Forced To Room With My Hockey Rival

TWO

Moxie’s POV

I rushed to my room after Dustin finally let me go, locking the door behind me out of fear. I pulled myself over to my dresser, and when my eyes caught the mirror, I couldn’t help but pause to see my own pitiful reflection.

A bruise was already forming along my cheekbone, dark and spreading beneath my skin. My lip was swollen. My hair hung in tangled strands around my face. For a long moment, I just stared at myself. It was strange.

Months ago, I had been someone else entirely.

Someone bright and confident. Someone who stood on the ice with a hockey stick in her hands and didn’t fear anything.

Now the girl staring back at me looked like a stranger.

My chest tightened, and I quickly turned away from the mirror. I didn’t want to look at her anymore. I was ashamed of how I was now.

I sank onto the bed and hugged my knees tightly to my chest. My hands were shaking, and I pressed them against my face, trying to hold back the sob building in my throat. But it didn’t work. The tears came anyway.

They slipped through my fingers and fell onto my knees while my shoulders trembled. I didn’t cry loudly. I had learned not to.

Even unconscious, Dustin sometimes woke suddenly. And the last thing I wanted was for him to wake up angry again. So I buried my face in my arms and cried silently. I was tired, so tired of this situation I was in. I wanted to get out already, to be rescued and saved.

My phone buzzed suddenly on the nightstand. The sound startled me so badly I nearly jumped.

For a second, I just stared at the screen, my vision still blurry from tears. An unfamiliar number flashed across the display, and I hesitated.

Almost no one called me anymore. I had cut ties with most people after moving in with Dustin. It had been easier that way.

The phone buzzed again, urging me to pick it up. Slowly, I reached out and answered. “Hello?” I tried my best not to sound broken as I spoke.

For a moment, there was silence on the other end. Then a voice burst through the speaker.

“Moxie?!” A girl screamed, and my heart nearly stopped.

“Quince?” I sat up so quickly my head spun.

It had been months since I last heard her voice, but I would recognize it anywhere. Quince had been my best friend in high school. We had met during freshman year when she accidentally slammed into me in the hallway and spilled an entire bottle of sports drink on my hockey jersey.

She had apologized so dramatically that I ended up laughing instead of getting mad. From that moment on, we were inseparable.

We studied together, ate lunch together, and even planned our futures together. We had promised we would attend the same college after graduation. But life had other plans. After my parents died and my uncle stole everything, Quince’s own family situation changed, too. Her mother remarried and moved to another city.

We tried to stay in touch at first. But distance and chaos slowly pulled us apart.

I never told her what happened after I moved in with Dustin. “Moxie, why haven’t you answered my messages for months?” Quince demanded. Her voice sounded the same as always, loud, impatient, and full of energy.

I wiped my face quickly. “I’ve been busy,” I murmured.

There was a pause. Then Quince’s tone changed. “Moxie… are you crying?” She asked, and my eyes widened. How could she tell?

My throat tightened. “No.” I lied to her.

“Don’t lie to me.” Her words were sharp but worried.

For a moment, I tried to keep pretending everything was fine. But something about hearing her voice again cracked open the wall I had built around myself. The truth spilled out before I could stop it.

“Dustin hit me again.” I choked out. There was silence on the other end for a few seconds, and then Quince exploded.

“HE DID WHAT?!”

I flinched and quickly lowered the volume.

“Keep your voice down,” I whispered instinctively.

“Moxie,” she said, her voice trembling with anger, “tell me you’re joking.”

“I wish I was.” I bit my lip and explained how Dustin had been physically abusing me this whole time. Then Quince inhaled slowly.

“For how long?” she asked.

The question made my stomach twist. “Six months,” I answered truthfully, and there was another pause on the call.

When she spoke again, her voice was deadly calm. “Pack your things.” She demanded, and my heart skipped.

“What?”

“I’m coming to get you.”

“You don’t even know where I live,” I said weakly.

“I can find out.”

