Page 103 of Sticks & Serpents

He didn’t argue; instead, his eyes darkened with something deeper—a mix of frustration and understanding that only made this moment heavier. He knew I was right; he had to know it deep down.

But that acknowledgment only seemed to add to the storm brewing behind those stormy blue eyes of his.

The silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. My heart raced as I waited for him to respond, wishing I could take back everything—the words we’d exchanged, the choices we had made that led us here.

“Do you really think this is going to work?” he finally asked, voice low but edged with defiance.

“I don’t know,” I admitted quietly. “But if there’s a chance…”

His jaw clenched tighter at my words as if they were an unspoken challenge. The tension simmered just beneath the surface—a fragile line we both stood on, teetering dangerously close to breaking.

And yet despite everything, I couldn’t help but cling to the hope that maybe we could still find a way forward together.

But right now? Right now felt impossibly heavy with all we had lost and everything still left unsaid.

Chapter30

Damien

Ilaced my skates with aggressive, sharp tugs, the laces biting into my fingers as I pulled them tight. Each tug sent a pulse of anger coursing through me, frustration simmering just beneath the surface. My teammates chatted and laughed around me, their voices a blur that I couldn’t bother to decipher.

I didn’t care about their banter. My blood was still boiling from the meeting with Holly’s father. My parents had tried to ruin her, and now she was paying the price for it. For me.

What kind of sick joke was this?

She didn’t know what kind of storm she was inviting into her life.

I focused back on my skates, forcing my mind to clear the clutter that threatened to drown me. But even as I tightened the final knot, the thoughts kept flooding in—my parents' calls going unanswered, their persistent attempts to reach out feeling like chains trying to drag me back into their world. A world I’d fought so hard to escape.

I didn’t need saving.

What I needed was revenge.

The alumni game loomed ahead like a ticking time bomb—a chance to show everyone just how far I’d come while reminding them who I truly was. A player who thrived on chaos and conflict, not some perfect little son molded by his parents’ expectations. I slammed my stick against the boards for emphasis, letting the sound echo around me.

“Dude! You good?” one of my teammates asked, concern etched on his face.

“Yeah,” I snapped back without looking at him. “Let’s just get this over with.”

They exchanged glances but fell back into their conversations. Their lightheartedness felt foreign now—unattainable. As if they lived in a bubble that would never pop.

I adjusted my helmet, rolling my shoulders as I stepped onto the ice. The chill hit me like a slap, a refreshing reminder I was alive, that I could still feel something beyond the chaos of my life. If I couldn’t fight them outside—my parents, their expectations—I’d fight them here. On the ice. Where I could actually hurt someone.

As I glided onto the surface, my blades cut deep into the ice, leaving behind marks that would soon fade but felt permanent in this moment. The roar of the crowd swelled around me, drowning out everything else. It surged like a tidal wave of energy, and I soaked it in.

But then I saw her.

Holly.

My heart dropped into my stomach as if gravity had suddenly intensified. She sat at the glass, front row, eyes wide and sparkling with something that twisted in my chest—a mix of anger and longing. And she was wearing my jersey. My name stretched across her back like a banner for the whole world to see.

It felt like a declaration—she was telling everyone who she belonged to.

I tightened my grip on the stick as I skated closer to her, moving past my teammates warming up with their usual banter. They faded into the background noise as her presence pulled me in like a magnet. The sight of her sent adrenaline racing through my veins, a jolt that contrasted sharply with the icy surface beneath me.

She looked beautiful and fierce, standing firm against whatever waves crashed around us.

And just like that, she became both my anchor and distraction.

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