Chapter 59 Chapter 59
I sat at the kitchen table, the atmosphere so thick with tension I could practically taste the copper in the air. Across from me, she sat—Zayelle—picking at a bowl of pomegranate seeds like she was dissecting a heart. My mother was at the stove, her back to us, humming a nervous, shaky tune that didn't hide the fact that her hands were trembling. Her father sat at the head of the table, hidden behind a newspaper that felt more like a shield than a reading choice.
The silence was a bruise. The "perfect" home setting had become a pressure cooker.
"Pass the salt, Cass," Zayelle said, her voice smooth, almost melodic. She looked at me, her eyes tracking the dark circles under mine. "You look tired. Writing another manifesto?"
"Zayelle, leave her alone," my mom whispered, finally turning around. Her eyes were pleading. She just wanted this blended-family dream to work, but she was living in a nightmare of our making.
I didn't answer. I just looked at the doorway. He was there—the brother, Marvin—his hockey bag slung over his shoulder, his face still bruised from the reservoir. He looked at me, then at Jace, who was leaning against the counter, nursing a coffee he hadn't touched.
"Big game tonight," Marvin said, his voice a low rasp. He looked at Jace, a dark, predatory light in his eyes. "You ready to lose that 'Golden Boy' status on the ice, or are you going to hide behind her again?"
"I’ll be there, Marvin," Jace said calmly, though I saw the muscle in his jaw twitch. "Try not to take anyone’s head off this time."
The School Courtyard: Blackmail and Buzz
The moment I stepped onto campus, Lena was on me like a shadow. She grabbed my arm and pulled me behind the brick pillars of the gym.
"Cass, you will not believe the tea," she hissed, her eyes wide. "I saw Marvin in the parking lot ten minutes ago. He was cornering Jacinta. He told her if she didn't tell the principal that she was the one who leaked the video—the one that got him in trouble last week—he’d show everyone the messages she sent him about cheating on the midterm."
"He’s blackmailing her?" I asked, my heart sinking. "He’s really that desperate?"
"He’s a cornered animal, Cass," Lena said, checking over her shoulder. "And Jacinta looked terrified. But that’s not the worst part. Zayelle is telling everyone in the locker room that you and Jace are 'on a break' and that he spent the night in her room talking about the past."
I felt the familiar sting of Zayelle’s venom. She wasn't just trying to break us; she was trying to rewrite history, making herself the only person Jace could lean on.
"She’s delusional, Lena."
"She’s in love, Cass," Lena countered. "The dangerous kind. The kind that thinks if she burns the world down, he’ll have to stand in the ashes with her."
The Hockey Match: Ice and Blood
The arena was a roar of white noise and freezing air. I sat in the front row, Lena clutching my hand so hard my fingers were numb. The rivalry between the twins was no longer a secret; it was the main event.
On the ice, they were flashes of jerseys and sharp steel. Marvin was a wrecking ball, playing a game that was less about the puck and more about the impact. Every time Jace got near him, Marvin checked him into the boards with a sickening thud that echoed in the rafters.
"He's going to hurt him!" Lena screamed over the crowd.
In the third period, it happened. Jace was break-away, the goal in sight. Marvin came out of nowhere, his stick held dangerously high. He didn't play the puck. He played the man. The collision was brutal. Jace went down, his helmet skidding across the ice, his face slamming into the frozen surface.
The whistle blew, a sharp, screaming sound. I stood up, my heart stopping as Jace didn't move.
Marvin stood over him, breathing hard, looking down at his brother with a mix of horror and triumph. But then, slowly, Jace pushed himself up. Blood was dripping from a cut on his brow, staining the white ice a brilliant, terrifying red.
He didn't look at the ref. He didn't look at the crowd. He looked at Marvin.
Jace got back on his skates. On the next play, with blood still wet on his face, he moved like a phantom. He out-skated Marvin, out-maneuvered him, and with a flick of his wrist, sent the puck screaming into the back of the net.
The buzzer sounded. Jace had won. Hands down.
The Home Fallout
We were back in that kitchen two hours later. The adrenaline had faded into a cold, sharp bitterness. Jace sat at the table, a bag of ice pressed to his head, while my mom fussed over him with antiseptic.
Marvin was standing by the sink, his jersey torn, his face a mask of pure, unadulterated shame. He had lost on the ice, and he had lost the blackmail game—Jacinta had gone to the principal and confessed everything, including Marvin’s threats.
"You're done, Marvin," his father said, stepping into the kitchen. The newspaper was gone. The "judge" was back. "The coach called. You’re off the team. And the school board is calling a meeting tomorrow."
Zayelle stood by the fridge, watching the collapse of her brother. She didn't look sad. She looked at Jace, her eyes wide and hungry. She walked over to him, ignoring me entirely, and reached out to touch the ice pack.
"You see, Jace?" she whispered, her voice loud enough for all of us to hear. "I told you. Being with her only brings out the worst in us. Look at what happened to Marvin. Look at your face. If you were with me, this would all go away."
Jace pulled back, his eyes narrowing. "Zayelle, get away from me."
"I love you, Jace!" she cried, the mask finally slipping. "I’ve always loved you! She’s just a girl with a diary. I’m the one who belongs in this house with you!"
The room went dead silent. My mother stopped breathing. Her father looked at his daughter like she was a stranger.
I stood up, taking Jace’s hand—the hand that was bruised from the ice. "He's not a prize, Zayelle. And he's definitely not yours."
The war had moved from the school to the ice, and now, it was finally settled in the one place we were supposed to be safe. Home.