“Quince—”

“No,” she cut me off. “You are not staying there another night.” Her determination was so fierce it left me speechless.

“I can’t just leave,” I murmured. “I still owe him money.”

“Are you serious right now?”

“He paid for my last semester of tuition,” I explained quietly. “I promised I’d repay him.”

Quince made an exasperated sound. “Moxie, he’s beating you. I don’t care about the stupid money.” She snapped.

“I do.”

The room fell silent again. Finally, Quince sighed. “Fine,” she muttered. “Bring whatever money you have. But you’re leaving tonight.”

“You’re really coming?”

“I’m already on the road.”

My eyes widened. “Wait… what?” I gasped.

“I said I’m coming,” she repeated. “Stay in your room and don’t let that psycho see you. I already got his address, I’ll be there soon.” The call ended shortly after that.

I stared at the dark screen in disbelief. Quince was coming. For the first time in months, a tiny spark of hope flickered inside my chest. Hours passed slowly while I paced across the room nervously. I didn’t dare sleep. Instead, I sat on the edge of the bed, clutching the envelope of cash I had planned to give him earlier that night.

Finally, my phone buzzed again, and I rushed to pick it up. There was a message from Quince.

“I’m outside.” I read it out loud, and my heart started pounding. Slowly, carefully, I opened my bedroom door.

The hallway was dark. Dustin still lay sprawled across the couch, one arm hanging off the side. Empty bottles littered the floor around him. He looked completely unconscious.

My chest tightened as I stepped into the living room. For a moment, I stood there, staring at him. Six months of fear and pain condensed into that single silent moment. Then I walked to the table and placed the envelope of money on its surface—every cent I owed him.

I got up and walked towards the front door. Opening the door gently, I stepped outside. The cool night air hit my face immediately. For a second, I just stood there breathing it in.

Then I saw the car parked in front of the house. My steps slowed because someone was sitting in the driver’s seat. Even in the dim streetlight, I recognized him instantly. My stomach dropped.

No way.

Leaning casually behind the steering wheel was the last person I ever expected to see tonight. The arrogant jerk from the state hockey tournament—the guy who had been my fiercest rival on the ice. I remembered exactly how infuriating he had been. And now he was staring directly at me. Heat flooded my face as sudden embarrassment froze me in place.

I was wearing loose sweatpants and an oversized hoodie. My hair was messy. My face still carried fresh bruises. The last time he saw me, I had been standing proudly in my hockey uniform with a crowd cheering around us. Now I looked like a wreck. My feet refused to move. The passenger door suddenly flew open.

“Moxie!”

Before I could react, Quince jumped out and rushed toward me.

She looked almost the same as I remembered, glowing even more now. The moment she reached me, she pulled me into a tight hug.

“You i***t,” she muttered into my shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I didn’t want to burden you,” I whispered.

Quince pulled back and examined my face. Her expression darkened immediately. “That bastard, I’ll get back at him someday.” She turned toward the car. “If he wasn’t passed out right now—”

“I’m okay,” I interrupted quickly.

Quince looked like she wanted to argue, but instead she grabbed my wrist. “Come on.”

She practically dragged me toward the car. I resisted slightly when we reached the passenger door.

“Quince,” I whispered urgently.

“What?”

I tilted my head toward the driver’s seat.

“Why is he here?”

Quince blinked. Then she glanced at the driver. “Oh.” She waved her hand casually. “Relax. He’s with me.” She said with a soft smile. That didn’t make me feel any better. The guy inside the car was still watching us with that same annoyingly calm expression.

Quince noticed my hesitation and rolled her eyes.

“Moxie, stop overthinking.” She shoved me gently into the passenger seat. I sat stiffly while she circled to the back. The door slammed behind her. For a moment, the car was quiet. Then Quince leaned forward between the seats.

“Oh, right. I forgot introductions.” She pointed toward the driver. “This is my stepbrother.”

My brain froze. “Stepbrother?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.