Fractured Desire

Chapter 5

The rink emptied in fragments, like broken glass swept into piles. The hockey boys scattered with their tails between their legs, laughter and bruises trailing behind them. Hunter stayed, though. Of course he did. Leaning against the barrier like he owned the air I was breathing, watching me peel off my skates with eyes that felt like knives.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” he said, his voice low and scratchy.

I yanked at the lace, knot refusing to budge. “I don’t think. I know.”

“You humiliated my team.”

I finally tugged the skate free and hurled it onto the bench beside me, shrugging. “They humiliated themselves. I just provided the stage lighting.”

Hunter smirked. That lazy, infuriating smirk that made my skin crawl and my stomach do that horrible flip. “You’re mouthy for someone who cries when she gets home.”

The words slammed into me, sharper than anything. I froze, hands tightening around the edge of the bench. My chest burned with the rage that always lived under my skin.

“f**k you,” I spat, glaring at him.

“You wish.”

He pushed off the barrier and strolled out like he’d won something. Like he always did.

The other girls gathered their bags, still giggling and replaying the spectacle of the boys tripping over themselves. I loved them, but god, their laughter grated, too shiny, too easy. Lila threw her arm around my shoulders, sticky lip gloss smearing near my cheek.

“You slaughtered them, Swan,” she said, laughing. “Seriously, I’ve never seen a grown man hit the ice so hard.”

“Yeah,” I muttered, shrugging her off gently. “They deserved it.”

But the laughter felt like static in my ears. I wanted silence. Or screaming. Nothing in between.

By the time I slipped outside, night had swallowed the car park. Damp concrete, yellow streetlights buzzing like they were ready to explode. Jax leaned against the hood of his rusted car, cigarette glowing between his fingers, eyeliner smudged even worse than earlier.

“Bobby Swan,” he said with a crooked smile. “Hero of the night.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why not? You made Hunter’s little hockey army look like toddlers on roller skates. That deserves a title.”

I slumped against the car next to him, stealing the cigarette without asking. It burned my throat, harsh and real.

“He gets under my skin,” I admitted, exhaling smoke into the heavy night. “Like… he knows exactly where to dig.”

Jax studied me, eyes softer than his smirk. “And you let him. That’s the f****d part.”

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. The truth was ugly and raw and knotted inside me.

Instead, I flicked ash onto the ground and stared up at the sickly glow of the lights. My head felt too fast, thoughts sprinting, heart thudding, skin itching like it couldn’t contain me. I hated it. I hated how much energy I had when I was this way, like I could conquer the f*****g universe and also shatter into dust at the same time.

“You’re buzzing,” Jax said, reading me like always. “Too loud in there, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I whispered.

He handed me another cigarette, and I lit it with shaking hands. The smoke steadied me, gave me something solid to hold onto.

“You coming to the party?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Might.”

“You will,” he said with certainty. “You need it. Chaos for chaos.”

The door to the rink slammed open then, and Hunter stepped out, helmet under his arm, grin cutting through the night. He spotted me instantly, because of course he did, like I was a magnet for disaster.

“Well, well,” he said, strolling toward us. “Look who’s hanging out with eyeliner boy.”

“Better eyeliner boy than brain-dead puck chaser,” I snapped.

Jax laughed, flicking his cigarette at Hunter’s shoes. “She’s got you pegged, mate.”

Hunter ignored him, eyes locked on me. “Careful, Swan Lake. Keep running your mouth and I might just shut you up.”

I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. “Try me.”

For a second, the air between us felt sharp enough to slice open. Then he smirked, turned on his heel, and disappeared into the night.

I hated him. I hated how alive I felt when he was near.