Page 35 of Boots & Scars

"What is your problem?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly. "Are you mad I touched you? I'm sorry, okay? I should have asked for permission?—"

Shewas apologizing?

I grabbed her shoulders, my fingers digging into her soft skin. "Get. Out," I said again, my voice a low growl.

She looked into my eyes, her gaze unwavering despite the fear I saw flickering in their depths. My fingers gripped her tighter, bruising her delicate flesh.

"Fine," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She pulled away from me, breaking free from my grasp.

"Don't come back here," I said, my tone cold and unforgiving.

"Mr. Cooper?—"

"Don't call me that!" I shouted, my anger boiling over. "Don't call me anything, understand me?" I was yelling now, my voice echoing off the walls of the rink. "Get your skates off and get the fuck out."

Everly's eyes filled with tears, but she clenched her teeth, refusing to let them fall. She walked back down to the bench and unlaced her skates, her movements stiff and mechanical.

I wished she would yell at me, scream at me, tell me what a bastard I was. But she remained silent, and somehow, that silence cut deeper than any words ever could.

She deposited the skates on the counter and headed back into the locker room.

I stood there, my fists clenched at my sides, my heart pounding in my chest. A part of me wanted to go after her, to apologize for my outburst, to try to make things right. It was a foreign feeling, this urge to seek forgiveness. I couldn't remember the last time I had felt the need to apologize to anyone.

But I refused to give in to that impulse. I couldn't let myself be vulnerable, couldn't allow her to see the broken man beneath the scars and the anger. It was better this way, better for her to hate me.

I walked over to the bench and sat down heavily, my head in my hands. The memory of her gentle touch lingered on my skin, a ghostly reminder of the compassion I didn't deserve. I hated how much I craved it, how much I longed for the warmth of her acceptance.

But I knew it was a lie, a cruel trick of fate. No one could ever truly love me, not with the darkness that consumed my soul. I was a lost cause, a broken shell of a man who had nothing to offer but pain and heartache.

I heard the locker room door open and close, signaling her departure. A part of me wanted to run after her, to beg for her forgiveness, to tell her I was sorry for everything. But I remained rooted to the spot, my pride and fear holding me back.

We were both better off this way. I would continue on my path of self-destruction, wallowing in the misery that had become my constant companion.

I stood up, my legs feeling heavy and unsteady. I walked over to the rink, staring out at the empty ice. It was a fitting metaphor for my life—cold, empty, and devoid of any warmth or light.

I knew I had to let her go, to push her away before I dragged her down into the abyss with me. It was the only way to protect her, to keep her safe from the demons that haunted my every waking moment.

11

Everly

Ididn't return to Pandora's Box the rest of the week. After what happened with Cooper, I stayed away.

But I was miserable.

Not skating left a gaping hole in my chest. I tried to focus on my studies, burying myself in textbooks and notes, but my mind kept drifting back to the rink. The feel of the cool air on my skin, the satisfying scrape of blades against ice, the rush of adrenaline as I pushed myself faster and faster.

Skating made me feel alive in a way nothing else did. It was an escape from the suffocating expectations of my mother, from the pressure to be perfect all the time. On the ice, I could just… be.

But now, without it, everything felt dull and lifeless. I went through the motions of my days—getting textbooks for next quarter, helping Holly study, eating—but it all seemed pointless. What was the point of any of it if I couldn't do the one thing that brought me joy?

I knew I was being dramatic. It wasn't like I'd never skate again. But right then, it felt like my whole world hadcome crashing down around me. I couldn't stop replaying that moment with Cooper over and over in my head—the way his scars felt, the anger because I told him the truth.

I didn't know what to make of him. He was gruff and aloof, but there was a kindness to him too. A protectiveness that made me feel safe, even as it unnerved me.

I shook my head, trying to dispel thoughts of amber eyes and strong hands. I needed to focus on the last quarter before summer, on getting through this week.

But deep down, I knew I couldn't stay away from Pandora's Box forever. Skating was a part of me now, and sooner or later, I'd find my way back to the ice.

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