Page 33

Chapter 33

Ginny

I hurried home last night, not wanting to risk running into the guys. Not because I didn’t want to see them—I always want to see them—but because the moment I laid eyes on them, the overwhelming urge to run to them, throw my arms around them and hold them close, would be too strong to resist. And that wouldn’t sit well with my father. Not until I finally work up the nerve to talk to him. Not until I tell him that I love them, that I no longer want to skate with Antony, and that the bastard has done nothing but make my life miserable.

The need to be honest with my father looms over me like a weight. Dad needs to know the truth and I need, no, I deserve to be happy. And being with the guys is what does that.

If Antony gets his way, he’ll convince my dad to lock me in my room, making sure the only thing I ever do is skate. Or worse, convince my father that he should date me. My stomach rolls at that thought, and I have to fight back the urge to vomit.

I left the rink as soon as the team cleared the ice, ducking out before I could run into them. But as I step outside, my breath hitches. A dark figure stands tucked in the shadows just beyond the exit, sending a shiver down my spine. I didn’t need to see his face to know who it was. Antony.

My pulse pounds as I move swiftly through the small crowd outside, making a beeline for my car. I don’t let out the breath I’m holding until I’m safely inside, doors locked, engine roaring to life. I have successfully avoided both Antony and my father.

My phone buzzes the entire ride home.

When I come to a red light, I pick it up and peek to see who it is.

Carter.

I smile as I swipe open the message.

Carter: You ok Pixie?

Carter: You bolted out of there like the building was on fire. I was hoping to see you when we came out of the locker room.

I bite my lip, debating how much to tell him before deciding on the truth.

Me: Didn’t want to run into my dad. Or Antony.

Carter’s response comes fast.

Carter: That fucker still bothering you?

Me: I’d rather not talk about him. The three of you played amazing tonight.

Carter: I’ll let it slide for now. But if he’s bothering you, I, no we want to know.

I sigh, not wanting to carry on talking about Antony. It’s a sore subject and if they truly knew how bad it was getting with Antony, I know without a doubt they’d confront him. That’s not something I’m ready to deal with, not yet anyway.

Instead, I send a message to Chase and Blake, telling them how amazing they played. Minutes pass. No response. My heart deflates slightly, wondering if I’d said something wrong.

Carter: Can you sneak out tonight? I’ll come get you. I’d rather be with you than here at the bar celebrating with the team.

Bar. My heart drops. But why? Why shouldn’t they be out celebrating? It was a huge win for them, pushing them closer to the Frozen Four tournament in April.

Me: I wish I could but I have practice in the morning. Besides you know how my dad’s been up my ass.

Me: Trust me though, I’d much rather be with the 3 of you.

Carter: We’d want that to.

Carter: I miss you.

Carter must’ve sensed my mood shifting because he prodded me again.

Carter: Pixie is something else wrong besides your dad and Antony?

I hesitate, not wanting to answer, to confess I’m upset that Blake and Chase haven’t answered me yet.

But finally admit I’m feeling a little off.

Me: It’s stupid really.

Carter: Your feelings are never stupid. Talk to me.

I huff before typing out what's wrong.

Me: I messaged Chase and Blake and they didn’t answer me.

That’s when he told me.

Carter: Pixie it has nothing to do with you. It’s also why I’m out of the house tonight.

Carter: Blake and Chase are together right now. They’re taking the next step.

My heart soars . This is huge. Not just for them, but for us . It means things are real, it means they are solidifying their relationship even more. Any lingering doubts I have melt away.

Me: They are? That’s amazing.

The rest of the night passes in a dreamlike haze, and I fall asleep with a smile on my face.

The blaring sound of my alarm shatters the peace, and I groan, blindly reaching to silence it. My body feels like lead as I force myself to sit up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

Saturday morning practice. Why the hell does my dad insist on this? You’d think that after a big game, he’d cancel this god-awful early morning training session and opt for some much needed sleep. Then casually wake up around eleven and have brunch or read the paper while he drinks his coffee and eats some fattening desert. But nope—not Matt Lein.

I sigh heavily, ready to drag myself out of bed when a thought hits me. I don’t want to be here tonight. I want to be with them. Chase. Carter. Blake. I want to cuddle up with the three of them while we watch some corny television show.

My pulse kicks up as I shoot out of bed, crossing the room in hurried steps. I take out a bag from my closet and stuff it with clothes. One night. I should be able to have that. I’m twenty years old, for fuck’s sake.

Moving to the door, I turn the knob carefully, wincing when it creaks. I freeze, listening. Praying no one heard.

Nothing. The house is silent.

And I say a little prayer of thanks.

I tiptoe down the hall, heart pounding, hoping to avoid my dad or—worse—Antony. When I finally make it out the front door, I let out a shaky breath.

Freedom.

