Broken Elite: An Angsty College Romance

Chapter Two

Patrick

"I didn't realize we could show up whenever we feel like it," Andre, our goalie and president of Phi Delta Theta calls over his shoulder when I walk into the locker room. I've wanted to kick his ass since freshman year, but I haven't because his dad is our coach.

I glance around the room, and I realize that I must be further behind schedule than I thought. Besides Andre, there's only four guys still in the locker room. They're my guys, my crew. We're like a family, and I'm not surprised that they're waiting around to see if I'm ok or out doing something destructive. Andre's only here because he can be. There are no rules for him, and he knows it.

Tommy whistles under his breath, always trying to break the tension with his stupid humor. I used to laugh at him, I used to think he was funny, but now everything annoys me. I'm late because I had a mandatory therapy appointment with a university counselor. She's diagnosed me with PTSD, which is bullshit, but I'm not fighting her on it. I have my moments when I just lose it and start ripping everything apart. In the last month, I've destroyed my room more times than I'm proud of. I never remember that part, I never remember yelling for Everly, but I do. Every fucking time. I'm not allowed to attend classes or play hockey unless I meet with the counselor. It's not helping for shit, but I can't lose hockey. I've already lost everything else, I won't let that happen.

I chuck my bag on the bench and open my locker, pulling out my gear, ignoring Andre's comments. I need to save my aggression for the ice, or I'm going to end up in more trouble than I'm already in. I feel like I'm hanging on by a thread, and if anyone gives me a reason to snap, I'll gladly take it.

"Did you hear me, Carter? Were you too busy with your girlfriend to show up on time?" Andre taunts as he stands by the door leading out to the ice. "Oh wait, you stopped fucking her when she killed your sister, right?" He snickers, and all the air leaves my chest in a harsh whoosh.

Henry bangs his fist on his already closed locker one time, and If I didn't know him better, I'd think it was an accident.

"Shut the fuck up." Henry's English accent does its job of masking his anger. His tone is cold, even, despite the curse. I know I can count on him if I need backup, but I won't need it. After seeing Everly, feeling her in my hands, and then pushing her away, I'm looking for a reason to fuck Andre up. And I won't need any assistance.

Andre ignores Henry and starts in on me again. "If she's not your girl anymore, I guess you won't give a fuck what I do with her then?" As I wheel around to tell him to shut his fucking mouth, he's grinning at me. "Don't worry, I'll give her back to you when I'm done with her."

Before anyone can blink I'm on him. I don't even know what my fists are connecting with, and I can't feel the pain that I know should be there. It takes both Henry and Zach to pull me off of the motherfucker. When my vision isn't blurry and my breathing is normal, I see Miles and Tommy helping Andre up off the floor and onto the bench. His mouth is bleeding all over his jersey, and I'm glad to see he's winded.

I've cooled my temper enough, but my words are seething. "If you touch her, you'll pray to die." I look him in his dull, dark grey eyes, dead serious, meaning every word. I might hate her, hate what she let happen, but she's still mine and he better not fucking touch her.

"We'll see," he wagers, but I don't bite.

Henry stands between us. "Next time I won't pull him off of you, understand me?" I've known Henry less time than any of the other guys because he's a transfer student, but he's my closest friend. Other than Everly, he's the one person who really understands me and my process.