All Chapters of Stuck between Hockey Player and his Quarterback Brother: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

82 Chapters

A Twist of Deceit

He was at the curb, trying to get into an Uber that had just pulled up. He was struggling with the door and his crutches.I grabbed the door handle before he could close it.“Evans, listen to me!” I pleaded, breathless. “He cornered me! He kissed me! I pushed him away!”Evans looked at me from the back seat. His face was a mask of pain—physical and emotional.“I saw you, Tamine,” he said, his voice hollow. “You were standing right there. You let him get close. You went to his party.”“You told me to come!” I shouted, tears spilling over. “You told me to keep the disguise!”“The disguise was supposed to be fake,” Evans whispered. “That... that looked real.”He slammed the door shut.“Go,” he told the driver.I stood on the curb, watching the taillights fade into the night. The party raged on behind me, but I felt completely, utterly alone.Atlas had won. He hadn't just broken Evans’s ankle. He had broken us.Chapter 28The Cold FrontSunday was a black hole.I spent twenty-four hours s

I Choose You

"Am I?" he challenged, hobbling toward me until he was towering over me. "Because last night, I felt pretty stupid. I felt like the idiot younger brother who thought he could actually compete with the quarterback.""It wasn't a competition!" I shouted, frustration boiling over. "He cornered me! He grabbed me! I pushed him away, Evans! If you had stayed for five more seconds, you would have seen me slap him!""I saw enough," Evans spat, leaning down, his face inches from mine. "I saw you at his party. I saw you let him touch you. I saw you... comfortable.""I was terrified!" I cried. "I went there because you told me to! I was playing the role you wrote for me!""Well, maybe you're too good of an actress," he countered, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Because it looked real, Tamine. It looked like you finally made your choice. You want the winner? You got him. Atlas won. He broke my ankle, he won the weekend, and he got the girl.""He didn't get me!" I yelled, shoving his c

The Fallout Begins

The drive was quiet, but it wasn't the heavy silence of the theater or the tense silence of the library. It was comfortable. The heated seats warmed my frozen bones, and the soft hum of the engine was a lullaby compared to the chaos of my life.Evans navigated the streets with practiced ease, driving with his right foot while his booted left leg rested awkwardly near the door. He kept glancing over at me, as if checking to make sure I was still there."You okay?" he asked as we turned off the main avenue and into the maze of cracked pavement and chain link fences that marked my part of town."I'm fine," I said, staring out the window. "Just... tired.""We're going to fix this," Evans said, reaching across the console to take my hand. "Atlas thinks he won the weekend. But he doesn't know about the ankle. He doesn't know I played on it. When the doctors clear me""Evans, stop," I said softly. "You don't have to prove anything to him. Or to me.""I know," he squeezed my fingers. "But I w

The Fallout

I didn't sleep. I spent the night sitting on the floor of my bedroom, listening to my mother pass out in the living room, staring at the screen of my phone. The notification had come through at 2:00 AM. A single ping that sounded like a gunshot in the silent house. Blackridge Buzz: New Video Uploaded. I hadn't watched it. I didn't need to. I had lived it. But the comments... I couldn't stop reading the comments. “Omg is that her mom?” “Evans Thorpe was at THAT house?” “Explains why she wears those hoodies. Hiding the smell of cheap gin.” “Trailer trash trying to marry up. Classic.” By the time the sun dragged itself over the horizon, painting my peeling walls in gray light, the video had 4,000 views. I debated staying home. I debated faking sick, dropping out, moving to a different state. But staying home meant staying with her. And after last night, I couldn't look my mother in the eye without remembering the sound of that bottle smashing near Evans’s foot. So, I put on my ar

The Dean's List

I sat on the cold concrete curb for twenty minutes, my breath hitching in jagged, ugly gasps. The school parking lot was empty now, save for a few distant cars and the ever-present hum of the highway.I had done it. I had nuked the only good thing in my life to save it from the fallout of my own existence.“I don’t need you to save me.”The lie tasted like ash in my mouth. I did need saving. I needed Evans. I needed his car, his warmth, his stupid jokes about Greek mythology. But I couldn't have him. Not with the video of my mother circling the internet like a vulture. Not with Charlotte holding the leash.My phone buzzed. I flinched, expecting another notification from Blackridge Buzz.It was an email.From: Office of Dean Vance Subject: Urgent Meeting - Scholarship ReviewMy stomach dropped through the pavement.Dean Vance. The man who held the keys to my future. The man who had signed off on the "Blackridge Opportunity Grant" that allowed a girl from the duplexes to walk these marb

