Page 24 of The Players We Hate (Rixton U #2)

Wren

The crowd roared as the puck dropped, but it barely registered.

I stood against the wall near the tunnel entrance, tucked out of sight from the student section and well away from the bench.

My badge hung from my lanyard like it actually meant something, but it didn’t stop my chest from pounding, the same way it always did when I felt out of place—like I was sneaking around where I didn’t belong.

Gavin wasn’t on the ice. Word had already started to spread that he quit the team, but it didn’t sound official.

It sounded like something whispered in passing, like no one wanted to say too much.

The timing gnawed at me. Was it my anonymous tip that pushed him out, or was something else forcing him to walk away? Either way, it didn’t feel clean.

The rest was falling apart.

Talon and Kade were closing in. I’d seen the film Talon kept watching, the way his eyes tracked Gavin in practice like he was waiting for him to slip.

They were circling him, same as me. I knew because I’d overheard them talking about Kade’s notes—and he’d slipped, mentioning his stepsister was in the crowd tonight with her camera.

Which meant she might’ve caught more than she realized.

If the people Gavin had been meeting with figured out things were coming apart, there was no telling what they’d do—or who they’d go after.

I shifted the clipboard in front of me, pretending to take notes. My eyes kept drifting toward the far hallway. Timing mattered. Too early or too late, and someone could notice.

I waited until the announcer’s voice echoed overhead, calling a media time-out. The arena lights dipped, and a fundraising video played across the Jumbotron. Fans stood, stretching their legs.

Cameras swung away from the bench.

This was my chance.

I slipped into the side tunnel, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. I followed the narrow corridor toward the team locker room. Kade’s bag would be there. He always left it in the same spot before games, too superstitious to let it out of his sight until the final horn.

Sure enough, it sat on the bottom row, the strap twisted, and the zipper half-open like it had been dropped in a rush.

I crouched, pushing past a pair of tape rolls and his backup gloves. My fingers closed around his keys.

The Wolves logo dangled from the lanyard, frayed and worn from use.

My chest pulled tight. I didn’t want to do this. Not to him.

But he was getting too close to a fire he didn’t understand. And if I didn’t steer him off, he was going to get burned .

I slid my coat tighter around me and pulled the note and the puck from the inside pocket, holding them like contraband.

I slipped out the back exit, the cold hitting me as soon as I stepped outside. The parking lot was quiet, lit by a few harsh overhead lights. Wind cut across the asphalt and pushed hair into my face as I crossed the dark stretch.

Kade’s truck sat crooked at the edge of the lot, angled into the curb the way he always parked.

I fumbled with the keys, fingers stiff from the cold, and unlocked the passenger door. The cab light flicked on, exposing the mess inside. A hoodie was crumpled across the seat, a protein bar wrapper stuffed in the console, and a half-full water bottle rolled across the floorboard.

I leaned over and opened the glove box. It dropped open with a soft click, spilling out game sheets, spare mouth guards, and a folded maintenance report from the arena staff. Tucked between the papers was his notebook. The same one he had mentioned to Talon, the one he used to track every detail.

I snapped a few quick photos of the pages before shoving them inside again. I reached for the puck, along with the note I wrote from my pocket. The words I had written earlier stared back at me.

KEEP PLAYING. STAY QUIET.

I hesitated only a second before setting it on the cupholder. Obviously enough that he’d see it but not out of place, before locking the truck and jogging toward the building .

By the time I slipped in through the entrance, the buzzer was blaring, signaling the start of the second period. I moved quickly to shed my coat and stepped into the arena as if nothing had happened.

I leaned against the tunnel wall, clipboard pressed tight to my chest, forcing my face to stay composed even though my pulse was still racing. As if I hadn’t just planted a pucking note in the truck of a player on one of the most-watched college hockey teams in the state.

I pressed my lips together and kept my eyes on the ice.

The Wolves were flying, fast and relentless.

Rowdy moved across the crease in a blur while Talon and Kade held their lanes with the kind of precision that came from hours of practice.

Even from where I stood, I could see the tightness in their movements, the way they stayed on edge, eyes constantly searching and calculating every play.

