CHAPTER 4
“How was the first day of school, guys?” Mom asks as Harper and I walk into the living room of our modern house.
She’s in the kitchen, preparing what she’ll probably call dinner—even though it’s only four in the afternoon.
“Hey, Mark,” I say, nodding toward him.
Mark is sprawled on the couch, absorbed in a medical textbook, pages flipping beneath his fingers.
A cold cup of coffee sits beside his open laptop.
He recently took a job at Evergreen Private Hospital—the one owned by the Griffins.
For a neurosurgeon of his caliber, he had other offers, including one from a community health center, but money talks.
The idea of Mark working for the Griffins makes my jaw tighten.
Still, my feud with Hayes isn’t worth wrecking his career.
“Dakota,” Mark replies absentmindedly, not looking up.
I turn toward the kitchen where Mom is wiping her hands on a dish towel.
Before she can say anything else, barking echoes through the house.
A grin spreads across my face.
Shepard barrels toward me, claws skidding against the floor as he nearly knocks me over. I drop my backpack and crouch just in time to catch him, rubbing behind his ears as he settles back on his haunches.
“Hey, Shep,” I murmur. “How was your day?”
He tilts his head, tongue lolling out before he barks again.
“Yeah,” I chuckle. “I figured.”
I got Shepard three years ago during one of the roughest periods of my life. He’s been my shadow ever since. Loyal. Steady. Uncomplicated.
“Dakota,” Mom says gently as she steps into the living room. At the same time, Mark snaps his book shut.
I exhale and straighten, slinging my backpack over my shoulder.
“Hey, Mom.”
I don’t linger.
“Come on, Shep.”
He follows as we head upstairs, nails clicking softly against the steps.
Once inside my room, I shut the door and lock it before dropping my backpack beside the bed. I shrug out of my blazer and toss it over the white couch in the corner. From one of my drawers, I pull out Shepard’s food and pour it into his bowl.
Then I collapse onto my queen-sized bed, shirt untucked, the day finally catching up to me.
I fish a cigarette from my pocket, slip it between my lips, and light it. Smoke fills my lungs as I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to erase today from my head.
Or rather—one specific part of it.
Hayes.
If I truly wanted to forget him, I should stay as far away from him as possible. Not march straight into his territory by joining the hockey team.
I already know this decision is self-destructive.
I know I’m going to hate the outcome.
But I don’t care.
Not if it means giving Hayes Griffin a taste of his own medicine.
Hockey is Hayes’s life.
The one thing I’m sure he actually loves. Everything else he pretends to care about feels manufactured—another role he plays to keep people satisfied. But hockey? That’s real. I saw it every time he stepped on the ice.
Growing up rich means living under a microscope. Living up to a family name. Performing perfection for parents who are always watching. For people who expect greatness as a given.
It almost makes me feel sorry for him.
Almost.
He’s still a dick.
A knock sounds at my door, followed by my mom’s voice.
“Dakota?”
“Fuck,” I mutter, jolting upright.
I yank the cigarette from my mouth, stub it out in the ashtray hidden in my drawer, and slam it shut. I grab the air freshener and spray the room like my life depends on it.
Shepard lifts his head from his food, ears twitching.
I press a finger to my lips.
“Don’t say shit.”
As much as we fight, I love my mom. I respect her. And the one thing she absolutely cannot stand is me smoking—especially now, when everything between us feels brittle.
I’m still angry she dragged us back here. Still grieving the life I’d managed to carve out in New York. I didn’t have many friends, but I had one. I had stability. I had space.
When the smell is finally masked, I unlock the door.
Mom’s eyes immediately sweep my room, sharp and suspicious, like she expects to find something incriminating lying out in the open.
Porn magazines, probably.
I still don’t get why she thinks I’d keep those around. We have the internet. Who does that anymore?
“I wasn’t masturbating,” I mutter, rolling my eyes as I walk back into the room.
She follows me in.
“The last thing I want is to know what my son does in his spare time.”
“And yet you assume it’s masturbation.” I sigh and drop onto the edge of my bed.
She sighs too, scanning the room again before finally turning her attention back to me.
“What do you want, Mom?” I’m exhausted. All I want is sleep.
“I want to talk.”
Of course she does.
Talking with my mom usually ends the same way—raised voices, slammed doors, days of silence.
“Okay.”
She walks over and sits beside me on the bed.
And suddenly, I feel like shit.
This is the part where guilt creeps in. Where I remember she’s trying. Where I wonder if I’m the problem now.
Fuck my life.
“I’m sorry, Dakota.” Mom’s voice is quieter now. “I’m sorry for bringing you back here—after everything that happened. After all those memories. I just… I want you to be happy after everything we’ve been through. Coming back might not have been the best idea, but I thought we could make it work.”
“Right,” I mutter, rolling the ring around my right forefinger as I stare blankly at the plasma TV mounted across from my bed.
“So… how was your first day?”
“Great.”
She exhales. “The principal called.”
That gets my attention.
“You can’t do that on your first day of school.”
“And she had to call you personally to say that?” I ask, already standing. “Or did you tell her to keep an eye on me?”
“Dakota, I’m your mother. I have every right to worry about you.”
“Of course,” I scoff.
She shakes her head. “What is your problem? Every day it’s a fight. You expect me to ignore your habits? First day back and you’re already in the principal’s office because you were caught smoking.”
“What do you want from me?” I snap.
She laughs softly—but there’s no humor in it.
“I get it. I left when your dad died. I was drowning. Nothing was okay, and I did what I could just to survive.” She runs a hand through her hair, breath shaky.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me.
