CHAPTER 17
The night air is cool against my skin as I step outside the mansion, already pulling a cigarette from my pocket.
I hate how much I rely on these things now, but after that dinner, I need something—anything—to take the edge off.
Sitting across from Hayes for hours, pretending we’re just two normal families having a pleasant evening?
It’s enough to push anyone toward bad habits.
I light the cigarette and inhale deeply.
The burn fills my chest, familiar and grounding, far better than the suffocating tension I left behind in that dining room.
The Griffin estate stretches out before me, perfectly manicured, every inch of it screaming wealth and luxury. It’s beautiful. Immaculate.
And it makes me feel completely out of place.
Footsteps sound behind me.
I don’t turn around. I don’t need to.
That presence—heavy, intrusive—has become impossible to ignore lately.
“These things will kill you, you know?” Hayes says casually, leaning against the stone railing a few feet away. Close enough to feel. Not close enough to touch.
“Yeah,” I mutter, exhaling smoke. “Just like a million other things.”
I glance at him briefly before looking away again, my gaze drifting over the dark garden. The silence between us isn’t sharp like usual. It’s heavier. Charged. And I hate how aware I am of him standing there, existing in my space like he belongs.
Crickets chirp in the distance, their rhythm filling the quiet neither of us seems willing to break.
Hayes shifts, like he’s debating something. Then, “That was one awkward dinner, huh?” he says, almost… normal.
I snort. “You’re making conversation now?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Just stares out at the yard like it suddenly holds all the answers.
“Why not?”
I take another drag, letting the smoke sit in my lungs before releasing it slowly. I’m waiting for it—the jab, the insult, the inevitable reminder of who he really is.
But it doesn’t come.
Instead, he just stands there. Watching. Quiet.
And that’s worse.
The silence stretches, thick and uncomfortable, his attention burning into my side.
“Fucking stop already,” I say, flicking the cigarette over the railing and watching the ember disappear into the dark.
“Stop what?”
“Stop fucking staring at me,” I snap, shoving my hands into my jacket pockets and tilting my face toward the night sky. “You’re just being weird.”
There’s a pause.
Then—unexpected. Disarming.
“Yeah,” Hayes says. “Sorry.”
The word hits harder than any insult could.
I turn to look at him, taking note of the busted lip and the fading bruise on his cheek—still healing from our fight. My own ribs ache faintly when I push myself too hard during practice, and the black eye Hayes gave me has lightened but hasn’t fully disappeared.
Neat. We’re both walking reminders of how badly this can go.
Needing something to do with my hands, something to ground me, I pull out another cigarette and light it. I inhale deeply, letting the smoke burn its way down my lungs before exhaling into the cold night air.
“That still hurt?” Hayes asks, nodding toward my face—his handiwork.
I scoff softly, more tired than amused. I don’t understand where this conversation is going, and that alone puts me on edge. I’m used to Hayes being an asshole. A snob. A menace. But this—this strange, almost careful version of him—is unsettling.
The last time he was “nice” to me, he kissed me… and then made my life hell for it.
I know better than to trust this. Whatever this is, it’s just another one of his games. And fuck him for being good at it.
I consider walking away. I should walk away. But I’m exhausted—physically, mentally—and I don’t have it in me to fight him tonight.
Silence stretches between us again, awkward and heavy. Hayes shifts like he wants to say something, like he’s testing the weight of the moment.
Then, out of nowhere—
“You didn’t do too bad at practice this past week.”
I turn to him sharply. “What?”
He shrugs, glancing at me from the corner of his eye. “On the ice. You held your own. Considering everything.”
“Considering everything?” I repeat flatly.
There it is. There’s always a hook with him.
“You’re not as much of a rookie as I thought,” he says. And the weirdest part? His tone is almost… sincere. The smirk on his face isn’t the usual arrogant one. It’s muted. Controlled. Like he’s actually giving me credit.
I let out a short, humorless laugh. “Are you seriously complimenting me right now?”
Hayes chuckles, and I hate how natural it sounds. “Don’t get used to it,” he says, the corner of his mouth lifting. “I’m just being honest.”
