“Get the fuck out of my house,” he yells, pointing a shaking finger at me. “And don’t ever, ever talk to my daughter ever again.”
“What the fuck is going on?” I wipe blood from my lip. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Don’t lie.” Trace’s face twists with anger. “You know exactly what you did.”
“I really fucking don’t.” I roll to my side to stand up and Trace backs a step away, his hands fisting at his sides like he’s trying to h
old himself back from hitting me again.
“Imagine my surprise when I wake up this morning and find your face on the news.”
“For what?” I ask incredulously. “I didn’t fucking do anything.” My eyes dart to Olivia where she holds onto Grace. Olivia looks … sad … weary. Fuck, something bad is happening and I don’t know what the hell it is. “Whatever it is, it has to be a lie. My coach is out to get me, he—”
“I’m sure he is out to get you,” Trace spits, getting right up in my face. “I would be too if you’d raped my sixteen-year-old daughter.”
Grace gasps from the other side of the room and cries out.
“He’s a fucking liar,” I hiss between my teeth.
I’m going to kill him. I’m really and truly going to kill my coach. All I want is to get my hands around his neck and choke him until the light disappears from his eyes.
First he took hockey away from me, the only true love I thought I had, and now that I’ve found Grace—the real meaning of love, someone that understands me and I see myself having a future with—he’s going to take that away from me too.
He’s fucking up my life and I won’t stand for it. I’m done.
I forget about Trace and stride across the room to Grace. Olivia tightens her hold on her daughter and glares at me. “Stay away,” she says coldly. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough?”
I won’t be defeated that easily, though. “Grace, baby, please talk to me. You know me. You know I wouldn’t do that. He’s lied about everything else, you know he’s lying about this too. Please, baby, please,” I beg. I’ve never fucking begged in my life but I love this girl and I need her to believe me. I would never do something like this. I’ve never even met his daughter. Okay, maybe once in a brief passing, but she never hangs around the players. She lives with her mom in another state since her parents got divorced.
Fuck, I can’t believe the asshole would drag his own daughter into his beef with me.
“Grace, please, talk to me. I didn’t do this. I love you.”
She turns from her mother’s arm, her face streaked with tears, “Just leave, Bennett. Please,” her voice cracks.
I would have rather she yelled at me than to speak so calmly.
Anger I can handle. This resigned Grace, I can’t.
“Sweetheart.” I reach for her hand and she fucking flinches.
“Go.” She flicks her head toward the door of her room.
My shoulders sag and I exhale a heavy breath—all the fight leaving me.
I don’t know what to do or say, because the truth …
The truth is never enough.
I’ve been back on campus for two weeks and people still stare and whisper as I pass. Everyone’s talking about the scandal with Bennett and his coach’s underage daughter. I don’t want to believe it’s real, but the evidence seems to be irrefutable. They even arrested Bennett—seeing that image on my computer sent me into hysterics and I couldn’t go to classes for a whole day—but he got out on bail a short time later.
My parents are urging me to transfer to a school back home, but I know the scandal will only follow me there. People aren’t even that interested in me they just want to hear what I know—which is nothing.
I feel so lost and I hate that. I always thought I was strong enough to stand on my own, that I didn’t need a man, and I don’t, but I want Bennett. He made me a better person but apparently he’s not a good person. I mean, I knew that he’d had a shady past and slept with a lot of women, but his coach’s underage daughter? I never would’ve thought he’d stoop that low. I guess it goes to show you that you never really know someone.
I adjust my backpack straps and walk as fast as I can across campus without slipping on some ice.
“Excuse me? Grace?”