As I watched from the stands, I couldn’t help wondering if Kade would find it tonight.

I had no way of knowing how he might react when he did.

All I could hope was that he would understand what I was trying to say without me spelling it out.

Silence felt safer. I couldn’t explain what I was doing, and asking them to trust me was a risk I wasn’t willing to take.

By the time I stepped into my dorm after the game, my lungs ached from the cold, my thoughts rattling too loud in my head. I didn’t bother with the light. I stood in the middle of the room, the quiet pressing down on me, heavy and unshakable.

Everything hurt. Not from the walk or the nerves or the constant clench of my jaw. It was deeper than that, in a place I didn’t have a name for. My body felt like it had been wired for fight-or-flight all day, and now that I was out of the arena, I couldn’t figure out how to shut it off.

I dropped my bag by the door, the soft thud louder than it should’ve been in the space. My coat was still damp from the snow, my hair sticking to my neck. I peeled the layers away one by one, slow and careful, like moving too fast might undo me.

All I wanted was a shower and my bed. Maybe one hour when I didn’t have to think.

Of course, that wasn’t in the cards.

Alisa was stretched out on her bed, the glow of the TV lighting up the room when I stepped out of the bathroom. She muted the volume and pushed herself up on one elbow, a knowing smirk already on her face. She’d been waiting for me.

“Don’t say it,” I muttered as I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

Her smirk widened. “Say what?”

“I’m tired. I’ve had a long day. I just need—”

“You need to stop acting like you’re background in somebody else’s movie,” she cut in. “You’ve been in serious mode for weeks, and honestly, I can’t remember the last time I heard you laugh.”

“That’s a little dramatic,” I said, taking a sip.

She sat up straighter, eyes narrowing on me. “You want to stay here and stew in stress, fine by me, but don’t expect me to sit back and watch you do it again.”

I shot her a look. “If this is about another hockey house party—”

She grinned, shaking her head. “Nope. Even better. It’s a barn party. Everyone’s going, and you’re coming with me. ”

I arched a brow. “A barn?”

“Yes,” she said, as if it was obvious. “Out by the ridge. Rowdy’s family owns it. He throws one every spring. It’s a tradition. There’s a bonfire, string lights, and cheap beer. Half the school shows up sooner or later.”

“You want me to willingly go to a barn in the middle of nowhere with hockey players and spotty cell service?”

“Not no service,” she hedged. “Just… patchy.”

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck.

“I’m not asking you to do keg stands or hook up behind a tractor,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Just come with me. Put on something cute, and let yourself breathe for a night. That’s all.”

I leaned against the counter and closed my eyes for a second.

Part of me wanted to shut her down, crawl under a blanket, and lose myself in some social media doom scrolling.

Maybe slap on a face mask and pretend I hadn’t just tucked a puck into someone’s truck like some bargain-bin vigilante.

But I kept trying to ignore another part of me that knew she wasn’t wrong.

Maybe pretending to be normal for one night wouldn’t kill me.

I opened my eyes. “If I see hay bales, I’m leaving.”

“Noted. We’ve got thirty minutes, and I already queued up the playlist.”

She crossed the room without hesitation and went straight for my side of the closet, rifling through hangers like they all belonged to her. “Casual but cute,” she said, pulling things out at random. “Jeans, boots, that flannel you never wear. If you want, I’ll curl your hair and do your makeup.”

“Alisa…”

“Nope. No arguing.” She yanked a hanger free and held it up like it was a prize. “This, with your leather boots. You’ll look hot and country-adjacent.”

I snorted before I could stop myself. “Country-adjacent?”

She nodded, already rifling through my jewelry box. “You’ll look hot and fit right in, while still giving off ‘I could filibuster this whole room’ energy.”

A reluctant smile tugged at my lips. “I'll take that as a compliment even though it wasn't meant to be one.”

She grinned like she’d won something. “You’re welcome.”

I crossed my arms and watched her spin around the room like she was on a mission, pulling clothes from hangers, cranking up her playlist, humming under her breath like the night was already a story she couldn’t wait to tell. For a moment, I let myself get caught up in her energy.

