Brenna

The air outside is musky with spring. It smells of damp earth and Shea's cologne. I still haven't let go of him. Connor's expecting me to slap Shea or toss him to the curb because of this video. I can see it on his smug face.

Fuck, I hate him. Every time I see him, murder becomes more and more tempting.

However, when I catch a hint of realization on Shea's face, I doubt my judgement. It's like opening a floodgate. Several questions centred around our relationship fill my mind with negative notions.

I stare at his face, my bottom lip trembling. He didn't do this. He couldn't. Wouldn't. Shea's working towards becoming a better person. 

The camera is focused on Shea as the video continues on. After hearing Connor whine about being kicked off of the team, conversation shifts. It becomes focused on the bet, and it's concerning how focused everyone is on the video. KJ, Jayden, Hunter, Shea, Ian, Drew. Even Connor and his cronies are watching. Being the only girl makes me feel like I'm on the outside of an inside joke. I wish I had Cat next to me. But Connor planned this party. He would never invite the girl who replaced and overpowered him. 

It's a fucking bet, Connor!

At first, those words are like a slap to the face. But something sounds strange about the tone of voice Video Shea is displaying. It sounds almost... robotic. As if someone cut words from the sentence...

My mouth drops open.

Connor edited the video. That's how stupid he thinks I am. I avert my gaze from his phone, staring at him instead. He's too immersed in the video to care, all smug and basking in his assumed glory. Even his posture sickens me. He's relaxed, but poised, ready to claim victory.

What is it with men underestimating women? It baffles me.

But I want to see how this plays out.

As the video continues on, more false words flitter by. This video looks too recent. And with the progress Shea has made, I know he wouldn't say any of these things.

I'm tired of you tiptoeing around that bitch, Video Connor says.

Video Shea snorts. I hate Brenna Harrison more than your pathetic mind can comprehend. Sleeping with her was the plan.

The video ends there, and Connor tucks his phone back into his pocket. His smug grin makes me want to punch him.

Shea turns to me, his eyes wide. I turn to him. He threads his fingers through mine and squeezes my hand. "That video is out of context, Bren. Someone edited it. Connor and I had this conversation after Boxing Day. Hell, I kicked his ass after telling him the bet was over. That we were dating and this is real." He gestures between us. 

Because my back is facing Connor, I smile and give Shea's hand a reassuring squeeze.

Relief flickers in his eyes, and there's the slightest ease of tension in his shoulders.

Then I turn around and face Connor, a cold, unamused expression present on my face.

He raises his eyebrows. "How does it feel, Harrison, to be played?"

"Not sure, Connor," I reply. "How does it feel?"

His expression doesn't falter.

I cross my arms, keeping my feet planted. "Do you really expect me to believe this? It's clear someone edited the video. The tone of Shea's voice isn't normal. People talk in cohesive sentences, not choppy, robotic ones. Even when they're nervous, the tone still makes sense. This tone doesn't."

Connor glances back at his friends. "Look at that. She's analyzing every route in order to avoid a heartbreak. How cute."

My eye roll is dramatic but well-deserved. "For fuck's sake. You're daft. What baffles me is you're a goalie and you actually have strategy. How can a mind like yours even comprehend the game of hockey? You can barely comprehend common sense."

He grits his teeth, and I decide to poke the needle even further.

I cock my head to the side, feeling a strand of hair fall from my bun and bracket my face. "It must bruise your ego to know you made Shea and I happy. This bet was beneficial, so maybe I'll thank you for it." I gesture to Shea. "We put our differences aside and figured out how to work together. We gained each other's respect and trust. Yet you're still trying to make it seem like we hate each other. It's quite funny. Romance undermined you Connor. Made us stronger."

Behind me, Shea covers a laugh with a cough. A small chuckle escapes my lips. Then I shake my head. "You know what, this is a waste of time. Let's get out of here." I'm in the midst of turning around when Shea shakes his head. 

"No," Shea says. He pushes past me. "We're not finished here."

