Page 100 of Boards & Betrayal

Before he could tighten his grip, I kneed him in the crotch. The impact made him double over, his hands releasing me as he crumpled to the ground.

"You stupid slut!" Nick groaned through clenched teeth, his face contorted in pain.

Tom's eyes darkened. He stepped forward and swung a fist, connecting with Nick's jaw. The sound of bone meeting bone echoed through the alleyway. Tom didn't stop there. He punched Nick again, and again, each blow fueled by a rage I hadn't seen before.

"You hit her, didn't you?" Tom's voice was a growl, raw and dangerous. "The other day? You motherfucker."

Nick tried to shield himself, but Tom was relentless. Each punch landed with brutal precision, and I stood there, breathing heavily but unable to move. For the first time, I saw their relationship for what it truly was—volatile and destructive. It had nothing to do with me.

It was only then I realized how small my role had been in their ongoing war. Their anger and resentment were like wildfires that had been smoldering for years, waiting for the right moment to erupt.

Tom finally stopped, chest heaving with exertion. He looked at Nick's bruised and bloodied face before turning to me. His expression softened slightly when our eyes met, but the tension in his body remained.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

I nodded, still catching my breath. "Yeah," I managed to say.

Nick lay on the ground, groaning in pain but too defeated to move. Tom turned away from him and took a step toward me. His hand reached out gently to touch my cheek where Nick's grip had left its mark.

"Let's go inside," he said softly.

I nodded again, feeling exhaustion washing over me as we walked away.

This was all my fault.

Three days had passed since the Masquerade Ball, but the images played on repeat in my mind. Tom's fists flying, Nick's bloodied face, the chaos and shouting—everything. I touched the nasty bruise on my cheek but dismissed the pain. It was nothing compared to the ache inside me.

Tom and Nick… they were destroyed because of me.

I sat on the bathroom floor, knees drawn to my chest. The stick lay flat on the counter, an unspoken accusation. I couldn’t bring myself to look at it again. Not yet.

The second I found out who Tom was, I should have stopped. I should have walked away from that night and never looked back. But I hadn’t, and now I bore the weight of this destruction.

My breath hitched as guilt clawed at me. I had come between them, shattered whatever fragile bond they had left. Tom arrested, Nick out for weeks, his NHL career hanging by a thread—it was all too much.

And now…

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the suffocating guilt. It didn’t work; nothing did. The stick on the counterscreamed for attention, but I couldn’t face it. Not with everything else collapsing around me.

This was my fault. All of it.

On top of that, I had been so stupid. Birth control wasn’t a guarantee, but I had taken the risk, anyway. It felt so good, feeling him in a way I hadn't felt anyone before. The way he groaned when he came inside me—it was like feeling whole, complete.

But now…

I sucked in a breath. I couldn’t run away from my problems. My phone rang, the loud shrill echoing in the small bathroom. I jumped.

Tom.

Again.

I wanted to answer. It took everything in me not to. What could I even say? That I didn’t want to be the reason his relationship with his son was broken? At least they had an opportunity, unlike with my dad who left without saying goodbye.

I didn't want anyone to go through that if I could help it.

The ringing stopped, and guilt weighed heavier on my chest.

I sucked in another breath.

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