Two

ADRIAN'S POV

I slammed the front door so hard the glass pane rattled in its frame.

My knuckles were still raw from gripping my hockey stick during practice, but the stinging pain in my hands was nothing compared to the violent, chaotic noise tearing through my head.

"You're home early," my father said, stepping out of the kitchen with a dish towel thrown over his shoulder. Richard Kessaro looked relaxed, a warm, soft smile resting on his face that made my stomach turn inside out. "How was practice? Did you and the team sort out the power play strategy?"

"Practice was fine," I snapped, tossing my duffel bag onto the hardwood floor with a heavy thud. I ripped off my jacket, refusing to look him in the eye. "Until Elliot opened his mouth. The guy lives to ruin my day."

My father sighed, setting the towel down on the back of the couch. "Adrian... sit down. We need to talk."

Something in his tone made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. It wasn't his sharp, coaching voice. It was quiet. Heavy. Cautious.

I didn't sit. I folded my arms across my chest, planting my feet near the staircase. "I'm not in the mood for a lecture about sportsmanship, Dad. If this is about the press conference—"

"It's not about hockey, Adrian," Richard interrupted gently. He took a deep breath, looking at me with an intensity that made the room feel suddenly smaller. "I've been seeing someone. For a long time now. And last night... I asked her to marry me. She said yes."

I stared at him. The silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating.

"Okay..." I said slowly, trying to process the sudden shift. My father hadn't dated anyone seriously since my mother walked out on us fifteen years ago. He had devoted his entire life to raising me, dragging me to morning practices, and sitting on cold arena bleachers. "I mean... good for you, Dad. Who is she?"

Richard swallowed hard. His eyes flickered with anxiety, a subtle shift that sent a cold spike of dread straight into my chest.

"It's Maria," he said softly. "Maria Sorelli."

The world stopped spinning. Every drop of blood drained from my face, leaving my skin feeling like ice.

"Maria..." I choked out, the name tasting like poison on my tongue. "As in... Elliot’s mother?"

"Yes," Richard said, taking a cautious step toward me. "Look, I know you and Elliot have never gotten along. I know how deep your rivalry goes, but Maria and I—"

"Are you out of your mind?!" I roared, my voice exploding off the high ceilings of the living room. The anger burst out of me like a dam breaking, wild, desperate, and completely unchecked. "You're marrying her? Of all the women in this city, you pick the mother of the one person I can't stand?"

"Adrian, calm down and listen to me—"

"No! I won't calm down!" I slammed my hand against the wooden railing of the stairs, the crack echoing like a gunshot. "You can't do this! You can't just decide to bring him into our lives!"

"He isn't a stranger, Adrian! You've known Elliot since primary school!" Richard argued, his own temper finally flaring.

"That's the damn problem!" I screamed, my chest heaving, tears of pure, agonizing frustration burning behind my eyes.

He didn't get it. Nobody got it.

Every single year of my life had been built around keeping my distance from Elliot while desperately trying to stay in his orbit. Every argument, every hostile look, every time I shoved him against the glass on the ice—it was the only way I could handle being near him without losing my mind. I had spent years watching him from across the rink, tracking every movement, memorizing the sharp, perfect line of his jaw, knowing that he would never look at me as anything more than an obstacle to destroy.

And now? Stepbrothers. Legally bound. Forced under the same roof.

It was a nightmare. If he became my stepbrother, every door shut completely. Every silent hope I had carried in the back of my mind—the foolish, pathetic dream that maybe, somewhere down the line, I could make him see me differently—was dead. Buried.

"Don't you even care about me?!" I yelled, my voice cracking under the weight of the panic clawing at my throat. "Don't you care what I think? You can't just throw him into my house! You're ruining my life!"

"That's enough, Adrian!" Richard's voice boomed through the room, sharp and authoritative.

He stepped directly in front of me, his face rigid, his eyes stern.

"I have spent fourteen years putting your life, your hockey, and your feelings ahead of everything else," my father said, his tone dropping into a hard, unbreakable line. "When your mother left us, I swore I would protect you. I did that. But I am lonely, Adrian. Maria makes me happy. She is the first woman in fifteen years who makes me feel alive, and I am not going to let my son's childish grudges ruin the only chance at happiness I have left."

I stood frozen, the harsh truth of his words slapping me back into silence.

"I'm sorry it's complicated with Elliot," Richard added, his voice softening slightly, though his resolve didn't break. "I really am. But we are getting married. You are both adults, professional athletes, and men. You are going to make do with it, and you are going to treat Maria and Elliot with respect. End of discussion."

My father turned on his heel and walked into his office, shutting the door firmly behind him.

I stood at the bottom of the stairs, my body shaking with a violent, overwhelming rage that had nowhere to go. I turned and practically threw myself up the steps, rushing into my bedroom and slamming the door shut.

I locked it, leaning my back against the wood, sliding down until my knees were pulled tight against my chest. The room was quiet, dark, and utterly cold.

I dragged my hands through my hair, gripping the strands tight enough to hurt.

I hated him. I hated his cold, analytical eyes. I hated the way he looked at me like I was a problem to be solved. And more than anything, I hated myself for being completely, helplessly trapped by a man who would never love me back.

My father thought this was just about a hockey rivalry. He thought I was just throwing a childish tantrum because I didn't want to share a house with my rival.

He had no idea.

I stared blindly at the floor, the dark truth crushing every last bit of air out of my lungs.

My life just got completely ruined.