at it, and despite everything, a smile slowly worked its way onto my face.
The dress was bold. The color practically demanded attention, and the cut hugged every curve of my body like it had something to prove.
When we bought it, my friends absolutely imagined me wearing it for Hunter and Ryder.
Tonight, though, I wasn't dressing for anyone but me.