The Dead End

The bass in the club always vibrated in my teeth. It was a physical sensation, a rhythmic thumping that usually helped me drown out the world. But tonight, it just felt like a headache keeping time with my heartbeat.Thursday night. Three days since the video went viral. Three days since Dean Vance threatened my scholarship. Three days since I blocked Evans Thorpe.I wiped down the bar counter for the hundredth time, the smell of sanitizer mixing with the spilled lager and lime wedges. My phone was in my back pocket, silent. I had turned off notifications. I couldn't handle seeing the Blackridge Buzz updates or the empty void where Evans’s texts used to be.“Table four needs a refill on the pitcher,” my manager, Rick, shouted over the music. He tossed a rag at me. “And smile, Jordan. You look like you’re at a wake.”“I am,” I muttered, grabbing the pitcher.I navigated the crowded floor, dodging groping hands and spilled drinks. The club was packed with the usual Thursday crowd colleg

The Golden Cage

The box had arrived at noon.It was sleek, black, and heavy, tied with a gold ribbon. There was no card. No note. Just the Blackridge crest embossed on the lid and a courier standing on my porch, looking nervously at the peeling paint of my front door.I opened it in my bedroom, the only sanctuary I had left.Inside, nestled in layers of tissue paper, was a dress.It wasn't just a dress; it was a statement. It was floor-length, made of a heavy, shimmering gold silk that looked like liquid metal. It had a plunging neckline and a slit that went dangerously high up the thigh. It was beautiful. It was expensive.It was a collar.I stared at it for an hour, feeling the urge to take a pair of scissors to the fabric. But I couldn't. This was the uniform. If I wanted to survive Dean Vance, if I wanted to keep Evans safe from his own father, I had to wear the colors.Gold. The color of the Thorpes. The color of ownership.At 6:30 PM, I showered, scrubbing my skin until it was raw, trying to wa

The Trophy Case

The gold dress was hanging in the back of my closet, shrouded in plastic like a crime scene evidence bag. I hadn’t touched it since Saturday night, but I could still feel the weight of it on my skin cold, constricting, and heavy.Monday morning didn't bring the usual dread of the bus stop. Instead, it brought the low purr of a black sedan idling in my driveway at 7:15 AM sharp.I walked out of the house. My mother was watching from the window, a cigarette burning between her fingers. She didn't wave. She just stared, her expression a mix of relief and something that looked uncomfortably like envy. She thought I had won the lottery. She didn't realize I had just sold the ticket to pay her debts.I slid into the passenger seat of Atlas’s car. The interior smelled of leather and the expensive, spicy cologne that now clung to my own clothes no matter how many times I washed them."You're late," Atlas said without looking at me. He put the car in gear. "Thirty seconds late.""I couldn't fi

The Blackout

That night, I showed up at the club for my shift. Rick looked surprised to see me."Thought you'd be retired by now," he grunted, gesturing to the gossip sites on his phone. "Word is you're royalty again.""I need the hours, Rick," I said, tying my apron on tight. "Put me on the back bar. Please. I just want to work."He put me in the VIP lounge the dark, secluded area upstairs where the high rollers and the fake ID crowd converged. It was quieter there, usually.Around 11:00 PM, the energy shifted. The downstairs bass thumped through the floorboards.I was wiping glasses when the VIP door swung open.A group of guys stumbled in. Hockey players.My heart hammered.It was Ryker, two defensemen, and… Evans.Evans wasn't on crutches. He was leaning heavily on Ryker, hopping on his good foot, his boot dragging. He looked drunk already. His eyes were glassy, his hair wild.They collapsed into the corner booth the one furthest from the bar, thank god."Whiskey!" Ryker shouted. "Bottle. The

The Spare

If Atlas found him like this incapacitated, vulnerable, with Charlotte staging photos it would be the end. He would use it to humiliate Evans, to get him kicked off the team for substance abuse. It was the "safety issue" Dean Vance had warned about."Move," I said."Make me," Charlotte sneered.I didn't hesitate. I grabbed a pitcher of ice water from the table and threw it.Not at her. At the floor in front of her.The glass shattered, water and ice exploding across her expensive heels. Charlotte shrieked, jumping back, slipping on the slick surface."You psycho!" she screamed, clutching the table for balance.I used the distraction. I grabbed Evans’s arm, hauling him up. He was dead weight, heavy and limp."Evans, you have to walk," I grunted, getting my shoulder under his arm. "Come on. Please.""Heavy..." he slurred, his feet dragging."I know. Lean on me."I dragged him away from the booth, toward the service exit. It was closer than the main stairs."You're going to regret this!"

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