I narrow my eyes. “Yeah? Since when are you honest with me?”
He meets my gaze, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes before his expression softens just a fraction. “Since now, I guess.”
That stops me cold.
I don’t know what to make of this. This isn’t the Hayes I know.
The Hayes I know would have used this moment to rip into me, make me feel like I didn’t belong on the team, on the ice—anywhere.
But right now, he’s not doing any of that.
He’s just…talking. Like we’re not constantly at each other’s throats.
Suspicion crawls up my spine. “What’s your angle?”
“No angle,” he says, straightening from the railing and stretching his arms over his head like this is nothing. “Just figured we could try something different for a change.”
I stare at him, waiting for the punchline.
It never comes.
“Something different,” I repeat slowly.
“Yeah.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Like not fighting. Just for tonight.”
I blink. Once.
Not fighting?
Us?
“You’re serious?”
Hayes shrugs, his tone deceptively light. “Why not? We’re already stuck here, pretending to be civil for our parents. What’s the point of dragging it out?”
I stare at him, waiting for the joke. It never comes.
“What are you saying?” I ask.
He meets my eyes, and for a split second, something slips through—something raw. Almost… vulnerable. “I’m saying let’s get out of here. Just for a little while.”
My heart does something stupid. I look away immediately, grounding myself. “You want to leave. With me?”
His smirk fades completely. “Yeah. Why not?”
I scoff, flicking the cigarette to the ground and crushing it beneath my boot. “Because we hate each other. You’ve made that pretty clear over the years.”
He doesn’t snap back. Doesn’t deflect. He just watches me, expression unreadable, voice calm. “What makes you think I hate you?”
The question lands hard.
I stare at him, my thoughts scrambling. He should hate me. After everything—middle school, the kiss, the fight, the dare—hate has been the one thing I’ve been sure of. It’s been easier to hold onto than anything else.
But standing here, looking at him now… I don’t have an answer ready.
Hayes doesn’t push. He just waits, like he’s giving me space to figure it out on my own.
“So?” he says quietly. “You wanna get out of here?”
There’s no arrogance in his voice. No challenge. Just… patience. And that scares me more than his threats ever did.
I exhale slowly. “Why do you want to leave with me?”
He shrugs again, but this time it’s real. “Maybe I don’t feel like being around them either,” he says, nodding toward the house. “Call it a truce. Just for tonight.”
I should say no.
I’ve trusted him before. Four years ago, and it wrecked me. I trusted him again during the dare, and I got hurt—just like I knew I would. Hayes Griffin has never been safe.
And now he’s asking me to trust him again by offering to get out of here with me.
The idea doesn’t feel as ridiculous as it should.
Part of me is still suspicious, still waiting for the other shoe to drop, but another part of me—one I’ve been trying to ignore for a long time—wants to take him up on it.
I want to say no, but this other part of me that is drawn to the danger that’s this boy, the part I hate admitting exists, makes me hesitate, pulling me toward him despite everything.
Hayes Griffin is an asshole. A manipulative, conceited, and corny asshole, but for some reason that doesn’t seem to scare me off, instead it keeps pulling me toward him. Toward his witty charms. Everything about this boy should scare me away and not draw me closer.
But the more I think about the million reasons why I should say no, the more reason I want to agree to get the fuck out of this place with him.
This is messed up. Everything about my feelings for Hayes Griffin is messed up. He’s cruel. He’s the enemy. I shouldn’t be falling for the enemy. I know that, but my brain chooses to disagree.
After a long moment, I finally mutter, “Fine. Truce. For tonight.”
Hayes grins, and it’s different from his usual smug smile. It’s…real. “Good,” he says, his tone lighter. “Let’s get out of here.”
“And if you try any fucked up shit with me tonight, I’ll fucking hurt you. I ain’t playing,”
Hayes smirks, the little show of emotion pulls at my heartstrings and I want to gag. “Promise.”
And against every instinct I have, I follow him—wondering if maybe, just maybe, things don’t have to stay broken forever.