Page 3 of Puck’N Enemy (Thunder Knights #2)
Logan
The infirmary ceiling is a sickly beige color.
I stare at it, trying to even my breathing. Pain throbs relentlessly down my left leg, never allowing me to forget my rage.
Even though I’ve been stuck in this room, I know the Thunder Knights lost the game tonight. Fans all over social media are lamenting my untimely exit, marking it as the sole reason the Silver Bears could win after the tough fight we gave them.
I can only imagine what the rest of my teammates are feeling.
They played extremely well tonight and followed every strategy Coach Sullivan designed for us. They even trained and practiced tirelessly over the past weeks.
I wasn’t the only guy who got knocked on his ass during the game. Bastian took far more hits than me but he kept getting back up.
I glare at my throbbing knee, cursing it.
Why couldn’t I get through the damn pain? Why did I have to be so weak and let them carry me off the ice on a fucking stretcher?!
I punch the mattress, which causes my leg to shift.
Immediately, a jolt of pain goes through my knee and calf, making me let out a groan.
The doctors said it wasn’t broken. They determined it was a severe sprain along with a torn ligament in my calf.
“It could’ve been worse,” Dr. Cooper, the resident doctor, had told me. “You’ll be perfectly fine after a few weeks' rest. Sullivan won’t be forced to bench his favorite goalie, and the Knights will have a fighting chance to win the state championship.”
Could’ve been worse , Dr. Cooper’s words remind me of a dark memory I’d long buried.
I’d been seventeen and severely injured. My ribs were broken, my face and mouth bloody, and my legs swollen and bruised from multiple kicks.
Dylan had watched it all happen to me with that same stricken, haunted expression as the one he wore tonight when they carried me off the rink.
I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the ghost of Dylan Larson to leave me alone.
Someone suddenly pushes the door open. A chilly breeze blows in, carrying the scent of citrusy lemon.
I don’t even have to open my eyes to know who it is.
I can still feel Dylan, like an old scar that still refuses to fade away.
Opening my eyes, I stare at the ghost from my past.
Now that the urgency of the game is gone, I take a closer look at him.
Dylan stands at the threshold, looking taller than I remember.
He’s broader and rougher around the edges now.
His hoodie is too big for him, the sleeves shoved up around tense forearms. Strands of his reddish auburn hair are still damp and messy, looking like he’s just taken off his helmet and come here.
For a second, my heart squeezes so tight, it obliterates the pain radiating along my left leg.
Fuck. Even though years have passed by since I last saw him, I miss him.
And that realization makes my anger snap back twice as hard.
“You’ve got some nerve showing up here,” I say, my voice raspy.
Dylan flinches as he meets my sharp gaze. He hesitates and continues to hover at the threshold, like he’s too afraid to walk into the room and face me.
Good. I want him to feel the anger and betrayal he left in his wake.
I shift, wanting to sit up straighter. The movement makes me hiss and gasp but I don’t care. I need to show him I’m not the same weak boy he left behind.
“Did you come here to finish the job?” I say, my voice thick with venom. “Or are you just here to watch me fall apart again?”
Dylan’s mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
His lips tremble while his lashes blink rapidly, like he’s trying not to cry.
What the hell does he have to cry about?
He’s the one who promised to be with me forever and then betrayed me in the worst way possible. He left me broken and vanished without a word.
The idiot that I was, I still believed in him and waited for him.
Years have gone by and it looks like I’m still waiting for him to give me an explanation for his betrayal.
“Say something!” I snap when Dylan stays frozen at the door. “Or is this part of your whole act?”
Dylan’s hands curl into fists at his sides. His face screws up in pain like someone had gut-punched him.
“I’m sorry,” he says in a shaky voice. “I didn’t mean to—”
“You’re sorry?” I shout at once. “For what, Dylan? For breaking every promise you ever made me?”
“Logan,” he says, his voice low and rough. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
“You betrayed me anyway,” I say bitterly.
The air is heavy with tension, thick enough to choke on.
Every muscle in my body screams at me to kick Dylan out and cut him out of my life for good but my chest still aches at the sight of him.
He’s here , my mind whispers. Dylan is alive and here for you.
I hate these feelings.
And I hate the way Dylan still looks at me, like I’m the only person in the world who matters to him.
The clash of emotions makes me reckless.
“Get out of here,” I shout, letting my anger take control of me. “I don’t ever want to see you again, so just leave!”
A choked noise escapes him as he takes a step inside the room.
But his courage fades as he meets my furious gaze again. He hesitates, giving me a glimpse of the crack in his facade. He’s dying to cross the distance between us, but he knows he can never do it.
His shoulders shake from silent sobs. Tears fill up those emerald-green eyes as he nods stiffly. Swallowing hard, he turns away and quickly walks out of the room.
Dylan disappears like he was never here.
A part of me wants to chase him and force him to answer the question that’s never stopped burning in my heart.
“Why did you betray me when you still can’t watch me in pain?” I whisper, feeling a familiar ache in my chest.