Page 3 of Ruled Out

And play hockey.

Because that’s all I have left. The only time I feel relevant—and more than the worthless piece of shit my father repeatedly reminded me I was—is when I’m on the ice. That’s why I’m still here, living, breathing, playing, and surviving. There’s no doubt he’d prefer I was six feet under, but my presence is like a bigfuck youto him and a safety net for my mom. To provide for her in the best way I can.

So, my option? Simple. Do what I do every fucking day—brush my teeth three times over, rinse my mouth with the strongest wash I can find, and pretend like nothing happened. That, the previous night, I wasn’t considering the benefits of my absence in this world.

But above all else?

Pretend like Mia Jenkins wasn’t the only person in my life I didn’t want to hide away from. Even though, in the end, that’s exactly what I did.

Pretend like I’m not still in love with her. That I didn’t fuck up my life four years ago and abandon the only light that shone into the darkest depths of my existence.

Instead, I pretend like I didn’t push away someone who had given me the one thing I’d craved my whole life—love. Or the kind of stability my parents should’ve offered.

I push it all down and drink. Because that makes way more sense.

CHAPTER TWO

MIA

Although there are a ton of people in this bar, it sure feels like the loneliest place on earth.

New Year’s Eve is not a night I like to celebrate, so I compromised and said I’d come out the night before, and that’s why I’m here. But had I known I’d be spending it with half of some random guy’s beer on my shoes and the Scorpions game on every surrounding screen, I’d have politely backed out of Tara’s invitation.

I know I need to make an effort. Despite being a freshman, I’m almost four years older than most of my classmates, though I’m pretty sure they’ve experienced going out to more bars than I have in my lifetime.

Daddy’s girl.

That’s what I am, and I’m painfully aware of it. The daughter of former NHL star Graham Jenkins and the girl who ran off to another city to study for her dream career—the first time I ever did what my dad didn’t want. The second I graduated from high school, he wanted me working alongside him, learning the ropesand moving toward a time when I’d ultimately take over for him after his retirement. That was Dad’s dream and never mine. And when I told him I’d applied to college and gotten in, he was pissed, determined I was making a huge mistake I’d eventually regret.

So, I have to make a go of this. I need to prove to not only him, but also to me that I can make decisions and stick to them. Running back to Daddy in Dallas is not an option.

Even though Dad doubts it, I didn’t deliberately choose this college for any other reason than my education. He thinks it’s highly convenient for me to be based in the same city as his former superstar winger, who won’t leave the damn TV screen above my head. Washington University happens to offer one of the leading undergraduate courses in America, and that’s what I told him. I also told him he would be doing me a disservice if he thought I was choosing a college to be close to a boy who wanted to be anything but near me.

Because he doesn’t.

But this man standing next to me as Tara, Hugh, Leo, and I sit at the bar clearly doesn’t have an issue with personal space—or invading it for that matter.

He does realize that practically sitting on my lap won’t improve his view of the game, right?

The friends I’m out with tonight are more like acquaintances. I guess I’m closest to Tara, but it’s hard to get to know anyone fully after only one semester.

And I don’t trust easily.

“Goddamn, he’s fucking fast,” Leo shouts over at us as he points at number forty-four, who’s flying down the ice with the puck.

I remember when that jersey was orange instead of black, white, and gray.

I remember how unique and spicy his cologne was as it wrapped around me. I can still smell it now. I can still feel his lips pressed against mine. I’d kissed boys before, but the way he kissed me, the way he made me feel, it was everything.

“Mia?”

Blinking rapidly, I come to, and the noisy bar begins ringing in my ears. “Huh?”

I twist my stool around to face Leo, who points at my wineglass.

“Another?”

I shake my head as his gaze lingers on me for a second too long. Shit, can he tell I’m upset?

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