34: I Don't Need a Saviour

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Evan

Sam Fields tears his helmet off, and it lands next to mine. He's grinning, and his laughter rings through the air. Like he's a criminal mastermind—and all of this is going according to his plan.

But he isn't. He's a stupid, fucking moron of a kid, and he's going to get what he deserves.

"What do you want, Sam? Huh?" I challenge. My hands extend to both sides of me and I swallow the lump that has gotten lodged in my throat. I don't have time for that—time to consider my options. The rest of the team stands on the sidelines, and I can hear Lucas yelling from behind me. I tune it out. "What is this bullshit? Enough with pushing me around. We can settle this right now if you just tell me what you want."

Sam lets out an annoying laugh. It grates on my nerves. "I have no clue what you're talking about, McKenna. Maybe you should stop taking everything so personally. Am I damaging your ego?"

"How hilarious," I say blandly, my voice sweet with sarcasm, "but you can shut up now. You know, I don't think you care about anyone on the team. It's not about us, is it? So I guess we'll all just leave, and you can try doing it all yourself. See where that takes you."

Sam doesn't seem to be listening to me until I mention the team. And then he looks at me, the fury written in his eyes. "The team. Are you part of it? When I last checked, the only reason you get invited to tag along is that your girlfriend—sorry, ex-girlfriend—was there. It's funny how you're unable to catch the hint that I don't want you around. Not at the party. Not at the games. Nowhere."

"Wouldn't that be fucking great for you!" I reply, and the coy grin on my face doesn't feel forced any longer. "Oh, and while we're on the subject of the party—what makes you think I wanted to be there? It sucked, but there was one decent moment. It was the part when you proved how much of an asshole you are."

He shrugs. "I get it. You dropped out of soccer to fuck Delacroix."

I see scarlet. It paints my sight in a deep, red shade like before dawn if the sun was furious. I lurch forward, but Lucas skates towards me, tugging me backward. I shout, "You—fucking hell, like that's what's important. What's important is that you're trying to do the same thing to Delacroix that you did to your brother."

Speckles of light cling to the edges of my vision. Sam's gaze darkens; a storm cloud about to break open. "Who told—"

"What, did you think nobody would find out?" I taunt, despite Lucas still by my side, urging me repeatedly to drop it. "How do you figure that? Maybe Noah makes you feel guilty. Maybe you realize—"

Sam barrels towards me in a second. Barely a second—and his fist slices across my face. My body hurtles backward before a pair of hands catch me. My eyes water, and the dots of light dance in my vision. It tints red, but a new shade this time. Red like fresh blood.

"You don't want to go there, McKenna," Sam says, sneering over me. I pull myself back onto the ice with a stilted movement, and I can feel the tingle of blood running down my face. "What would you know? It's really unfortunate that your family is worse than mine, but you don't have to take it out on me."

"What did you just say?" I wrestle my body out of Lucas' grasp and glide closer to Sam. When he doesn't answer me, I lift my chin and wipe the blood from my cheek. My eye twitches. "Repeat it, Sam. I fucking dare you."

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