《 WATTY'S SHORTLIST 2021 》━ ❝WELCOME TO HART'S BAY.❞ where opposites attract. featuring » » » an ex-varsity swimmer and a hockey player. a once-wealthy server and a surfer on exchange. a daytime cashier and her nighttime counterpart. | presenting...
a/n: buckle up y'all! and be sure to vote and comment! i see a lot of silent readers and i would really love to put a username to the read! ♥
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It goes from bad to worse overnight.
The sea creeps further up the shore and drags away everything in sight. Raindrops bombard windows and caving rooftops. The entire town is under siege by the storm of the century.
When morning arrives, what's left behind is less than perfect conditions for another run-in that will be as disastrous as when the smear of red first met Hart's Bay.
Sometimes, there's a storm before the storm.
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The last time Kyle was in Hart's, spring was just starting to arrive and the hyacinths at the far edge of his backyard were still in bloom. The varsity hockey season was coming to a close and Alendale was one game away from playing in the Eastern Finals.
It feels like ages ago, but the sour taste of defeat remains. He remembers the buzzer sounding; the pushing and shoving that ensued; the mixing of anger and alcohol that reduced the night to a blur and one long hospital stay.
≈
He doesn't bother warming up. Just launches the puck at the empty net again and again and again. The clang of his stick against the ice sounds like a pistol firing shots. It reverberates around the arena, bouncing off the side boards and up to the white beams crisscrossing the high ceiling.
All around the empty recreation centre too.
But Kyle only hears the quickening of his pulse—and the conversation from yesterday's practice—as he loops around the goalie's net.
"We don't think it's a good idea for you to go."
Kyle's reaction had been one of dubiousness. "You can't be serious."
"We're worried," Reid had paused, trying to choose his words carefully, "about aggressive behaviour."
"That's hockey," Kyle had dismissed.
"We mean...off the ice."
Then his coach had muttered something about "things getting out of hand quickly" but Kyle had stopped listening by that point. Blood had rushed to his ears, and he could only storm out of the arena and narrowly avoid breaking his fist on one of the lockers.
Hockey was supposed to be aggressive. It was built into the game, part of the fun. Sure, it followed players off the ice every now and then. But that was no reason to keep him from going to the retreat.
He had already been kept off the ice for three damn months.
Kyle launches another puck at the net, still fuming—
