Brutal Obsession (6)

The basics?

While my bones healed—and they’re still technically healing, the ligaments and tendons strengthening by the day—my nerves didn’t. Over the last six months, I’ve experienced incredible pain that comes out of nowhere. Not to mention my muscles are weak.

I’ll never be on the dance team again, and I’ll never be a ballerina.

Goodbye, dreams.

“Violet?” Jess leans into me. “What’s wrong?”

I realize I have a tear rolling down my cheek. I quickly brush it away and take a deep breath. “Sorry, guys. Didn’t mean to…” I gesture to my face. “I’m not able to come back to the dance team. Doctor’s orders.”

“But, Coach—”

“Talked to my doctors and agreed,” I finish quietly.

Their stares are heavy. Sad.

I shake my head and force a smile. “It’s okay. I’ll cheer you on from the sidelines. Yeah?”

Amanda scowls. Her gaze lifts, and she tosses back her shot. “They’re coming over here.”

I take a second to rein in my emotions. Not easy when I suddenly feel like I’ve let everyone down… again. I stare at the table until I’m sure my eyes aren’t burning.

“Hey, Steele,” Amanda sings. She’s in the middle of the table, perfectly poised to be the center of attention. Her cheeks are pink from the tequila, and her smile widens.

“Amanda,” he greets her, then turns to Jack. “Hey, buddy. Have you met our newest left wing?”

He and Jack slap hands and bump fists.

I finally glance up and realize that Steele isn’t alone. The blood drains out of my face.

He stands beside Steele, looking like… like nothing ever happened? Impossible.

The man who hit my car and ruined my life.

Greyson Devereux.





2





GREYSON





My teammate nods to the guy sitting at a table full of girls. “Jack, Greyson. Jack is the quarterback on the football team.”

I quirk my lips. The football team lost spectacularly this year, no thanks to Jack here. It’s a good thing the hockey team is picking up the slack and bringing some attention back to this school.

That’s where I shine.

In the spotlight.

Well, correction: that’s where I used to shine.

My gaze goes to the girl beside Jack, who seems like she’s about to be violently sick. She looks familiar in the way most girls do. Like I might’ve had a chance encounter with her at some point in my life but nothing worthy of me remembering.

Maybe we ran into each other here, at Haven. After a game.

I smirk at her, and she flinches. Not the usual reaction.

Interesting.

Steele is going around the table, introducing the dance team. I register it faintly, still trying to figure out the girl under Jack’s arm. She’s watching me, too. Her blue eyes on mine are like daggers. I’m intrigued.

“And Violet,” Steele finishes. “Back from…”

“Hiatus,” she says faintly.

She has an unusual name. I’ve only heard of one other…

“Violet Reece,” Steele continues. “Best damn dancer on the team—no offense, ladies.” He winks at the other girls.

Violet Reece.

I clench my jaw to keep from saying anything. My expression smooths, although what I really want to do is ask why the fuck she’s in my town. I’ve been here since the start of the fall semester, and I haven’t seen or heard of her. Not even a fucking whisper.

Best damn dancer on the team. Back from hiatus. So, what, this is a massive coincidence? My luck. No, her luck. I’m glaring holes in her skull, I think, but she makes a point to not look away.

Challenge accepted.

“So, how are you liking playing with the Hawks, Greyson?” one of the girls asks.

I tear my gaze off Violet and try to find who asked. The girl in the center, with perky breasts peeking out from a low-cut shirt, leans forward. It seems to be a tactic girls employ to drive attention down to them.

So I go with what she wants and let my eyes fall to the swells, then back up to her face. She’s flushed from whatever they’ve been drinking. I’ve seen her with some of the other girls who always shadow the team. We’re regulars at Haven—the owner has a soft spot for the team, especially after a win—and she just has the look.

A puck bunny in hiding. They’re usually not so subtle. Although I’m not sure what she’s doing is subtle. Maybe she’s just in denial.

“It’s a good change,” I finally reply. “Much better than where I was.”

Violet lifts the shot glass in front of her, slamming it back. My attention is pulled back to her. It’s unnerving. She swallows delicately, her throat moving. She’s stopped staring at me and has chosen to go with ignoring my existence.

But it’s subtle enough that I don’t think many other people pick up on her snub.

Maybe she’s regularly like this.

Cold.

It’s all the more intriguing, because I realize that I don’t actually know her. I’ve only heard her name in association with my future being choked to death.

“We’ll see you ladies around,” Steele says. He pulls at my sleeve. “Come on, man.”