Page 15 of Shattered Hate

My annoyance bubbles to the surface. I slap the puck toward the goal with unnecessary force, the loud smack echoing through the rink. I take a deep breath, attempting to regain my focus, but my eyes betray me, drawn back to Daxton. I see his brows furrow in concentration, his hand moving with swift, deliberate strokes.

“Come on, Trayton, keep your head in the game!” Kal’s voice snaps me back to reality, and I nod, shaking off my distraction. I force myself to concentrate back on the drill, but it’s no use. Every time I look over, Daxton is there, his eyes a beacon of focus.

The rest of the team continues their practice, oblivious to the silent battle I’m currently having with Daxton. My frustration mounts with each passing second, my movements becoming more aggressive—more erratic. Daxton, on the other hand,remains calm, a slight smirk playing on his lips as he sketches, as if he knows exactly the effect he’s having.

Prick.

Finally, the coach blows the whistle, signaling the end of the practice. I skate off the ice, my jaw clenched in frustration. I can feel Daxton’s eyes on me, even now, the weight of his gaze impossible to ignore.

As I grab a towel and wipe the sweat from my brow, I glance over at him one last time. His sketch pad is lowered, and our eyes lock in a silent challenge. I drag my skates back to the locker room, feeling the weight of frustration bearing down on me. Slumping down in front of my locker, I let out a heavy sigh.

“King, whatever is on your mind, fucking remove it. You played like a child throwing a tantrum today,” Coach bellows, his voice reverberating through the locker room. His words cut deep, a harsh reminder of my flaky performance.

“That’s because he is,” Kal chimes in, frowning down at me as he comes to stand beside me. His tone is laced with disdain, and I can feel the judgment radiating from him.

“Fuck off,” I snap back, my voice dripping with irritation as I lock eyes with Kal. He just rolls them—his signature move when it comes to me. I shift my gaze to Brayden, who bites his lip, trying to hold back a smile, but fails miserably as a laugh bursts out of him.

“Bray,” Kal moans, frustration clear in his tone.

“Sorry, but the way you talk to him sometimes, it’s like he’s your child who never listens, and you look like you’re at your wits’ end,” Brayden says, his laughter still bubbling up despite his attempt to stifle it.

“Well, he needs to start acting his age,” Kal mumbles as he locks eyes with mine. “You know I will always tell you how it is, but you’re not acting twenty, Tray. You’re acting like you’re sixteen again.” His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I knowexactly what he’s getting at. He’s the only one who knows about me and Bexley. I never told Brayden, and to this day, he remains in the dark. I guess I just didn’t want my relationship with Bexley to drive a wedge between me and Brayden, who I love like a brother.

I wince slightly, memories flooding back. Bexley wasn’t just my best friend; he was the person IthoughtI was in love with. It was different from the brotherly love I have for Brayden. When Bexley told me he couldn’t be with me anymore, it broke me. Seeing him kiss Daxton that day pushed me over the edge. I lost control, went to our local rink, and smashed the locker room to pieces. I skated like a madman, whacking pucks around the rink with recklessness.

Some people saw me on my rampage, and someone called Kal. Thankfully, they didn’t contact Brayden. In my psychotic state, I doubt I could have beared to see his face. It was too much like Bexley. They had their differences, and once you knew them, you could tell them apart—but they were identical twins. Even if I knew it was Brayden, I don’t know what I would have said at that moment.

Kal was there in an instant, calming me, skating with me, playing hockey with me, not saying anything, just waiting for me to calm down. In the end, I told him everything. He was shocked and surprised how well we hid it. I told him about Bexley leaving me for Daxton, and Daxton clearly loving every minute of it from the way he watched me over Bexley’s shoulder. I told him that day I was going to end Daxton, but Kal, being Kal, talked me down off the ledge. He said there would be other guys; I was only sixteen. Somehow, he tamed my manic mind.

I held back.

I stayed away.

I never gave Daxton a second glance.

I never said another word to Bexley again. And that’s the one thing I regret. He hurt me. He fucking crushed me.

He was concrete proof that day that everyone leaves you in the end, and that’s something I will never forget.

But Kal was right. Life went on, people moved on, and it didn’t hurt anymore.

I forgave Bexley. We were young, but my stubbornness stopped me from telling him I forgave him, and then when he was putting Brayden through it, I couldn’t help but be angry at him again. I saw how much he was crushing Brayden. He was good at hurting people without even realizing it.

Snapping myself back, Kal gazes down at me and gives me a tight smile.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean—” I cut him off, raising my hand.

“It’s cool.”

Kal opens his mouth to say something, but my phone suddenly interrupts him. My gaze shifts to the screen, and instantly, all my previous frustrations evaporate. Excitement surges through me as I see the tattoo shop’s name flashing on the display.

“Hello?” I answer eagerly, standing and walking out of the locker room.

“Trayton?” a voice on the other end says.

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“Great, it’s Max from Bold Impressions. The artist wants to play around with your designs based on what you’ve shared and was wondering if you could come in next weekend.”

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