The Hockey Star’s Remorse

Chapter 42

Chapter 42 Despite the smile on his face, that sentence alone produced a certain edge to his voice.

“Oh, those rumors!” | placed my hands on my cheeks, hoping my cool hands would thaw them somewhat. Alex was still towering over me, closer than before. “Yeah, don’t pay any attention to those.”

He laughed. “Oh, believe me. | don’t. I’m past my juvenile years.”

The next morning, | woke to the scent of batter and cinnamon drifting through the air. | lifted my head and peeked my eyes open to see the time on my digital -clock. It was only nine, but it felt like I'd slept for ages in such a comfortable bed.

| was almost too reluctant to slide out of it and put on my slippers, but | wasn’t so prepared to sleep the day away when breakfast was waiting in the other room. With a yawn, | shuffled out of the room and into the kitchen where Aria was flipping pancakes on a skillet.

She noticed me after a few seconds and gave me a tired smile. “Morning!” “Aworking stove?” | smiled and drifted away. “Hallelujah.”

“You should see the working toaster!” she announced as | walked into the living room and plopped myself onto the couch. | switched on the TV and flipped to the local news channel. There was mention of an athlete that had been taking performance enhancers, and that headline on its own reminded me.

“Timothy’s conference!” | hissed, snatching the remote back up. | flipped through channels, frustrated that | hadn’t even thought to check which channel the conference would be on. Fortunately, Timothy’s face flashed on the screen for the briefest of moments and | was able to backtrack just enough to find him again on

ESPN.

He stood confidently in front of a red and white backdrop with an odd number of microphones pointed at him. He looked handsome as always, his hair combed back neatly and his face shaven smoothly for the occasion. He adjusted his tie and gave the microphones a quick tap to ensure their functionality.

“| believed it would be a great disservice to the public if | didn’t address my current situation openly,” he began, his expression grave. “From this day forward, |

Chuper 42 will no longer be playing with the Thunderbolts.”

There were gasps and murmurs amongst the crowd. Cameras flashed as the reporters begged him for questions, but Timothy continued over them.

“Now, it won’t be an immediate switch. The change will take place in about three weeks, but | plan on taking a break in the meantime.”

While there was some unrest amongst the crowd, | felt a wave of relief at his words. Timothy's departure from the other club had been a necessary but messy decision. The extra rest would be needed.

Of course, my elation was short-lived as the reality of Timothy resting just down. the hall hit me. Maybe the hangover from the previous night's celebration had temporarily wiped my memory of that unfortunate fact. Who knew how often | was going to run into him?

Aria walked over right then with a plate of pancakes and set them beside me with the bottle of syrup. She popped the cap and started pouring syrup over the pancake stack.

“Is that my plate or yours?” | laughed, attempting to snatch the bottle from her. She pulled it away and snapped the cap back on.

“Just making sure we’re rationing,” she said, her eyes narrowing with mischief. “I mean, you practically drink the stuff, and it never lasts more than a week.”

“Exaggerate much?” | said with a scoff. She ran away before | could give her a good quick to the behind, leaving me with my semi-dry pancakes, | shook my head and turned my attention back to the screen to see Timothy already leaving the stage.

So much for breakfast entertainment. There weren't even any girls squealing in the background asking Timothy to marry them.

My phone began to ring, startling me as | scarfed down my pancakes. | set my plate down and grabbed my phone from the coffee table. As soon as | saw the screen, my heart plummeted.

That number had become all too familiar. | guess after his little show, not even a move could deter him from reaching me.

Aria had her back to me, still frying pancakes despite the tall stack on the plate beside her. | took that moment to leave the room and lock myself in the hallway

bathroom. As the phone vibrated violently in my hands, | debated letting it go to

voicemail.

Instead, against my better judgement, | answered.

“Hello, Coco,” Bruce’s voice sneered through the line, not even giving me the chance to speak. “What do you want, Bruce?” | asked, gritting my teeth.

