Page 41 of Shattered Hate

“What?” I ask, my voice betraying my confusion.

His eyes narrow slightly as he inquires, “What were you doing lying on the ice, Daxton?”

I start to protest, “I told you, I needed—” but he cuts me off, his tone flat and matter-of-fact. “You were crying.”

I grit out, “I was cold.” Even though I know it hardly qualifies as a good enough excuse for the well of tears I spilled. At that moment, I silently plead for the floor to just swallow me whole, erasing my vulnerability.

Trayton tilts his head, squinting as if trying to decipher a secret code hidden behind my eyes. Somehow, despite knowing he’s the last person I should confide in, the moment of us here alone makes me want to tell him everything, and I hate it. Even though exposing my inner turmoil makes me feel raw and exposed—and he always seems to relish that—I can’t hold back any longer.

After a long pause, I admit, “I was thinking about Bexley, and I’ve been trying to come to terms with some things.” It’s all I can say, even though my gut screams that I shouldn’t overshare. Not with him.

For a moment, his head dips in silent contemplation before he asks softly, “What things?”

I lift my gaze, locking eyes with his, and a surge of emotion twists inside me. It’s maddening how his eyes have the power to flip my stomach, a familiar sensation that mimics free-falling from a dizzying height. There’s a rush—a dangerous thrill—knowing that when you stare deeply into those eyes, your safety net shatters, leaving you to plummet into the cold, unyielding reality of him.

I blink rapidly and fix my eyes on my trembling hands before whispering, “Just my future and what I deserve.” Trayton’s intense gaze remains fixed on me; his jaw tightens, and after a brief pause, he slowly nods and challenges, “And what do you deserve?”

“Not a lot,” I reply instantly, the words tumbling out before I can hold them back.

A low, mirthless laugh escapes him as he pushes off, skating in a graceful circle. He returns to stand directly in front of me, then casually runs his gloved hands through his disheveled hair.

“I don’t know what happened for you to come here, but…” He pauses, his brow furrowing deeply, and his jaw clenches as if the words he’s about to say physically cause him pain. “But…” He hesitates again, the silence stretching between us. “You’ve just got to dust yourself off and move on. Pick yourself back up and keep going.” He fires it back at me so quickly that it takes me a moment to process his unexpected kindness. Why is he being nice to me?

I bite my lip, lowering my head as a smile threatens to break free, but I know that smiling around Trayton wouldn’t be good for me. Then I hear the soft humming as he begins to glide in circles on the rink. He’s actually humming to a song, his head bobbing slightly, and then his voice breaks free, belting out the lyrics to god knows what as he skates by.

And there it is. The smile is let loose as I watch him, his carefree energy filling the space. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this before. His eyes catch mine, and though I can’t suppress the grin, I duck my head, grateful for the hood that hides most of my face. My cheeks burn crimson, as usual.

That’s when my smile falters, and I glance up to see Trayton staring at me as if he’s seen a ghost. His eyes are wide, his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard, and he stands there, frozen. Then he shakes his head, and the look vanishes.

What was that about?

He skates over to the side where his gear is, grabs his sneakers, and then he’s gone, leaving me sitting there in his sweatshirt, wondering what the fuck just happened.

Chapter twenty-one

Daxton

One month later

“Please come out with us,” Cope whines next to me. I’ve turned into a complete hermit since my date a month ago. I don’t know why, but it put me in a bit of a funk. That and my phone constantly ringing with a private number.

One guess as to who that is.

If I’m not in classes or doing my art project with the hockey team, I’m in my dorm, sitting in bed.

Trayton has barely looked at me since the day on the ice. Since he was semi-nice to me. He even canceled our tattoo session, saying he had plans that he couldn’t move.

I want to get it finished because I can’t wait to see how good it looks, but not having Trayton coming at me or saying something that just pisses me off has been quite refreshing. I won’t lie.

I didn’t take his advice. I didn’t dust myself off or even forget about it. I kept thinking about the date, going over and over in my head what I did wrong.

I’m not good at being around people or even having friends, for that matter. I’ve only ever had one, and the people I have been around haven’t exactly been very nice. I thought me and Ashton were getting along. I thought I could do this whole dating thing.

Obviously not.

Cope is still raging about it. He keeps asking me questions about Ashton. He’s trying hard to find out where he works. I pray with everything that he’s never successful.

I’ve begged him countless times to let it go, but he just can’t stop bringing it up. Like right now.

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