Without hesitation, Shea saunters up to Connor. There isn't a glint of fear in his eyes or uncertainty on his face. Shea knows where he stands. Knows he's a better person than Connor, and it's good to see Shea finally giving himself some credit. Credit he deserves from others and himself.

He jabs Connor in the chest. "You're a fucking bully, Connor. Beating up Jayden in the locker room. Threatening to hurt my friends. Pulling Brenna into a bet without her permission. Touching her without her permission. Teasing KJ about his relationship with Ella. Fuck, man, the list goes on and on. You're a pathetic piece of shit."

Connor's nostrils flare. "You're no different, Smith." His gaze flicks to Brenna, then back to me. "You were planning on fucking her over."

Shea raises one finger. "That's correct. But you can redeem yourself with accountability. That much I've learned. My mistakes will haunt me until the day I die, but I'm thankful for that. They'll remind me about what kind of person I want to be." He snorts with disgust. "And it's nothing like you. I don't care if you're going through a rough patch at home or some other victimizing excuse. You control how you react. You control your behaviour. Nothing excuses your behaviour. Do better, Connor. It's not difficult to try."

Shea turns back to me, looping his arm through mine. "Let's get out of here," he murmurs. "We'll go to my house and watch a movie or something."

Just as I'm about to agree, I spot motion behind Shea.

It appears Connor's temper has snapped.

He lunges for Shea as soon as his back is turned.

I shove Shea out of the way, planting myself between Connor and Shea. This bet started with me, it'll end with me. This entire shit-show that's causing more stress than need be will end tonight.

Connor freezes.

"You want to fight someone?" I spit, giving Connor a shove. "Then fight me. I'm the one who annoys you, remember? Karma's a fucking bitch, Connor." I cock my head to the side, lifting an eyebrow. "Or are you too scared?"

His eyes flare with anger. "Get out of the way, Harrison."

I give him another shove, edging him on. Tonight's events have spiked my adrenaline. There's nothing I want more than to put Connor in his place. He's caused enough damage. Threatened too many good people, including me. None of us deserves the side effects of his shitty attitude. I'll break his nose if I have to.

"What's wrong, Watt?" I taunt. "Are you scared?"

He snorts. "Of a girl? Hell no."

Connor lunges, throwing his fist blindly.

I dodge it, throwing a punch aimed at his jaw. My strike rings true. Pain reverberates through my knuckles, but I ignore it. He stumbles back, pressing a hand to his jaw. Then I lunge forward, bringing my knee hard against his balls. He chokes on a breath and falls to his knees, clutching the bruised area. It's as pleasing as it is comical. A man who thinks he's all-powerful being ruined by his balls.

Fucking priceless.

"Fuck," he wheezes.

Behind me, I hear KJ whoop. "If the bro-code weren't in effect, I'd have done that a long time ago. Beautiful."

Although I don't believe in the bro-code, I understand why a man would refuse to kick another man in the balls. I'll never understand the pain, but I can guess. It brings them to their knees every time. I don't think KJ or anyone else with wish that upon another man, no matter what. 

As I stare at Connor, I feel a kernel of pity. Not just for Connor, but people like Connor, too. Being an asshole no one likes must lead to a lonely life. I wonder if his so-called friends even like him or if they're just scared of him. It's a shame, really. We're not put on this planet to fight. We're here to lead a happy life. And I doubt Connor is happy. 

Turning back to Shea, I flash him a smile. It doesn't match the smug grin on his face, but it's close enough. He loops an arm around my shoulders and tugs me close. His lips touch my cool cheek. They're warm and soft, and they eliminate the chilly spring breeze.

"Ready to go?" Shea murmurs.

"Yeah," I reply.

Everyone in the gang feels smug, and it's about time. Connor never should've had this much power over us. I'm glad we're finally breaking free of his games.

Behind us, someone spits. Clears their throat.

Then the asshole opens his mouth again.