But you can’t keep punishing me forever.
You need to stop holding onto the past and blaming me for everything. ”
Her voice lowers. “I may not have been the best mom—but I want to be here now.”
I don’t respond. Silence is easier. Safer.
Everyone has their own mess. Mine is heavy enough without her trying to carry it too.
“Got it,” I say finally.
She studies me, uncertain, then rises to her feet. “Dinner will be ready by seven.”
“Okay.”
She hesitates at the door. Opens her mouth. Closes it. Then tries again.
“I know you miss your dad,” she says quietly. “God, I miss him too. Every single day. He knew how to reach you in ways I never could. You were always closer to him—and sometimes I envied that.”
Her eyes glisten.
“But he’s not here anymore, Dakota. And that breaks my heart every day. I just… I need you to give me another chance.”
I swallow.
“Okay.” She sighs again, lips twisting as her gaze sweeps my room—anywhere but my face. Then she turns and steps out, quietly shutting the door behind her.
I lock it.
Shepard pads over, whining softly as I stop in front of the full-length mirror beside my bed.
“Don’t give me that look,” I mutter.
I meet my own reflection, fingers already working at the buttons of my shirt.
“I’m tired, Shep. So fucking tired.”
I strip down, craving a cold shower, and step into the en-suite.
Three weeks into senior year at Crestview Prep.
Every single day, Hayes and I lock eyes in the hallways.
Every single day, I glare at him.
And every single day, he glares right back.
Somewhere along the line, the girls—my year and below—decided I’m the bad boy. Probably because I keep to myself, always brooding, a permanent scowl carved into my face. I forget girls eat that shit up.
The guys, on the other hand, see me as a threat. Especially when their girlfriends won’t stop flirting with me.
That includes Shay Cassidy.
Hayes’s girlfriend.
And yeah—I flirt back. Not because I want her. But because it pisses him off. When I really want to push him, I wink at her when they’re together. She reacts exactly how I expect—flushed, flustered, blushing.
Predictable.
I may not look forward to school, but I always look forward to frustrating Hayes Griffin.
And I’m just getting started.
Today, he’s going to lose it.
Because today is hockey tryouts.
At recess, I grab a bottle of water from the cafeteria and take a seat at a table tucked into the corner. The popular table sits across the room. And by popular, I mean Hayes Griffin, Shay Cassidy, Ezra King, Finn Ashford, and Peach Ashford—the twins—all dripping privilege.
You’d think Hayes would be sitting with his team.
Nope.
Turns out Ezra and Shane are also on the hockey team. Shane’s a loud, dumb jock who thinks he’s God’s gift to women. From what I’ve seen, the only reason girls sleep with him is proximity to Hayes.
They’ll do anything to get close to him—even if it means fucking the discount version.
“Hey, man.”
I look up.
Tripp Anderson, somebody who considers himself my friend—I really don’t know what to call him yet—sits opposite me and drops a chicken salad and a bottle of water on the table in front of him.
Tripp and I met four days after I started school.
He was cool, knows when not to cross boundaries and he has a great sense of humor.
He’s African American, with chocolate skin, brown eyes, tall, and also on the slim and athletic side.
He’s a good-looking guy, plays basketball for the school team, and he’s friendly. He reminds me a lot about Seth.
“You’re back,” I say, leaning back to stare at him.
I haven’t seen Tripp for almost a week now.
His coach benched him because he was failing calculus and he was assigned a tutor, an Asian short but smart girl who’s also in our year.
He’s been busy trying to do better and when I asked him two days ago through text messages, he told me he was making progress.
“Yup. How you been all these days without me? Shitty, I think?” Tripp asks, staring at me with a small smile on his lips.
I chuckle before replying. “Something like that.”
Tripp and I hung out every chance we get after we got acquainted. He’s easy to talk to. I could remember the few days I tried to push him away, but it didn’t work. Tripp was determined to be my friend. And when I got to know him, I realized he wasn’t that bad. We have a lot in common.
“Mm-hmm.”
I feel someone’s eyes on me from the far corner as I tilt my head to the side only to lock eyes with Hayes.
He’s giving me one of his bored apathetic looks while his friends, oblivious to the tension between the two of us, talk about things that I’m sure don’t make sense.
I glare at him, my stare cutting deep at his pretty face before looking away to lock eyes with Tripp who I guess had been staring at me.
“I’m sure you didn’t hear a word I said.”
“What? Sorry, what did you say?”
Tripp laughs softly, craning his head around to stare at Hayes whose focus is still fixed on me. Tripp turns to look at me, a small smirk on his lips as he takes a scoop from his chicken salad.
“You still keeping that one all to yourself, huh?” Tripp asks, with one eyebrow cocked upward and a big grin on his face.
He’s talking about Hayes. The minute Tripp and I started hanging out, he knew something was going on between Hayes and me from the frequent glares we keep throwing at each other. He had asked a week ago and I told him he was just seeing things that aren’t there.
“Okay, I’m not dumb, Dakota. Obviously, you two hate each other over something and there’s a long-lost connection between you two.
You don’t want to talk about it, I get it.
But do you think it’s wise to join the hockey team with Hayes as the team captain?
You could always consider joining the basketball team. It would be fun.”
“I’m not good at basketball,” and that’s true. “But hockey, I’m pretty good at it. I’ve always loved the sport.”
“And Hayes? You two in one team? I mean just across the room from each other and it looks like you two wanna murder each other. Imagine you two in one team?”
Well, that’s a question I’ve asked myself too and the answer remains the same. Hayes Griffin is in for a long, disastrous trip.
And there’s no enjoying that.