Chapter 16

Chapter

Sixteen

FORREST

Moving quickly, I use my stick and my speed to skate through the defensemen, spinning around and passing the puck to Tomas. When I'm open again, he slaps it back to me, and then I take the shot.

Goal.

Fucking goal.

The buzzer sounds, and we make our way back to the box. I take this moment to look at the audience again and let out a sigh of relief when I see her. Everyone is going wild, and the music is blaring.

The goal is mine.

Brooklynn is wearing our jersey along with a short-as-fuck skirt. Her hair is done, her eyes on mine, and she waves. I wave back to her. Then she blows me a kiss, and it goes straight to my fucking dick.

The game is almost over. One more period and this game will be ours. We skate as a team toward the lockers. Waiting for Coach Burns, I try to keep to the back, knowing he will, without a doubt, have something to say about my playing.

Sure, I scored a goal, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have anything to be pissed at me about. I'm sure I fucked up more than once. As we gather around for our pep talk, a ballbusting speech that he is no doubt going to give, I grab a bottle of water and suck the contents in one gulp.

"This is the first real game of the season. While I'm sure you can all do better, at the same time, you're doing well right now. I can't expect you to be at your end-of-season best by the first game."

I'm shocked by how calm he's being. Maybe he's sick or something. I'm not sure. But it's weird, nonetheless. Then, as if he realizes that he's being too soft, his spine straightens, and he starts dissecting everything that we've been doing wrong, man by man.

Guess he's not sick after all.

A few moments later, we're skating back onto the ice. Back to the fans and back to our victory. Because we will be victorious. At least tonight. I refuse to lose on my birthday, especially to the Colorado Eagles.

Not that there's anything wrong with them.

It wouldn't matter who we were playing—I'd want to crush them like a bug.

The buzzer sounds, and then we play. The sounds of cheering, skates on the ice, and grunts fill my senses again. An Eagle shoulder-checks me, but I ignore him. Then, two more surround me and check me into the glass.

"Fuck you," one growls.

Not sure why he's pissed at me, but I decide to let it go. But then it happens again and again. No more letting it go. Two more come after me right as I make the shot into the goal. I hear the sound confirming it's a goal, but I can't enjoy it.

A fist slams against the side of my head.

Fuck this.

The gloves are off, and I jump on the one who hit me. Two more are on my back, punching kidney shots against my sides as I focus on the asshole in front of me. I hear the ref's whistles, and then hands tug at my shoulders, trying to pull me off the asshole in front of me and, at the same time, thankfully pulling the men off my back.

I'm dragged away and sent to the penalty box. Throwing my hands in the air, I skate toward the box. Thankfully, I can see Brooklynn from across the rink. She's sitting in her seat, her eyes on mine and a worried expression on her face.

Jutting my chin toward her, I give her a smile. She shakes her head, then flicks her attention to her lap. Someone taps her on the shoulder, and she looks at them. I watch as she says something, then shifts her gaze back to meet mine.

The entire five minutes in the box, I stare at her. I can't keep my eyes off her. She's beautiful, but it's not just that. She's worried. This shit with Kiki is no doubt putting a strain on her.

"Westwood," the Eagle next to me calls out.

Tearing my eyes off Brooklynn, I look over at him. I'm not sure why he and all his teammates hate me, but I'm not giving him the satisfaction of asking, either.

"Maybe you shouldn't treat women like shit. Then they wouldn't have vendettas against you."

His words ring in my ear. I know exactly what he's talking about, but the fact he gives a shit is beyond me. Narrowing my eyes, I think about those words. I don't respond because he's watching me, his lips curved up into a smirk.

He wants my reaction.

He can't have it.

But I have a feeling Kiki is behind this, maybe even my parents too. They can fuck with my money. They can be assholes to me. They can pretend I don't exist and never existed, but I will be goddamned if they fuck with hockey. And if they're in cahoots with Kiki and fucking with Brooklynn, well, then we have a bigger problem than I thought.

Because I will not stand for any of it.

I just have to figure out a way to deal with it.