"That's right, Smith," Connor drawls. "Keep walking with that slut hanging off of your arm. By tomorrow, everyone's gonna be glad that abrasive, ball-busting bitch is off of the market."

Shea freezes. His body is tense. He releases my arm and slowly turns around. "Want to repeat that?"

Connor crosses his arms, keeping his fiery gaze locked on Shea. "You heard me, Smith. Everyone knows you two are fucking, but what will the league think when they catch wind of Brenna sleeping with the entire team?"

My stomach drops. I try to keep my worried face hidden, but it's difficult. That rumour will spread like wildfire amongst the people who hate me. I know I can depend on several people to defend me. But word that spreads among players usually leaks to the parents. And the parents are worse than the players. They'll complain to the league. I'll be kicked off of the team before playoffs ends. Even Uncle Aiden and Coach Matthias couldn't weather the storm for me. 

Although I know Connor's lying, this rumour will kill my future chances. UBC's team. The Olympics. It'll stick with me until the end. Especially if social media bites.

KJ steps up beside Shea, cracking his knuckles. "See, now you're just a downright moron, Connor. You should not have said that."

Connor snorts. "What are you going to do?"

The smug grin on KJ's face is a little scary. "I will not do anything. But we will."

He gestures to the group. Shea, Jayden, Hunter, Drew, and Ian are all behind me, ready to fight. Their hockey bodies look ten times bigger under their bomber jackets and sweaters. Plus, the expressions on their faces are deadly.

Connor can tell, too, because he takes a step back.

Shea doesn't hesitate.

He strikes like a viper.

There's a sickening crack, and blood gushes from Connor's nose.

Next, Connor is on his ass, rubbing a blossoming bruise across the bridge of his nose. Blood is gushing from his nose and soaking his shirt. Staining the white cotton fabric.

And Shea's not finished with him.

"You fucking bastard," he spits. Connor gets in one good punch in before Shea pins him down. Shea grips Connor's collar, jerking him to his feet. Connor's back slams against the concrete wall. "You have ten seconds, Watt. Give me one good reason I shouldn't smash your skull into the concrete."

Connor spits out a mouthful of blood.

"Ten," Shea says. "Nine, eight..."

There's blood everywhere. It leaks from Connor's nose and the gash above his eyebrow. Shea's bleeding, too. His lip is split.

Concern spikes within me, making me take a subconscious step forward.

Jayden, as if he knows what I'm about to do, grabs my bicep. I try to jerk away, but he forces me to stay back. I glance at him. Although Jayden looks concerned, too, he shakes his head. As if to say, Let them work their shit out.

"What makes you think you can spread rumours about my girlfriend?" Shea demands.

Connor wipes away the blood from his nose. Flashes me a bloody grin. "Possessive, eh? At least you know who's in control."

"We're exclusive to each other," Shea spits. He gives Connor another shove. "I don't own Brenna, but I'm still allowed to say she's my girlfriend. Just like she's allowed to say I'm her boyfriend."

Connor snorts. "Still sounds possessive."

Shea's irate. If this were a cartoon, his face would be red. He raises his fist again. I draw my bottom lip between my teeth, waiting for contact to me made. We've done enough damage to Connor. I feel like another hit will only make things worse. The best thing to do now would be to leave him behind. It would bruise his ego.

Shea's tense posture eases. He lowers his fist. "You know what?" He climbs to his feet and stares down at Connor with disgust. "You're not worth my time. The game's over Connor. You lost. But if you so much as try to spread a rumour about Brenna, I will destroy you on the ice. Be it an injury that benches you or kills a potential career. I'll risk my career in hockey. Don't underestimate me."

His voice is dangerously low when he says, "And don't fucking test me."

Connor stares up at Shea. Fear clouds his eyes, and it sends a jolt of triumph through my body. Not because Connor's been put in his place, but because Shea found his voice. He's finally stood up to Connor and put an end to his shenanigans.

Shea stands, straightening his posture while he adjusts his sweater. "We're leaving."

