Page 3 of Shattered Hate

“Yeah, kinda jealous,” I huff out as I turn the incline down. Kal and I have been going hard at it in the gym since the win of the Frozen Four two weeks ago. Coach said to give ourselves a rest and bask in the celebrations, but that’s not us. We want more; we’re always hungry for more. Don’t get me wrong, I drank more alcohol in one night when we won than I would in a month, but after that, we were back at it, training hard.

Kal, Bray, and I all have AHL and even NHL scouts interested in us. That truly blows my fucking mind anytime I think about it. One of them has already spoken to Coach about me, and if that doesn’t push me to train harder, then I don’t know what will. Noone has been immediately signed, but they want to keep coming to the games and watching us when the new season starts. So all Kal and I have thought about is winning the Frozen Four again and proving it wasn’t a fluke, not that our skills don’t show exactly how good we are.

Something in the last week has been plaguing my mind. What if we get scouted for different states? I don’t know if I can leave my boys. They’re my family. Especially after what happened last year. I don’t know if I can leave Bray. He has Bohdi, but it’s not the same. Kal and I are his brothers. He needs us more than ever now. Slowing the speed down, I come to a stop while Kal huffs out a laugh.

“Slacking already?” Kal taunts, increasing the speed on the treadmill to make his point. He knows how competitive I am, and usually, his taunting works, but today, I’ve got places to be.

“I’ll meet you back here tomorrow and show you just how long I can run, but I’ve gotta go.”

“Where you going?” he asks, slowing the treadmill down and hopping off before it even stops.

“Got an appointment at the tattoo place to talk about that sleeve I want.” He nods knowingly. Since I was sixteen, I’ve talked about getting this tattoo, but I never quite had the guts to do it. Now feels like the right time.

“Cool,” he says with a nod. “I’ll see you back at the dorm.” Slapping Kal on the back, I bend down and grab my bag and towel before heading for a quick shower.

As I draw closer to the tattoo shop, excitement courses through me like an electric current. For four long years, I’ve carefully envisioned every intricate detail of this tattoo. I wish I had the talent to draw it myself, but since I don’t, I’m placing my hopes in the hands of an artist who’s been highly recommended. I’ve jotted down every single detail, but my excitement often gets the better of me, causing me to forget half of what I want to say, and I end up spewing nonsense. I might just walk out with a pig holding a puck between its teeth. And I’m pretty sure no one would even be surprised.

Standing outside the tattoo parlor, I look up at the sign, my heart pounding with anticipation. I can’t believe the moment has finally arrived. I push open the door, and the familiar buzz of tattoo guns instantly hits me from the rooms beyond the counter. My eyes dart around the room, taking in every detail. A funky red leather couch sits to the left, a vivid splash of color against the dark, brooding black walls. Graffiti-style art is spray-painted in various places, but it’s the massive image on the wall directly in front of me that stops me in my tracks.

It’s a lake with crystal-clear water, reflecting the vibrant greens and browns of the surrounding trees. The trees stand tall. Between the trees, a warm, gentle glow peeks through, casting what looks like a magical golden light over the scene. The glow could be from a rising or setting sun. I squint at it because I’m almost certain it looks familiar. Is it the sun, or is it a reflection on the water? My eyes move over it, and I can’t help but feel trapped by how simply beautiful it is. It’s like a moment frozen in time. It’s peaceful. And then there’s a quote underneath it.“Love is a paradox of life and death, keeping you alive to endure every shard of pain.”Something about those words strikes a chord inside me, and I can’t really understand what I feel when I read them.

“It’s a beautiful piece of art, isn’t it?” A deep voice interrupts my thoughts as I read the quote over and over.

“It’s fucking amazing,” I say, still caught in the art’s trance.

“The new kid done it. He’s pretty fucking talented.” I reluctantly drag my eyes away from the art and meet those of a tall, skinny guy, hair tied back in a bun on the top of his head. Tattoos cover what is visible of his body. He even has some on his face. “What can I do for you, then?”

“I have an appointment. Name’s Trayton King.”

“Ahh, yes. You’re booked in with Dom,” he says before reaching for a clipboard and placing it down in front of me.

“I need you to fill out this questionnaire and sign a few forms.” He gives me a pen, which I take from him. “Dom is just finishing up with his client, and then he’ll be ready to go through your design.” I nod absently, my eyes immediately going to the art on the wall again—the words. I sit down on the bright-red couch, forgetting about the paperwork that rests on my lap as my eyes move to the painting again. There’s a gold plaque above it with the engraving “Mystic Tealglow.”

“Is that the name of the painting?” I say to the guy behind the counter as I point to the plaque.

“Yep.” He pops thepand smiles as he becomes entranced with the painting once more. I turn my eyes, taking it in again. The name’s perfect.

“I want the new kid,” I say before I can even stop myself.

“What?”

“I-I,” I slowly move my eyes from the words. “I’m sorry. I know I asked for Dom when I first called, but the new kid…” I nod my head toward the art.

“He’s not here until next weekend.”

“That’s fine.” I nod, standing up and placing the clipboard back on the counter.

“Still complete that. I’ll give him all the details you gave Dom and call you with an appointment.”

I nod, taking back the clipboard and pen.

Once completed, I hand them back to him, and at that moment, a guy walks out of a room behind the counter.

“Dom, your appointment is canceled.”

“Cool.” He nods, his eyes sweeping me before going back to the guy behind the counter, who I don’t think ever told me his name.

“Yeah, sorry,” I say. “The new kid, he’s…” I pause, trying to find my words as my eyes look up to that piece of art that I think will forever be ingrained in my mind, and I can’t really decipher why. “He’s it,” I simply say. Dom raises his hands in surrender.

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