Page 94 of These Wicked Hearts

“A clean hit! He knocked him right out.”

“Shoulder to shoulder. He had the puck. That’s hockey.” She goes back to watching.

“That’s fucking bullshit.”

“Look at you, so into hockey.”

Yeah, hockey. That’s what it is, Chen.

I drag a hand over my face, forcing myself to focus. We still have another period, but I don’t want to be here right now. All I want to do is see if he’s okay. My friend’s knee knocks into mine. “You sure you’re good? He’ll be okay, alright. Doesn’t this type of thing happen all the time?”

“Yeah.” I look down at the rink as all the players get back into formation as if one of their own didn’t just get injured. “Yeah, I know. You’re right.”

I hate hockey.

TWENTY-ONE

Gage

My apartment door slams shut behind me. I jump, the sound a lot louder than it should be rattling the walls and my chest. Jim stands between me and the door as if I might run, but he knows I won’t. He’s threatened me enough times that I know better. Lately I don’t even fight it. I don’t even care. I just don’t. Let him have me. As long as my friends are okay, I’ll survive this.

For a moment neither of us speaks. This is the second time he’s followed me home. “You embarrassed me today.”

I didn’t embarrass him, I just pushed back. I had four songs rejected today, and I’m not sure why. They’re great songs, but lately the restrictions have gotten tighter. I thought once we started making money for the label we’d have more freedom, but three years in and it’s only getting tighter.

“Gage?”

I don’t look at him. The soft tone of his voice crawls under my skin. That’s the thing about Jim. He’s never angry. He doesn’t need to be. Jim walks toward me, and I take a step back. “I didn’t mean to. Those songs were good.”

My pulse hammers in my ears the closer he gets.

“I don’t want to do this right now.”

Even after years, my body still reacts this way. “We had a deal, Gage.”

A deal. I nearly snort.

I try to run away but my legs won’t cooperate. It’s like my hardwood has turned to cement, keeping my feet here. Then his fingers are wrapped about my wrist.

“Not right now,” I whisper.

Jim smiles. Sometimes I wish he’d get angry. Scream. Fight. Yell. I don’t care. I don’t know why, this calmness sickens me. The satisfied smile. It’s like a game to him.

I can struggle, but I already know it won’t matter. It never matters. The faster I give in, the faster it’s over.

Weak. Pathetic.

The words hit hard, but they’re not the first time I’ve felt them. The fear clings to me, but I do my best to swallow it. It’s not like it’ll help.

Nothing ever does.

I feel something vibrating near my arm, and I groan as I wake up, my brain fuzzy. Somehow, I fell asleep. I open my eyes and realize my phone is still in my hand. I’d been waiting for Atlas to call me. I don’t know why. For one, why would he think to call me after getting his brain bashed into the ice? Also, he’s probably at the hospital.

I check the time and see it’s nearly eight in the morning. I sit up, still in the clothes I wore last night, as my phone vibrates again. I look and see Atlas’s name and answer. “Holy shit, are you okay?”

“You answered your phone so fast.” I hear this asshole laugh. “Wow, Gage.”

“Excuse me, motherfucker. I just watched you eat shit on the ice last night, and I didn’t know if you were even still alive.”