Kiki is an entitled brat. I can't just threaten her. She'll make everything worse. I have to figure out how to beat her at her own game. She only cares about status and money, so that's where I have to hit her.

My parents are much the same way. Threats don't mean much. You have to hit them where it hurts, which is money and status. They don't care if they never see me again, but if I were to threaten their status, that would be a whole different game.

And with that—my plan is hatched.

If I'm going to be broke, they're going to be pariahs of the society they love.

brOOKLYNN

I can't enjoy this game, not even when Sascha and Jake from Forrest's parents' party appear and greet me warmly. I introduce them to everyone but can't enjoy them being here to support Forrest when nobody from his past has ever done such a thing.

I'm completely lost inside of my own head. My conversation is lacking, and I know it. I'm staring at the game but seeing nothing. The visit with my father wasn't what I wanted it to be. Well, he was great about everything, but his advice wasn't what I wanted to hear.

So now I'm sitting here watching this game but not seeing anything, trying not to burst into tears at any given moment. Sascha curls her fingers around my shoulder from behind me and leans down.

"You okay?" she asks.

Turning my head, I look over at her, plastering on a fake smile. "I'm good," I lie.

Her fingers flex against my shoulder, then she clears her throat. "Kiki is a grade A bitch. Seriously. What she's doing is not cool. Not at all. I don't agree with any of it, and I just wanted you to know that I support you."

It's sweet. Really sweet. I just wish I could take her up on said support. Although, I don't know what I would expect her to do. She has no control over Kiki being a bitch or not. Thanking her, I chew on the inside of my cheek and turn back toward the rink.

Forrest is in the penalty box for fighting. He watches me, but it's not just watching—he is staring at me, seeing all of me. And I know that he, without a doubt, notices that I'm upset, worried, anxious… all of the above.

When he's released from his purgatory, he jerks his chin and skates straight for his team box. I watch him for a moment as he talks to his red-faced coach. There are only five minutes left in the game.

It would really suck if they lost on his birthday. Starting the season off with a loss would also be devastating. There's something about winning your first home game of the season that lights a fight under these guys that stays with them.

They need this win, and Forrest does especially because he isn't going to get much of a win after I break up with him. Just thinking about it makes my heart slam against my chest, and my stomach twists.

I'm seconds away from losing my lunch all over this glass in front of me and making a complete spectacle of myself. The horn blares, interrupting my internal thoughts, and everyone jumps to their feet, screaming their heads off.

Automatically, I jump to my feet as well. My gaze swings to meet Forrest's. He's staring at me, his eyes appearing as if they are on fire. It's sexy as hell, and I curse myself yet again for the decision I'm going to have to make.

A decision that I hate.

When everyone starts to settle down, someone skates by Forrest, his shoulder slamming into his. I watch as Forrest spins around, his sights focused on the shoulder checker, and he skates right for him.

I know what's going to happen before it does. Fists slam, helmets are thrown, and then there's blood before they're broken apart, and Forrest is thrown out of the game. Everyone around us in the arena loves it. They're cheering and chanting, enjoying every second of the fight.

All of them, except the small group of women around me. We know that being thrown out of a game might be exciting to watch, but the aftermath isn't always that great. I'm not sure how he's going to take this. I can't imagine it would be good.

If they lose after he was thrown out, he's going to be an absolute bear. But if they win, maybe, just maybe, his mood will be saved before it's my turn to absolutely crush it. God. I hate everything about this situation.

Tears prick the backs of my eyes just thinking about what I'm going to have to do. Everything about this is pure hell. The shit Kiki has pulled has ruined my whole life—my business, my friends, and my relationship.

None of them would admit it. Not any of my friends, and definitely not Forrest. But it has. Her videos, her fans, her lies… they have ruined my entire life. Maybe I deserve it. Maybe I've done something to deserve all of this. I can't think of what it could be, but I also can't think of any other reason why it is happening. Because to have everything I could have ever dreamed of turning to complete shit the way it has—I must have done something very, very wrong.