The drive to the rink is peaceful, my favorite music blasting through the speakers. No traffic, no distractions. Just me and the open road. Before I know it, I’m pulling into the parking lot, finding it completely empty.

Perfect.

I grab my bag with my skates and head inside, my footsteps echoing in the quietness. I make my way down to the chairs at the edge of the ice and take a seat. I don’t waste any time putting on my skates, lacing them up, then stepping onto the ice.

A sigh of contentment leaves my lips as I glide forward. This is what I love. The feeling of weightlessness, the sound of my blades cutting through the ice, the freedom that comes with every turn and jump. Here, I wasn’t Matt Lein’s daughter. I wasn’t Antony’s partner. I was just Ginny. And I loved it. I didn’t have to meet anyone’s expectations of who I'm supposed to be.

For a while, I just skate. Not practicing. Not focusing on technique. Just moving freely about the ice.

Eventually, I come to a stop near the edge of the rink, and step off onto the floor, picking up my bag, and taking out my water bottle. The second I lift it to my lips, a voice cuts through the silence, sending a shiver of unease down my spine.

“Well, well,” Antony drawls. “Look at you, up bright and early. Can’t get enough, huh?”

My body goes still, but I don't look up at him.

“I saw you at the game last night,” he continues, stepping closer. “Which one of the guys on the team are you fucking?”

My fingers curl around the bottle, gripping it tightly. Slowly, I look up at him, leveling him with a glare. “I came to see my dad in action. Do you have a fucking problem with that?”

Antony’s lips twist into a smirk. “Likely story. You came to fuck someone. Or is it someones?” His eyes rake over me with sick amusement. “Spreading those milky thighs wide, letting any of those scumbag assholes have their way with you. Wonder what your dad would think of you being such a whore.”

My stomach turns, rage bubbling in my chest. “You’re disgusting,” I grit through my teeth.

He lunges forward, grabbing my arm, his fingers digging in painfully as he yanks me toward him. I let out a painful gasp, struggling to pull away, but he’s stronger. “Soon you’ll be my little whore.”

“I’m done with this,” I hiss, my voice shaking with fury. “I don’t even want to skate with you anymore. And I plan to tell my dad.”

His grip tightens, his face transforming into something darker. “Like fuck you will,” he growls. “If you do, I’ll tell him exactly what you are—a fucking whore .”

Panic flares in my chest as I struggle harder against his hold, barely able to keep my balance. “Let go of me, Antony! You’re fucking hurting me!”

“No,” he growls at me. “Not until you stop this nonsense. You’re my ticket to the Olympics.”

“I’m going to tell him,” I lash out at him, my voice laced with defiance.

“You’re not telling him shit. You’re taking me to the Olympics, slut.”

A deep, rumbling voice cuts through the rink, making both of us freeze.

“Oh, I beg to differ.”

Antony’s body goes rigid, and he slowly turns his head to look over his shoulder, shifting his body enough to the side that I’m able to see past him to the person laying witness to our encounter.

My father stands just behind Antony, a murderous glint in his eyes.

Antony’s whole demeanor changes in an instant. “Matt,” he says, his voice taking on a nervous edge as he tries to regain his composure.

My father’s gaze burns into him. “Let go of my daughter.”

Antony hesitates, but the warning in my father’s tone is enough. He drops my arm, and I stumble back, dropping to the floor and frantically begin ripping off my skates and putting on my shoes. I already have an idea how this is going to go and I need to be prepared.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing putting hands on my daughter?” my dad demands.

Antony recovers quickly, plastering a fake smile on his face. “Matt, if you only knew what she was doing.” My father’s eyes flick to mine, processing Antony’s words.

I stare at him, my heart pounding as I slowly stand. “Dad, he’s been using me to get to the Olympics. He talks like this to me all the time. That last comp he hurt me during our routine and that’s why I wobbled. I don’t want to skate with him anymore.”

“She’s been whoring herself out to the guys on your team. I was just trying to talk some sense into her before you showed up,” Antony argues.

My father’s jaw tightens. “Is that true?”

My stomach twists. He’s taking Antony’s word over mine. Believing him before ever giving me a chance to explain anything. This isn’t how I wanted my dad to find out about the guys. Not in the cheap way that Antony’s portraying our relationship.

Then I see it. The smug look on Antony’s face. He thinks he’s won. That he’s successfully turned all of this on me so that my dad will forget all about the vile things he was saying to me, the way he was holding me.

A bitter laugh bubbles up in my throat. “You just caught him manhandling me, threatening me, and all you can think about is whether or not what he’s saying is true?” My voice cracks as the realization sinks in.

I shake my head, grabbing my bag. “You know what? Fuck both of you. I’m done. I quit. You can take each other to the goddamn Olympics.”

And with that, I run. My dad calls my name but I don't stop. I need to be away from him, and there’s only one place I want to be.

With my guys.