Page 14 of Second Chance with the Enemy CEO (Second Chance Hockey Players #1)

A few minutes later, Cara comes back into the living room. “Hazel’s calling you.”

I blink. “Why?”

She shrugs innocently. “She needs your help. I am going to use the bathroom.” Before I can question her further, she is gone.

Jaw tight, I push off the couch and walk into the kitchen to see Hazel perched on a stool, reaching for something on the counter.

“Hey, can you pass me the mugs, Cara?” She says without turning around.

Wordlessly, I grab the mugs and place them in her hand, and just as she moves to place them on a shelf, I speak.

“You really do look like a bunny in that outfit.”

Her head snaps toward me, eyes sharp and wide. She wobbles. Her foot slips off the stool’s rung, and she yelps, arms flailing for balance.

“Whoa!” I dart forward, steadying her with both hands. She lands against me, her hands splayed on my chest.

“Be careful,” I say, my voice low.

Her cheeks flush as she looks up at me, flustered. “I would have been okay, if you hadn’t startled me.”

I glance down, noticing the faint line of red on her index finger. Without thinking, I grab her hand and lift it for a better look. “How’d you get this?”

“It’s nothing,” she says, trying to pull her hand back, but I do not let go.

“While chopping vegetables,” she mutters reluctantly.

“Hm. Still clumsy with a knife, eh?”

Her eyes narrow, and she jerks her hand free, taking a small step back. “What are you even doing in here, Liam?”

“You called for me,” I say, shrugging.

She tilts her head, confusion flickering across her face. “Why would I do that?”

I mutter under my breath, “I’m going to kill that girl.”

Hazel rolls her eyes and turns back to the stove, stirring a pan. The scent of garlic and herbs fills the air. I lean against the counter, watching her.

“You’re still here?” She asks, not looking up.

“I have a right to be here.”

She snorts. “No, you don’t.”

“It’s my house.”

She spins, one hand on her hip. “For five more months, it’s mine.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that it’s my house.”

The air between us crackles as we glare at each other. She turns back to her cooking.

“What are you making?” I ask, breaking the silence.

She doesn’t even glance my way. “Vegetable stew,” she says, adding a handful of peas to the pan.

“Wait…, are those peas?”

She glances at me over her shoulder, her brow arching. “Yes, they are peas. What about them?”

I frown. “I thought you hated peas.”

She hesitates, spoon hovering above the pan.

“You used to hate peas. Loathed them. Picked them out of everything. It was kind of your thing.”

She snorts and continues stirring. “That was years ago. I am allowed to change my mind, Liam. It is called growth.”

“Growth? Eating peas is growth, now? That is a reach. What is next? You like pineapple on pizza now?”

She rolls her eyes, but I catch the faintest smile tugging at her lips. “You are ridiculous. It is just peas.”

“It’s never just peas,” I counter, pushing off the counter to step closer.

She glances at me, her eyes narrowing. “Oh, really? Please, enlighten me. What does it mean to you, Dr. Pea Psychologist?”

I lean just a little closer. “It means you are pretending to be someone you are not. For what? To look more..., refined? Sophisticated? Because last I checked, you were perfectly fine being a chaotic mess.”

Hazel’s jaw tightens, and she places the spoon down with a loud clatter. “You are unbelievable. Just because I used to hate something does not mean I am not allowed to grow up and change. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

My smirk fades. “Oh, trust me, I’ve changed plenty.”

Her gaze locks on mine, the air between us thick with tension. “You sure about that? Because you still act like you know everything about me. Newsflash, Liam, - you do not.”

I cross my arms, leaning back slightly. “You think I don’t know you? Hazel, I knew you better than anyone.”

She scoffs, shaking her head. “Knew, Liam. Past tense. You do not know the person I have become.”

“And whose fault is that?” The words slip out sharper than I intended, but I do not regret them.

She freezes, her hands gripping the edge of the counter. When she looks at me again, her eyes are guarded. “No one’s,” she says quietly, her voice steady but cold.

I grit my teeth, the heat rising in my chest. “That is what I thought. You are still the same Hazel who runs from everything.”

Her laugh is humorless as she picks up the pot and pours some stew into a bowl. “And you’re still the same Liam who jumps to conclusions without actually talking to people. Congratulations, you win the consistency award.”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” I snap. “You don’t get to act like the victim here.”

“Victim?” she echoes, her voice rising. “I am not acting like anything, Liam! You are the one storming in here like you have some moral high ground and you know me because of a handful of peas!”

“Because it’s not about the damn peas!” I yell, throwing my hands up.

“Then what’s it about, huh?” she shouts back, stepping closer, the bowl clutched tightly in her hand. “Enlighten me, Liam. What is your real issue here?”

I stare at her, chest heaving, and for a split second, I consider saying it—the truth. The resentment, the betrayal, the years of silence. But I cannot. Not here. Not now.

“You know what?” I say, voice dropping to a cold edge. “Forget it. Enjoy your peas, Hazel.”

I turn and walk out of the kitchen, my fists clenched at my sides.

When I get back to the living room, Cara is lounging on the couch, grinning.

“We’re leaving,” I snap. “Now.”

She raises an eyebrow, her smile fading. “What? Why? What happened?”

“Don’t ask,” I mutter, grabbing my jacket.

Cara looks like she is about to argue, but I shoot her a glare that stops her in her tracks.

“Now, Cara!” My tone leaves no room for argument.

Hazel appears in the doorway, her expression unreadable. I glance at her briefly before shaking my head and stepping out the door.

I knew I should not have stayed.