Page 20 of Boots & Scars

I'd heard the rumors, of course. Whispers in the halls about the young professor and his student. Judging by the enticing school uniform she wore, the gossip seemed to be true. They were definitely in a relationship.

Huh.

I watched them for a moment, a strange mix of emotions swirling in my gut. If someone like Fury Bradley could find someone, then maybe...

No.

I shook my head, tearing my gaze away from the couple. I refused to let myself get suckered into this again. Love was a trap, a pretty lie that only led to pain and betrayal. I'd learned that lesson the hard way with Ashley.

I put the car in park and stepped out, slamming the door behind me with more force than necessary. The sound echoed through the quiet neighborhood, a harsh reminder of my presence.

As I made my way inside, I couldn't shake the image of Connor and his student from my mind. It was like a splinter, digging deeper with every step.

Damn it.

I needed a drink.

I stepped into my new teaching housing, the scent of fresh paint still lingering in the air. Dark oak furniture filled the space, the rich hues contrasting against the pristine white walls. The hardwood floors gleamed beneath my feet, not a single scuff or scratch marring their surface. It was all so new, so untouched—a stark reminder of the life I was supposed to be living now. A life where I was a mentor, a guide to the next generation of whatever the fuck those kids were. But as I stood there, surrounded by the trappings of this new role, I couldn't shake the feeling that it was all a facade. A mask I was forced to wear, hiding the broken pieces of the man I used to be.

I made my way down to the basement, my footsteps echoing on the wooden stairs. The bar was fully stocked, a glittering array of bottles promising oblivion. I reached for the whiskey—Mulholland Distilling American Whiskey. The amber liquid sloshed in the bottle as I poured a generous glass.

"Hmm," I grunted, the sound harsh in the stillness of the room.

I knocked back the whiskey, the burn of it searing my throat. The taste was smoky and complex, with hints of vanilla and caramel. It was a damn good whiskey, the kind that could make you forget your troubles for a while.

And I needed to forget everything.

But as the warmth of the alcohol spread through my veins, I knew it was only a temporary reprieve. The ghosts of my past were always there, waiting in the shadows.

I poured another glass, the amber liquid catching the light. I swirled it around, watching as it clung to the sides of the glass. How many nights had I spent, drowning my sorrows in a bottle? Too many to count.

But tonight, the whiskey tasted different. Bitter, like the ashes of a life that had gone up in flames. I thought of Ashley, of the venom in her voice as she demanded what she thought shewas owed. I thought of Damien, skating across the ice with an ease I envied. I thought of the Titans, their laughter a mocking reminder of everything I'd lost.

I drained the glass, the burn of the whiskey no longer a comfort. It was just another way to numb the pain, to pretend that I wasn't a washed-up has-been with nothing left to lose.

I set the glass down on the bar with a heavy thud; the sound echoing in the emptiness of the room. The house was too quiet, too still. It was like a mausoleum, a monument to a life that had long since passed me by.

I needed to get out of here, to escape the suffocating weight of my own failures. But where could I go? The ice was the only place that had ever felt like home, and even that had been taken from me.

7

Everly

Pencil down, I let out a long breath and handed my American History final to the proctor, a smile barely concealed on my face. Stepping through the large, oak doors of the lecture hall, I felt the weight of pages and study nights lift off my shoulders. Holly had promised to meet me here when she finished, and while I waited, my gaze wandered across campus.

March had brought a shroud of overcast skies, yet the world around me buzzed with life as if in defiance of the somber clouds. Students walked the paths, their laughter and chatter punctuating the air like bird's singing. Fresh buds peeked from branches that only weeks ago were skeletal fingers reaching for a sun hidden by winter's grey. The greenery, tender and vibrant, carpeted the grounds, hinting at nature's impending reclamation.

My eyes traced the paths crisscrossing like veins across the university's heart. Each one led to some nook or cranny I hadn't explored yet; corners of knowledge and experience that seemed so much more accessible now that finals were behind me.

I hugged my jacket tighter around me as a breeze swept through, carrying whispers of coming warmth. In its wake, thoughts of Zack and last night's encounter skated into my mind unbidden. His invitation to that party—was it just friendly or something more? My stomach fluttered as if it harbored its own ecosystem, tiny butterflies taking flight at the mere memory of his smile.

Could Zack be...?

The question hung in my mind, unfinished and fragile like a bubble in the wind. A guy like him—charming and easygoing—what would he see in someone who spent more time with books than at social gatherings? But he had seen me there, on the ice, where I felt most alive.

Although, I wasn't sure if he actually saw me skate, and maybe that was a good thing.

My lips curved into a private smile. The thought of stepping out into a scene I'd only ever read about or seen through screens—it was both exhilarating and terrifying. A party could be a chance to spread wings I wasn't even sure I possessed.

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