Craving The Wrong Player

-JUNE-~Quinn's Pov~“Miss. Sinclair, the scans show metastatic cancer. It has spread from its original site to multiple organs. Given the aggressiveness and the extent of the tumours, curative treatment is no longer an option. I wish I had better news.”My entire body goes numb. The words don't sound real. They feel like something from a movie, a bad line of dialogue meant to manipulate an audience. But the grim set of Doctor Jane’s mouth is all too real."Lung cancer? How's that even possible? I don't even smoke,” I hear myself say. The protest is weak, pathetic. A last-ditch effort to argue against the inevitable.“I know, Quinn,” Doctor Jane breathes out slowly, switching into a more informal tone. She's been my family's doctor far before I was even born in this very hospital, and that long history makes her diagnosis somehow more credible. More credibly heart-wrenching. “I don't know if you recall the chlorine accident from six years ago?”“I...” My voice trails off as the memory

~Quinn~“So, I'll see you around, huh?” He smiles, biting his lower lip, an action that causes a sudden, warm heat to pool deep underneath my belly as his car rolls to a stop in front of my dorm.“Yes, we'll see,” I grin back, hoping I sound cool and not completely desperate. The entire car ride over here has been surprisingly exciting. He's asked me more questions than I've asked him, like he's genuinely interested in knowing me. When he asks me about my mother's occupation, I quickly lie and say she's a chef at some random restaurant. I just can't tell him she’s the legendary coach who could make or break his entire career.I know lying when you're about to die is probably not a good look for me, but I promise myself I'll tell him the truth soon. If we actually work out, maybe I could even convince my mom to save a slot for him on the national team. It's something she would definitely do for me if I submitted that request along with my doctor's report. He was so nice, so soft, and l

~Ace~ “Really, Ace. You've barely started with the hockey team and look at you, a suspension already?” My father barks through the phone, his voice tight with that familiar mix of anger and disappointment. “He deserved it,” I scoff, the memory flashing back instantly. ‘Maybe you can take this to your dead brother, Blackwood.’ That bastard's words rang in my head as I made my drink order. Fuck him. Fuck Kingsford. Fuck my father and his constant lectures. I've known Kade Salvatore was a prick long before I joined the team. I make it a point to read the profiles of all my potential teammates; it’s a habit. I like to know who I’m dealing with. I never even wanted to go to college in the first place. My parents insisted, stating that a higher education was "good for business." That's really what it all boils down to, isn't it? That's what happens when you're the sole heir to the number one hockey agency in the state. It’s a sickening, constant weight on my shoulders. “You get trigge