Deep down, I knew this party wouldn’t be as harmless as she believed.

Not with who I knew would be there and how much was still unraveling.

But when she plugged in the curling iron and pulled me over to her vanity, I gave in.

For a little while, I let myself believe tonight might actually be simple.

The barn was louder than I expected. Not bad loud, just overwhelming.

The air carried a mix of smoke, spilled beer, and dust. Music pulsed through the rafters, the twang of strings layered over a heavy bass that vibrated in my chest. Strings of lights crisscrossed above in uneven lines, more haphazard than planned.

Students filled the space, clustered in corners, perched on anything that passed as a seat, and crowded close around the makeshift dance floor.

I hesitated just inside the doorway, my boot tapping against the floorboards while my eyes scanned for the quickest way out.

Alisa was gone within seconds, pulled into the crowd by a guy in a denim jacket with a grin too smooth to trust. She winked at me over her shoulder before disappearing completely.

I didn’t follow.

I stuck close to the wall, my jacket already too warm. Tugging at the sleeves, I wondered how long I had to stay before I could slip out without anyone noticing—not that I was sure I could even get an Uber this far out.

That was when I saw him.

Talon.

He was across the barn, leaning against a post in the shadows. Dark flannel rolled to his forearms, arms crossed, eyes sharp under the low brim of his trucker hat.

Of course he had to look ridiculously handsome, and don't even get me started on those arms.

He saw me almost instantly.

Then he straightened, pushing off the beam as if he’d been waiting. My stomach dipped.

No pretending to play it cool. He cut through the crowd, boots hitting the floor hard. By the time he stopped in front of me, he was close enough to block out everything else —the music, the lights, the room.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he snapped .

I raised a brow, pretending I hadn’t been plotting my escape for the past five minutes. “Good to see you too, Talon.”

He ignored the jab, jaw tight as his eyes dragged down the length of me and stalled at the strip of skin showing beneath my knotted flannel.

“This isn’t your scene.”

I shrugged, forcing calm. “It’s a free country.”

His nostrils flared. “Not tonight, it’s not.”

“I came with Alisa.”

“I don’t care who you came with. You shouldn’t be here.”

My spine straightened, chin lifting. “Why? Afraid I’ll see something I’m not supposed to?”

His eyes narrowed, heat sparking there. “I don’t trust you.”

“Says the guy who’s already proven how much of a dick he can be.”

“Don’t forget it either.” His voice dropped lower, rougher, the sound sliding over my skin. Too close. Close enough to catch the mix of cedar and sweat clinging to him. Close enough that my pulse betrayed me.

I hated him. I hated that he made me feel like I had to prove something just for standing my ground.

“I don’t need your permission to be here,” I said.

“No,” he countered, stepping closer until I could feel the heat rolling off him, “but you should be smart enough to know when you’re walking into a fight you can’t win.”

His breath skimmed my skin. “Tell me, Wren. You after trouble?”

I forced my voice steady. “You don’t scare me. ”

His mouth tilted, almost a smirk. “Maybe you should be scared.”

A sharp laugh slipped out of me. “You really think this is about you?”

That made him pause, his eyes cutting sharp, unsure if he wanted to argue or close the space left between us.

I leaned in first, enough that he couldn’t ignore it. “You don’t get to question me. You don’t get to corner me in some barn and act like I’m a threat to your world.”

His jaw flexed, words caught somewhere between his teeth.

“I meant what I said before,” I muttered, my mouth close to his. “So, you can stop trying to prove how big of an asshole you are, Talon.”

His inhale was quick, sharper than I expected.

“And from here on out,” I said as I pushed past him, “stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours. As far as I’m concerned, you don’t exist.”

I stopped at the doorway, one hand braced on the frame. Behind me, he didn’t move, heavy and unshakable.

“Because in my world,” I added, quieter now but sharper, “you never did.”

Then I walked out, not giving him the satisfaction of a response. If Talon wanted a fight, he had one. And while I was walking away this time, I wasn’t the one backing down.