Bruce chuckled darkly. “Oh, nothing much. Just wanted to congratulate you on that court win. | bet you’re swimming in cash now,” he said, his words dripping with malice.

| felt a surge of anger rise within me. Bruce was so predictable. “You’re wasting. your time, Bruce. | don’t owe you anything,” | said firmly.

He laughed again, only a little less genuinely. “Oh, you don’t owe me anything? We both know that’s not true.” My mind began to race. “I’m not giving you a cent, Bruce. Leave me alone,” | stated, my voice unwavering. “Oh, you will, Coco. If you don’t give me what | want, I'll make sure everyone knows your dirty little secrets,” Bruce hissed.

| squeezed my eyes shut as memories from that terrible night flooded my mind. There was an echo of glass shattering against the floor, and the warmth of fresh blood spraying along my arm. They imagery flashed before my eyes, and | had to brace the wall for support.

Bruce was silent on the other line. He knew he had me under his thumb. With a sigh, | relented. “Fine, I'll meet you. But this is the last time, Bruce.” “Perfect,” he purred. “I’ll send you the address.”

After hanging up, Bruce sent the address over text. When | opened it in my mapsThis content provided by N(o)velDrama].[Org.

| had to zoom in to see exactly where it was. It didn’t really have a set building there that | knew of; It was likely some seedy place on the outskirts of town.

app,

| put the phone away and stared ahead at the blue wall. Somewhere along the way, | must have lost my mind. | eventually built up the strength to leave the bathroom and go to my room to

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change clothes. When | walked back into the living room, Aria was seated on the couch eating pancakes. She gave me a once over and quirked an eyebrow,

“Where are you going?” she asked, then motioned to my plate. “You didn’t finish your breakfast.” “Eat ‘em for me,” | told her, grabbing my keys from the hook by the door. “I gotta run an errand, but I'll be right back.” She stopped chewing and pursed her lips. “Okay...”

| didn’t want to give her any more time to question me. | bid her a quick goodbye and shut the door. If this went well, she hopefully wouldn’t have to be involved

anymore.

| hopped in my car and shoved the keys in the ignition. The engine roared to life and | tightened my grip on the wheel, the adrenaline pumping through me a mile per minute.

“We're just going to talk,” | told myself as | pulled out of the parking lot. | always had to deal with Bruce alone. This time was no different.

From the moment our families blended, | could tell that something was off about Bruce. He always had on a sly smirk, and his eyes would glimmer like he was

always in the know about hing serious. The way he looked at me, however,

was suggestive of something else that | didn’t want to analyze.

My stepmother was blind to her son’s antisocial behavior, and my father was an afterthought. He was physically there, but emotionally, any sentiments pf his were drowned in booze. As soon as the intoxication became deadly, Bruce took advantage.

There was a dingy warehouse up ahead. | pulled up into one of the parking spots and shut off the car. | had to steel myself for the confrontation. It had been so long. since I’d even seen his face, and | could picture him looking grubbier than before.

Eventually, | stepped out and slammed the door behind me. Looking around, 1 could see the area was secluded. The address had led to a plot of storage units, so the area was a maze of small buildings littered about.

As | walked deeper into the walkways, | was suddenly shrouded in more darkness. than | felt comfortable with. The air was thick with an unsettling stillness, and the

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11 21 Thu, 21 Mar G

only sound | could hear was her own breathing.

Suddenly, | heard it the sound of footsteps. They were faint at first, but as | strained my cars, the footsteps became clearer, growing louder and closer.

Fear gripped me and | halted my steps. The footsteps behind me stopped as well and there was stretch of silence before it was broken with a rough laugh.

Summoning all my courage, | turned around and faced the source of the noise. My breath caught in my throat as | saw his shadowy figure standing before me, his features obscured in darkness.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as we stared at each other. It was like seeing a ghost.

Finally, Bruce emerged from the shadows, his sinister grin sending shivers down my spine. He had kept his grungy look from years ago, his affinity for denim and plaid never lost. There was a light scar on the top of his forehead, which | dreadfully remembered the source of, and | got a rush of fear.

Bruce tilted his head to the side, his long stringy bangs hovering over his eyes. “Hello, Coco,” he said, his voice dripping with malic

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