The Hockey Star’s Remorse

Chapter 11

Chapter 11 Evie

| was horrified. He had gotten himself a private investigator to find me. There was no other plausible reason for him to know where | was in the first place.

“Answer the question, Mister Hayes,” | order, my tone becoming icy. He continues fumbling over his words. “I- | can explain.” That was all the confirmation | needed.

“Well, then. Please go ahead and explain yourself. I’m dying to hear what excuse you have in your incredibly expensive—looking suit jacket you have on,” | scoff.

He shakes his head, laughing tiredly.

“You practically vanished overnight,” he says defensively. “You didn’t text. You didn’t call. Hell, Evie. You had every reason to come and yell at me for what | did. But you just left. And no one in your family knew a thing. They didn’t even care. All of your stuff was just tossed on the front lawn.”

“| didn’t want to see you,” | explain flatly.

“| get that,” he says. “But seeing you the other night at the restaurant and bumping into you after the game, | had to set things right.”

“To make yourself feel better,” | laugh bitterly. “I’m not mad. | should've known better. You didn’t hide the fact that you were involved with other girls.”

“| wasn't,” he says firmly. “I cut it all off before | even started talking to you. | wanted things with us to be different. | thought you were inexperienced.”

Fury burns through my veins now.

“You wanted things to be different, Timothy,” | ask, my voice shaking from pure unadulterated rage. “Did you really? Is that why you made that bet? | was just that special?”

“Evie,” he says, guilt filling his eyes again. “I didn’t-

“No,” | say sharply. Inhaling deeply, | start gathering my things. The workday wast A

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over at this point. | could call it quits and Mister Erickson wouldn't mind. “I think this conversation is over. And | don’t know. | might not even take the case. | don’t care if I’m thrown out of this firm.”

Timothy almost jolts at the words. His body was frozen. The space goes silent between us. It stretches on for what seems like hours.

“It was big of you to even hear me out,” he says finally. “Whatever you decide, I'll accept.” Timothy

If looks could kill, | would have been dead on the sleek hardwood floors of that office. Those eyes that used to look at me so softly had become dangerously frosty. Why did | have to care so much? We both know | could have anyone | want if |

want it. But since that night, | was, and still am, ruined for anyone else.

| drop the weights, letting the crashing of the bar break me out of my headspace. | move to the leg press, setting myself up for a personal record. | am angry enough that I know | would pull through. Sitting down in the machine, | chug some water and go back to work.

| shut my eyes, letting the weight bear down on my legs before pushing it back up into resting position. About halfway through my set, my headphones are ripped from my head. | almost get up to fight whoever had just done that, except, the moment | see who it is, | lay my head back against the machine tiredly.

“Who's Evie,” she asks sharply. “Who is she?”

| groan, annoyed by the interruption to my therapeutic workout session. “Hello, Stell,” | sigh, performing another leg press. Maybe she would get too distracted to remember why she was here.

“Answer my question,” she snaps furiously.

“Not until you calm down,” | huff, locking up the machine so that | could get out safely. She screams, stomping her foot like a child denied a piece of candy. “You know Need Top Metal Stamping? Get a 10% Discount (Start Now)

that you’re supposed to be with me,” she fumes, pulling down the bottom of her skin-tight neon dress that left little to the imagination. “I mean, | don’t understand it!”

“What is there to understand, Stella,” | scoff. “I said what | said.”

She lunges at me, pushing me back into the leg press chair. “You're not leaving. until you tell me,” she hisses, flashing me her phone screen. “Her?”

“Stella, get off me,” | say tiredly. “I’m not in the mood for your antics.”

“Her?”

“You're being ridiculous,” | growl. “Get off.”

“Don't tell me it's Evelyn,” she says sharply. “I hate her so much.”

“Good thing it isn’t her,” | say, smirking slightly for my own amusement.

“This magazine says its Emma Monroe,” she says, disgust evident on her face. “For your sake, | hope not. The girl is a walking ick-”This content is © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Stop it, Stella,” | shout louder than | intended. Stella goes still for a second. “I’m not telling you who she is.” She shoves herself off me, tossing her hair over one shoulder. “You know I’m going to find out right?” | laugh. “Don’t lie to yourself.”

“You don’t have to pretend you like someone else to make me like you, Timothy,” she says, folding her arms across her chest. | know my dad is still putting you through the ringer, but since you got the best captain thing, he has to let us bet together. And you'll be on the ice as long as you'd like.”

“We will never be together,” | snort, hopping back off the leg press and heading to leave. “Stop trying to make happen. It’s not going to happen.”

is

Stella’s head tilts, almost unnaturally. “Oh yea?”

“Yea, Stella,” | say, grabbing my towel and wiping down my forehead. “It would really be a shame

| you became untouchable for the rest of the league,” she sighs. “I mean, this club can make or break your career, Timmy.”

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“You and your daddy won’t be making another cent off of me,” | snap venomously. “I’m done. After this season, I’m out. You better tell daddy to lawyer up before 1 tank this entire club for the hell of it.”

Stella laughs nervously. “What? Baby, you can’t be serious. I-”

“lam,” | say, my nerves were ice cold. This had been a long time coming. “And just so that you know. Evie? Yea. She’s the waitress you dumped that glass of wine all

over.”

“Baby, that is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard.”

“|

“Wait, Stella,” | add, stepping closer. A cruel smirk rising on my face. “You haven't even heard the best pa part.”

Stella gulps loudly. “Okay?”

“She'll be the one handling the contract termination.”

Stella’s face becomes pale.

“Don’t worry though,” | say, “I'll stay on the ice for the rest of this season. Count. your days.”

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