He turns, and I meet him halfway, giving him a tight hug.

This time, we leave without looking back.

And Connor doesn't say a word.

* * *

When we arrive at my vehicle, I pass the keys to KJ. "Take everyone to Shea's house. We're going to walk."

Ever since we walked away from our incident with Connor, Shea's been quiet. Something's bothering him. Something we need to discuss before it festers.

KJ catches my keys, frowning at me. "What's going on?"

I glance over my shoulder at Shea. He's standing in a semi-circle with the rest of the guys. They're facing someone's yard, probably discussing why the owners still have their Christmas lights up in April.

"He's acting distant," I sigh, turning back to KJ. "He's got a lot on his mind. I think he needs someone to vent to."

Those words feel loaded. Shea's cagy behaviour scares me. It makes me wonder if there was any truth in Connor's words.

KJ swallows, and I watch his Adam's Apple bob. "Okay. We'll meet you there. I'll order some pizza. What kind do you want?"

My stomach is full of knots. I'm not hungry. "Hunter and I have similar taste. Order a large of whatever he wants. I'll share it with him. Shea likes ham, pineapple, mushrooms, and jalapeños."

"Okay," KJ nods.

By the time we join the group, they're discussing a smaller party at Shea's house.

Jayden's starting a group chat. "KJ, is it cool if I invite Ella, too?"

"Yeah," KJ says. "No problem."

Jayden nods, then lists off all the contacts. "Cat, Evren, Ella, Willa..." He trails off, wrinkling his nose. "God, hockey is fucking sexist." He fires off the text, then explains why Nick won't be able to make it. "Nick's sister is home from university. She finished her classes early. He wanted a quiet night with the family."

Ian sidles up to Jayden. I notice the way he rests his hand on Jayden's forearm. It warms my heart. "I can pick up the pizza. And if any of the ladies need a ride, I can pick them up. Also, what do we want for drinks? Superstore is open until eleven. Sparkling water? Pop?"

As they continue to bicker over drinks, I pull Shea away. We head down the sidewalk. The night air is stuffy, promising a humid, rainy night. Snow at lower elevations. Patchy fog has already settled around some of the houses lining the street. The street-lamps provide plenty of light as we walk, but it's about as artificial as the comfortable atmosphere I keep telling my mind to believe. In truth, the air between Shea and I is tense. 

"Where are we going?" Shea asks.

I glance at the sky. Despite there being some cloud cover and patchy fog, there are some sections of clear sky. The light pollution affects the view of the night sky, but a few stars poke through. April's weather so far has been promising. Plenty of rain and the grass is turning green. The Okanagan is looking alive again. I can't wait until May, when the lilacs are blooming and the creeks are rushing. Hiking in the spring is superb. 

"It's a beautiful evening. I thought we could walk to your house."

Shea presses his lips in a flat line and nods, averting his gaze to the sidewalk ahead.

I take a deep breath, mustering up the courage to ask if he's okay. He did that for me when we entered the hospital. Walking into that hospital was difficult. It reminded me of our failed attempt at a date. One minute, I'm near the water tower in Rose Valley. The next, I'm waking up in the hospital, hooked up to several machines. Plus, I'd just watched my best friend lay unconscious on the ice. 

"Are you okay?" I ask.

My voice is softer than a petal, but Shea flinches as if a thorn has just pierced his skin.

An uneasy feeling settles in my gut. It fuels my mouth. Meaning, I being to blab. "Please tell me Connor was lying, and I didn't just make a fool of myself."

Shea keeps his gaze focused on the sidewalk for several seconds before stopping. He shoves his hands in his pockets and stares at me. His hazel eyes search mine, and I can't decipher the emotions present on his face.

My heart does a funny flip.

"At first, I didn't know when that video was taken. It scared the hell out of me. I thought I was going to lose you. But I swear, Bren, that video was edited. My intention that night was to stand up to Connor—which I did. He's manipulating my words. I swear. Believe me. Please."

