Never Say Never: An Enemies-to-Lovers Secret Identity New Adult Sports Romance (Western Wildcats Hockey Book 4)
Chapter 34

The past twenty-four hours circle around inside my head, and there’s nothing that makes it stop.

After leaving Britt’s apartment Sunday morning, I headed back to my house. Somehow, I’d managed to convince myself that the spotlight would shine brightly on Britt—or Bebe—and I wouldn’t have to worry about any spillover.

Ha!

That just proves what an idiot I am.

News spread through campus like wildfire. By the time I pulled up in front of the house, my phone was blowing up with messages.

Are you really hitched to Bebe?

Did you know who she was before marrying her?

Are you moving to LA?

I’m not sure what possessed me to blurt out our relationship status in front of the crowd. Had I been thinking clearly, I would have kept my big trap shut and quietly walked away.

Unfortunately, hindsight is twenty-twenty, and it’s too late for that.

The damage is done.

It took less than two hours for my parents to call and ask if I was all right. It sucked to admit that I was just as much in the dark regarding her identity as everyone else.

Dad told me not to worry. He’d already reached out to his lawyer and set the divorce wheels in motion. Even though this situation isn’t like the one in high school, all I can think about is how our name will be dragged through the mud. Gossip sites will pick up the story and run with it.

They’ll make a mockery out of my marriage.

I fucking hate that it’ll be the cause of any embarrassment for my parents.

I’ve always done my best to keep my nose clean and stay out of trouble.

Now, I look like a flaky athlete who got hitched to a reality star on a drunken weekend in Vegas.

How fucking cliche.

It’s only when a sharp whistle fills the air that I’m knocked from the thorny tangle of my thoughts as the players burst into motion.

Everyone but me.

Fuck.

Madden gains possession before passing it up to Ford who takes off, blades digging into the ice.

“Get your ass moving, McNichols,” Coach bellows from the benches.

There’s a turnover near the crease and Maverick snags the rubber disc, crossing the red center line before flicking it to Hayes. I keep pace with him, waiting for a pass.

Just as I glance away, I get hit from the side and crash into the boards. The air is knocked from my lungs as I struggle to replace my balance before dropping to the ice.

For a second or two, I lay there, trying to catch my breath. It feels like my lungs are being squeezed in a vise.

With narrowed eyes, I look up and replace Garret Akeman, a second line defenseman, staring down at me with a smirk twisting his lips.

Fucking douchebag.

And if I could wrap my lips around words, that’s exactly what I’d say.

“Maybe if you don’t make it in the pros, wifey will give you a starring role on her garbage reality show.”

Rage hits me like a freight train. In all honesty, it’s been bubbling up since I discovered the truth. I’ve been able to keep it locked up tight where it couldn’t see the light of day while it simmered.

The last thing I want to do is make an already shitty situation worse.

Except…that hit rips away the thin layer of restraint I’ve been clinging to.

Even though my body is screaming with pain, I scramble to my skates as Riggs, Hayes, Maverick, and Bridger press closer.

Tension ratchets up in the chilled arena air.

“What did you say, motherfucker?” I wheeze.

Garret sneers. “To paraphrase, I said that you suck at hockey and maybe Bebe will give you a job. You can be her himbo on the show.”

A red haze obscures my vision as I skate closer. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, and keep Britt’s name out of your damn mouth!”

Malice glitters in Garret’s eyes as he lifts his chin. “Or what, McNichols? What are you gonna do?”

I don’t bother responding to the taunt. Instead, I dive at him. My gloved fist slams into his helmet as we crash into the ice a tangle of limbs. He hits the unforgiving surface with a grunt.

Can’t say the sound isn’t satisfying.

I’ve never been one to start shit, but I’ll damn well finish it.

He lands a punch that snaps my head back and we roll a few more times before I land on top of him. That’s when he throws his gloves to the ice before trying to rip the helmet from my head.

I’m seething inside as hands reach out to drag me away. All I want to do is tear Garret Akeman apart limb by fucking limb. I buck and fight the arms that lock around me, dragging me from my teammate who’s still sprawled out on the ice.

“Settle down,” Bridger hisses in my ear.

“Damn,” Hayes mutters loud enough for me to hear.

“McNichols!” Coach bellows from the benches, his deep voice echoing off the cavernous space. “Get off my ice until you can pull yourself together!”

Other than my own harsh breathing, a blanket of heavy silence falls over the arena.

“Fuck…you really screwed the pooch this time,” Bridger mumbles with a shake of his head.

Garret glares as a few teammates assist him to his skates. With a scowl, he wipes away a smear of blood. “You’re a talentless hack riding the coattails of your father,” he growls.

When I surge forward for a second time, Hayes and Bridger tighten their grip, dragging me away.

“Go cool off in the locker room, McNichols!”

