Page 57 of Redeeming the Villain

Griffin leans in closer to me, his voice soft yet firm. “Bro, I know this is a bad time for you, okay? And I get that. But you can’t keep lashing out at Alora and especially not at Blair. There’s only so much I’m going to let you get away with.”

Everything inside of me is shutting down. Every emotion and sense of security. I’m a fortress, and even he isn’t getting past my walls.

“Then maybe she should stay out of my and Alora’s business,” I snap, turning my head to fully face him.

He bares his teeth. “Mal.” He pauses and takes a quick breath. “Get your shit. You’re coming with me.”

“The hell I am.” I scoff. “We have class.”

“Shut up. Stop pretending like you actually care. You can get notes from Ash or D.” He groans and runs his hand down his face. “For once in your goddamn life, just cooperate.”

I consider his offer for a moment. I mean, I would rather be anywhere else but sitting in this boring-ass class right now, especially with the rage pulsing in my veins.

“Fine,” I concede, grabbing my backpack and rising to my feet.

Storming out of the room, I rush outside into the gloomy, cold weather and scurry down the steps, stopping at the bottom as I wait for Griffin to catch up.

A moment later, he bursts through the door and joins me.

“What’s your grand plan?”

“Stop being a smart-ass, Malik. I’m trying to help you.” He grinds his words out as he passes. “Now hurry the fuck up.”

“Where are we going?” I stride after him, less enthusiastically as him.

“To the rink. I figure there’s no place I feel more at home. It’s the same for you. And if you need to hit something to get some of that anger out, you can hit me. I can take it.” He keeps walking forward toward the arena without looking back.

I follow behind him as we walk to Kensington Arena, the campus arena, paid for by Asher and Dean‘s family, where we quickly lace up and get on the empty ice in just our hoodies and joggers, no gear.

Twisting my stick in my hands, I smack it on the ice lightly, and he passes a puck to me. We skate around silently, passing the puck back and forth and shooting it into the net every now and then.

We understand each other here, like we’re speaking a different language—hockey. Every hockey player feels at peace on the ice. We may feel a lot of other things during games or practice, but it feels right either way, like this is where we’re meant to be.

Guilt strikes me like an arrow as the adrenaline in my veins begins to dissipate. I don’t deserve a friend as good as him. Especially with how I just spoke to his girl.

Coming to a stop, I look up at him. “Griffin, I’m sorry, man. I’ll apologize to Blair too; don’t worry. But I’m sorry. I’ve been a real pain in the ass.”

He chuckles. “That’s an understatement. But we put up with your shit because we love you, man.”

He waits, leaving a moment of silence for me to decide if I want to stay quiet or share more. I choose the latter.

“Look …” I bite down on my bottom lip, still hesitant to tell anyone the truth about Alora.

Gliding toward the bench, I lean down on the board, resting against my arms.

“Malik, whatever you need to say, say it. I, of all people, won’t ever judge you. You know that. Just talk to me.” He skates over and mimics me, leaning against the board.

“Fuck,” I inaudibly whisper, rubbing my eyes with frustration that I can’t even form one word about it. “It’s complicated.”

“I know I’m not the smartest guy ever, but do your best. I’ll try to keep up.”

He grins at me, and I chuckle hauntingly.

“Alora and I went to high school together.” I spin around and lean backward against the divider. “She transferred during her senior year.” I scoff. “You know, I actually kind of liked her at first.” I swallow hard. “But then I learned who she really was, the daughter of Congressman Briarwood.”

He pushes off against the board and leans back beside me as I continue, “I’ve never told anyone this, Griffin. You have to keep it between us.”

He studies me for a moment, realizes I’m being dead serious, and nods. “Of course.”

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