Devious Obsession: A Dark Hockey Romance (Hockey Gods)

My mood is black. I’ve retreated to the back deck, overlooking some morons in the yard below who are trying to start a fire. They’ve been at it for too long, building and rebuilding the logs after each failed attempt. Inside, Steele and Aspen are practically having sex on the dance floor. He’s got her right where he wants her, like a spider with a meal caught in its web.

Good for him, right?

Greyson got his girl. Steele is on his way to securing his—if he doesn’t scare her away before that happens. My brother… well, fuck him.

I curl my fingers around the blade of my knife, digging another notch into the railing. It’s being replaced over the summer, and my marks will be gone. So it doesn’t matter that I’m keeping track of how many times I lose my temper. It doesn’t matter that there are more lines in this railing than ever before, because soon, it’ll be like it never existed at all.

It being so many things. My temper, my demons, my lack of control.

My brother and I rarely fight. We hardly ever disagree about the important things—well, one important thing: hockey. The rest we let roll off our backs. I think my parents like it that way. They raised us to be best friends, and it stuck. Except for the past year, when my anger and vitriol has been growing and morphing into some beast I don’t understand. Something directed at him.

“Hey, stranger.”

I glance over my shoulder, already frowning.

Willow closes the sliding glass door behind her and steps up next to me. Her gaze flicks to the knife, the tip still buried in the wood, then up to my face.

“How was the competition?” I force the words out, because I don’t want her questioning me. I don’t want her kindness or friendliness or compassion. So better to keep the attention on her, exactly where it belongs. She deserves the spotlight anyway.

She lifts one shoulder. She’s still dressed in her competition outfit, the tight dark-blue cropped shirt with silver lettering across her chest, the dark-blue shorts. High socks and silver shoes. It’s all ridiculous how much school spirit she’s forced to have.

Good thing blue is her color.

The only thing seemingly undone is her hair, which is pulled into a messy braid that hangs over her shoulder. Strands have fallen out, framing her face.

“It was fine. We didn’t win.”

“You’ll get ’em next time,” I mutter. Because I don’t know what else to say.

She shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Why are you out here?”

Last I checked, Knox was dancing, and it wasn’t with her. But that was before I retreated out here. It was either stay inside and punch him, or… not.

I chose the latter.

Above all, he’s my brother. Fighting him would do neither of us any good. So I pick him over everything else, even when he’s being a dick.

For a split second, I hope she didn’t see him. I hope she didn’t have to witness Knox being a narcissistic asshole. But then my common sense overrides, and my inner asshole wins out. Because fuck that—she should see all of him, not just the pretty parts he keeps polished for her.

“It’s hot inside,” she lies.

I exhale.

One day, Willow Reed will grow a fucking spine—but that day isn’t today.

“I’m bored,” I say, straightening.

I’m sure as fuck not going to stand out here and commiserate with my brother’s girlfriend. Not when I’ve wanted her from day fucking one. Not when seeing him treat her like garbage—and her let him—makes me angry enough to stab another line in the railing.

Someday, she’ll admit her feelings out loud, and my brother will stomp all over her heart.

And all that’ll be left for me is broken little pieces.

But you know what?

That’s all I deserve.