“Why are you listening to one word Akeman has to say?” Hayes grumbles. “He’s the talentless hack. Not you.”

“Fuck off, Van Doren! You’re just a piece of trash here on scholarship!”

Hayes glares, his upper lip curling. “Right back at you, asswipe.”

It takes a full sixty seconds before the haze obscuring my vision begins to clear. Only then do I glance around to replace everyone staring at me.

Including the coaching staff.

My muscles lose their rigidity as the last of my rage drains away, leaving me to feel worse than before.

“You good?” Bridger asks.

“Yeah,” I say with an embarrassed grunt.

He pats my shoulder. “Better move your ass before you get it chewed out again.”

Fuck…

I pick up my stick and force myself to skate toward the benches where the coaches are loitering before grinding to a halt in front of Reed Philips. I hate the disappointment that stares back at me.

“Go cool off and get yourself straight.”

“Sorry, Coach. It won’t happen again.”

I don’t bother waiting for a response.

What’s he going to say?

That it’s all good?

We both know it isn’t. I shouldn’t have acted like some hot-headed punk. It’s not who I am. Now that I’ve had a little time to think, I’m ashamed of my behavior. Garret Akeman runs his mouth all the time and normally, I let it roll off my back without a second thought. Sometimes, I give it right back to him.

What I don’t do is lose my shit.

Ever.

It only proves how much the situation with Britt is messing with my head.

I slam into the locker room and drop my stick in the holder before unsnapping my chin strap and yanking off the helmet. Then I drop onto the bench and plow my hands through the sweat-soaked strands.

My heart hammers against my ribcage as adrenalin drains from my body. In the silence of the locker room, I’m all too cognizant of the thoughts that circle through my brain.

I need to get all this shit off. The skates get unlaced before I toss them into my locker. The practice jersey, shoulder and elbow pads come next. Then the socks, shin pads, and pants. Once I’m standing in my cup, I rifle through my locker and replace my phone.

I open the home screen and hit Mom’s number.

She picks up on the second ring. “Hey, hon. What’s up?” There’s a pause. “Aren’t you supposed to be at practice?”

I sink to the bench as emotion bubbles up inside me. It’s been a long time since I felt this overwhelmed. I hate how paralyzing it feels.

“Yeah.”

That one-worded response is enough for her to realize there’s been a disturbance in the force.

She says something to my brothers before there’s a soft click of the door. I can just imagine her shuttering herself away in Dad’s study. “Tell me what happened, Colby.”

My shoulders wilt as I admit, “I kind of lost it at practice.”

“Lost it?”

If I hate to disappoint Coach, it’s tenfold with my parents. But there’s no way I’m going to lie or withhold the truth. That’s not the kind of relationship we have. They’ve always been my number one supporters. Even when I fuck up. They’re there to help pick me up and get me moving again.

“I got into it with Garret Akeman on the ice.”

“How come?”

I drag a hand over my face and stare at the orange and black wildcat painted above the lockers.

“Stupid stuff,” I mutter.

“Well, it couldn’t have been that stupid if you got so upset.”

The woman knows me well. It’s the reason I called. When there’s too much mental crap for me to wade through, she’s the first person I reach out to.

She’s my phone-a-friend.

My lifeline.

Every.

Single.

Time.

I squeeze my eyelids shut. “It was about Britt.”

“Ahhh.”

“Everything that’s happened has really knocked me off balance.”

“That’s understandable, Colby. Anyone going through what you are would feel the same way. It’s just going to take time.”

“I thought I knew her.” All right, maybe that’s not entirely true. I could sense from the beginning she was holding back. I just never imagined it was something of this magnitude. “This would have been easier to deal with if she’d told me the truth from the beginning.”

“Well…I can only imagine that she needed time to build trust before revealing who she really was.”

“I guess.” That acknowledgment isn’t enough to stop the hurt from flooding in.

“Have you figured out where you two go from here?”

I rest my elbows on my outstretched knees before hanging my head. “Nope.”

“What you need to decide is if you’re ready to walk away and end your relationship.”

My heart picks up tempo at the thought. “I’ve never felt this confused or torn.”

“I know, sweetie. Britt’s the first girl you’ve introduced us to since high school. You wouldn’t have done that unless you’d developed strong feelings for her.”

She’s not wrong. But still…

“The trust has been broken, and I’m not sure if it can be repaired.”

“Because she didn’t tell you who she was right away?”

“Well, yeah,” I mumble.

“Kind of seems like she might’ve had a good reason to be cautious. Look what’s happened in just twenty-four hours.” When I fail to respond, she continues. “The only advice I can give you is to think long and hard about your future and who you want to share it with.”

“Thanks, Mom. You’re right.”

“Anytime.”

“I love you.”

“Right back at you, Colby.”

After I hang up, the silence of the locker room presses in on me as our conversation circles through my brain.

Mom is right.

It all comes down to what I want my future to look like.