Page 24 of Shattered Hate

He stretches his arms above his head and bends from side to side. “Look.” He drops his arms and continues, “Just because Trayton has some issue with you doesn’t mean everyone does. You’re not a hated person, Dax,” he says softly, trying to reassure me. “I have no reason to hate you, so why would I just because my friend does? Especially when he won’t even tell me what your supposed wrongdoing is and just spews some bullshit about you selling drugs. He tried getting the team to hate you, but they all just laughed. It’s all nonsense.”

My body tenses at the mention of drugs. “I don’t anymore,” I quickly interject.

Cope raises his hand in defense. “I know. I know,” he urges. “What happened wasn’t your fault, Dax.” His words hit me hard, causing a lump to form in my throat. He doesn’t need to say whathe means; we both know that it’s about Bex. It’s something that haunts me every day and something I blame myself for. “Just because you come from a shitty family doesn’t make you a bad person.” Cope smiles warmly at me. “Brayden is living proof of that, and so are you.”

I nod, feeling grateful for his words. “Thanks,” I say sincerely. It’s a relief to know that not everyone blames me for everything my family has done.

“Speaking of Trayton,” Cope starts to say before I quickly cut him off.

“Let’s not,” I say tensely.

A mischievous glint appears in Cope’s eyes as he teasingly points out, “I saw you blush earlier.” Cope completely ignores me and begins talking. “He was like, ‘Oh my god, have you seen how perfectly he captured what I wanted? It’s incredible. It’s going to look amazing,’” Cope continues, causing me to abruptly stand and head to the bathroom. I just want him to stop talking.

“Dax.” Cope’s teasing voice follows me.

“Just taking a shower,” I quickly reply as I grab the handle.

“Daxtonnn.” He drags out my name playfully. “Look at me.”

“Piss off,” I mumble under my breath, slamming the door. I stand in front of the mirror and stare at my flushed cheeks, just wishing the guy wouldn’t have this effect on me.

“Not again, Dax. Not again.”

Chapter twelve

Trayton

My eyes lock onto the puck, gliding alongside my stick as I tear up the ice with a burst of speed. The cold air bites at my cheeks, but my focus remains unbroken. I keep my gaze down, tracking the puck’s every move, but I steal quick glances to my left, sensing Cope closing in on me. He’s fast, but not fast enough. They never are.

A triumphant grin spreads beneath my helmet as I fake left, then right, my skates carving sharp turns into the ice. Snowy shards spray into Cope’s path as I blaze past him with a burst of acceleration. I draw my stick back, muscles coiling in anticipation, ready to unleash a powerful slap shot. Just as I’m about to strike, a force slams into me from the side, driving me into the boards.

“Fuck,” I mutter through gritted teeth as I crash into the side. The impact reverberates through my body—not as hard as it could have been, but enough to rattle me. I catch a glimpse of Kalskating by with a smirk. The puck deftly controlled on his stick as he races down to the other end of the rink.

Determination flares within me, and I clench my jaw, propelling myself back up the ice with renewed energy. The chill of the rink fades into the background as my focus narrows. I’m not giving up that puck without a fight.

Kal speeds down the rink, but I’m hot on his heels. I see an opening and push myself harder, my skates cutting sharp lines into the ice. Kal’s got skill, so fucking much of it. But I have the speed.

As I’m closing in, I catch Daxton’s eye on the sidelines. His presence annoys me, a distraction I don’t need, but I force myself to ignore it. Just as Kal’s about to take his shot, I intercept him with a perfectly timed body check. He loses balance, and the puck slips away. I swiftly scoop it up and head back toward their goal, hearing my friends cheer and shout. It’s a friendly competition, but the adrenaline rush is real. We’re always told to treat it like a real game. When in training, our team is our competition. The minute training is over. We’re a team. It’s something Coach drummed into us and made it clear that us being a team is just as important, but we need the practice. Not many coaches agree with this approach, but that’s Denny.

He’s different. And we all like it. He’s a good coach.

With the net in my sights, I sneak a glance to my side—but Cope is there too. When did he get so fast? Keeping my focus, I pull my stick back and watch it slice cleanly between Jennings’s legs.

I raise my helmet and speed toward Kal, doing a silly dance around him because I know how much he absolutely loves it.Not. He grunts and gives me a shove, trying to knock me over, but I manage to stay on my feet as always. Brayden skates over, breathless. “It’s not normal how fast you are, Tray. I couldn’t even keep up with you,” he says.

“It’s a tough life being a god.” I shrug sarcastically. As I turn on my skates in a circle again, my eyes catch on to Daxton, whose smile drops, and his eyes dart away from mine. Why the fuck is he looking at me and smiling? I skid to a stop on my skates, sending small ice shavings up Brayden’s leg. I grit my jaw, staring at Daxton, waiting to see if he looks at me again, but he doesn’t. He keeps his head down and then gets his phone out. He frowns down at his phone for a moment, rubbing his hand over his face. Once. Twice. Then he runs his hands through his hair. He looks up, but he’s not looking at me. Or is he? His eyes look like they are looking in twenty different places at once.

It’s chaotic.

It’s panic.

It’s pure fucking fear.

I huff and look away at Brayden and Kal, who stare at me, move their focus to Daxton, and then back to me.

“What?” I frown, crossing my arms. Brayden glances at Kal, and Kal gazes back at Brayden. Kal raises his eyebrows like they’re talking through a secret sign language only they know. “What?” I spew again. They both look at me. Kal’s lips twitch as Brayden rubs his hand over his mouth, clearly trying to hide his smirk.

He failed miserably.

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