That's one part of the equation. His concern about me not believing him. There's still something bothering Shea, though.

"I believe you," I reply. "Excellent communication skills are part of the foundation that contributes to a healthy relationship, though. Our emotions are valid. Sometimes we need confirmation. Just because I asked doesn't mean I don't trust you, Shea. I do. We've proven to be trustworthy to each other."

I pause, biting my tongue. Even when we were on the phone earlier, prior to the party, Shea seemed distant. 

"You've been off all day, though," I continue. "Is there anything else you want to discuss?"

He kicks at the community mailbox behind him. It's light kick, but it only emphasizes that he's struggling.

A crease forms between my brows. "What else is bothering you?"

He blinks, and his rigid posture deflates as he turns around. Runs his tongue across his split lip. It's stopped bleeding, and the cut isn't very deep. It'll be bruised tomorrow. Maybe it already is. I can't really tell thanks to the shadows being casted by the street-lamps. "Why are you always so calm?"

"Calm?" I snort. "You've seen my temper before, Shea."

A smile tugs at his lips. He runs a hand through his hair. "Okay. You have a point."

Reaching over, I brush his hair back, untangling it from his lashes. He needs a haircut soon. "Something else is bothering you, Shea. Even when you're pissed, you don't use aggression. Something's tipped the scale. That's why I'm calm. I'm putting my emotions aside to help you deal with yours."

Shea unzips his thin raincoat. He grabbed it from Ian's vehicle as soon as we left Connor and them behind. From the inside pocket, he removes an envelope. It's already been opened, and when he hands it to me, I flip it over and remove the paper inside.

After unfolding the paper, my eyes skim the written portion.

By the time I'm done, tears are leaking down my cheeks.

It's a scholarship offer from Boston University.

"Shea..."

"I'm declining it."

His voice is dismissive and hopeless. It almost breaks my heart. "No, you're not. You are going, Shea. This is a scholarship! You'd be a fool to decline."

He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up again. "I'm a fool either way, Brenna! If I leave, my sister suffers from my selfish parents. If I stay, I miss out on hockey. My family is more important. God, I'm so fucking sick of this shit! Nothing makes sense and everything is falling apart. No matter what I do, it just gets worse. Or when I solve something, another problems pops up."

I cross my arms, making sure the letter doesn't bend. He needs to have this thing framed and hung on his wall. "Then you miss out on making the NHL."

His posture slouches even more. And the expression on his face breaks me. "That too."

My heart breaks all over again. Shea knows he's good enough to make the NHL. No doubt lingers in his voice. A tear slips down my cheek. "Go. Promise me you will."

He throws his hands up in the air. "But what if I don't want to leave you? Or my friends? What if I miss home too much? And what about Chelsea? I can't leave her here!"

His voice cracks, and for the first time, Shea Smith begins to cry.

No, he's not crying.

He's sobbing.

He presses the heels of his hands against his eyes. "I c-can't do this anymore! Why can't life be simple? It's... it's supposed to be e-easy!"

As much as I want to cry, I centre myself. Shea needs my support.

Reaching over, I tip his chin up and grip his wrists. Tears stain his cheeks and his eyes are red. "Life is never easy, Shea. Decisions are the hardest part. Are they wrong or right? We don't want them to hurt other people, but we also want them to benefit ourselves. But Shea? As much as we love each other, we still have our lives ahead of us. There will be obstacles. And... and maybe university is an obstacle. Don't let our relationship prevent you from fulfilling your dream. Go to that fucking school. Accept the scholarship. Play hockey and make the NHL. You've worked too hard to give up your dreams. Everyone deserves a shot at their dreams. That's my stance on the situation. I can't speak for your friends or family. But I think you should go. Because if two people love each other enough, they will make it work no matter what. And I'm willing to try. To make this work after we graduate high school."

He pulls me into his arms, burying his face in my neck. His tears are hot against my cool skin. "I love you, Bren."

My arms tighten around him. "I love you, too, Shea."