Chapter 42
“Here’s the thing, Stone.” His voice is quiet, but every word cuts like a blade. “Emilia is worth more than every pa- thetic insult you throw her way. And the fact that you’re standing here, drunk and bitter, while she’s happy and thriv- ing?” Liam smirks, but there’s no humour in it. “Tells me exactly who the real loser is.”
Stone clenches his jaw, but for once, he doesn’t have a comeback.
Liam turns to me, his expression softening instantly. “Come on, babe,” he murmurs, lacing his fingers with mine. “Let’s get out of here.”
He doesn’t even spare Stone another glance.
The tension in the air is suffocating. My pulse pounds, my throat tight, but I refuse to let myself choke on the words. threatening to spill out.
I stop walking, making Liam pause with me. His hand stays wrapped around mine, warm and steady, but I barely feel
“Em—” Liam starts, concern lacing his voice.
I don’t look at him. My focus is locked on Stone.
“I have no idea why you hate me,” I say, loud enough for him to hear. “When I was with Zane, all I ever wanted was to be on good terms with you. I—” My breath catches, but I push through, my voice turning sharp as I glare at him. “Actually, scratch that. I know exactly why you hate me.”
Stone raises a brow like he’s amused, but I see the way his jaw tightens.
“And you know what?” I scoff. “Thank God I’m not Zane’s ‘whore’ anymore. Thank God I can finally say whatever the hell I want without worrying about ruining your messed-up little friendship.”
Stone’s smirk falters, but I’m just getting started.
“Yes, Stone. I refused to sleep with you while I was with Zane. Your best friend. Big deal.” I tilt my head, my smile laced with venom. “Get over it.”
The muscle in his jaw twitches.
“Wear your big boy pants and leave me the hell alone,” I continue, my voice rising. “It must kill you to know that the so-called ‘slut of hockey’ would rather throw herself off this ship than breathe the same air as you.”
Liam tenses beside me, his grip on my hand tightening, but he doesn’t stop me. Doesn’t pull me away. He lets me say
- Lets me burn.
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Stone just stands there, his face blank. But I know I hit a nerve.
“Pathetic scum,” I finish, spitting the words like a final bullet before turning away.
Liam’s hand slides up my back, his touch gentle, soothing. He leans down, lips close to my car. “You didn’t have to hold back so much, babe,” he murmurs, amusement laced in his voice.
I let out a breath-half a laugh, half relief. Then I grab his hand and walk away, leaving Stone behind with nothing but my words ringing in his ears.
I don’t realize I’m shaking until Liam gently rubs his thumb over my knuckles. The anger, the fire-I felt invincible a second ago, but now? Now, my hands feel ice cold.
“You okay?” Liam asks, voice low.
I nod. Then I lie. “Yeah.”
But when he tugs me closer, when I feel the warmth of him against me, something cracks deep inside my chest.
It’s not just the name-calling. It’s not just being labeled the hockey slut or called a puck bunny. It’s the way that’s all I’ve ever been treated like.
Wanting to stay by Zane’s side turned into years of watching my autonomy slip through my fingers, piece by piece. And I let it happen-because I was so convinced that the ring on my finger, his last name next to mine, would make it all worth it. That losing myself would somehow be worth it.
I didn’t want to be just Zane’s pocket girlfriend, always by his side, on every plane to his games, tucked away in ev- ery hotel room in case he needed a release.
It was so fucking exhausting.
Pretending to hate girls who went to clubs and danced like they didn’t have a care in the world-while I sat in my as- signed seat, playing the role of the perfect girlfriend. Watching them live the life I had given up for someone who saw me as nothing.
And maybe the damage he did is worse than I realize.
Do I even like baking? Or did I just learn how because, in high school, a girl from the cheer team used to make Zane cookies? Because he’d sneak away with her to the bleachers, grinning like she had given him the world?
I used to wake up before my alarm, watching goddamn Food Network at sunrise, baking until my fingers hurt-just to
be the one he smiled at like that.
And the worst part?
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