War With My Hockey Stepbrother

There were people I didn't like. People I'd rather not have crossed paths with again. And then there was a person named Wade Scott who'd somehow always been in my line of view, no matter what.

He was everyone else's center of attention Kingsley University's pride and joy, with blond hair that was always too perfect to be real, arrogant and searing green eyes. Like God Himself had spent all His time creating the perfect Wade damn Scott.

I tightened my grip on my bag as I took heavy, long strides. Monday mornings had their own special kind of cruelty. But what made it worse was cutting through the hockey building to get to my art studio.

And worst of all? Knowing I was walking back to that awful hockey building after seeing my ruined canvas.

The artwork I had worked on for three months had turned out to be a canvas slashed down the center and vandalized with paint, like someone had taken their frustration out on my art.

"Layla, calm down!" Chloe tried to stop me but I didn't budge.

Calm down? Please. After someone had ruined what I had spent months on? There was no way I was calming down. And there was no way I could submit that in the competition looking like a mess!

My muscles shook as I walked toward the ice arena. I heard them right away even before I saw them skates scraping, loud laughter and teasing. I took a deep breath until I reached the entrance.

I saw the culprit in the center.

I watched him as sweatdamp blond hair peeked out from under his helmet. His striking green eyes stayed locked on the puck while some of his fans chanted his last name. He stood out even across the huge arena.

The way he moved and the way his face made every reaction look straight out of a commercial. The crowd loved him. Girls are smitten with him.

While I wasn't.

I honestly couldn't stand a single thing about him. I'd rather have been anywhere than near him. But now I was forced to face Wade headon, after what he had done to my canvas.

"You were doing that thing again," Chloe said but my eyes stayed on Wade.

"What thing?"

"The 'I want to throw something at his face' thing." I rolled my eyes.

"I honestly wanted to do something worse, Chloe," I said.

And as if he could feel someone watching him, I saw Wade glance my way and tilt his head slightly.

Green met mine. He just stared at me, no reaction at all, no smirk tugging at his lips, no eyebrow raised like he was saying "What the hell are you looking at?"

"Uh oh, Anderson's here!" one of the hockey players shouted. And when someone yelled that in the hockey building, they already knew the reason why.

Wade kept staring at me. No surprise on his face, no amusement like back in middle school when he'd bully and humiliate me with that same look in his eyes and that same damn mouth.

"Were you just gonna stand there watching him, Layla?"

I didn't answer. The longer the silence stretched, the faster I lost patience. My fists clenched in anger. I waited until their game ended, until he stepped off the ice and faced me like he had done nothing wrong.

That jerk had destroyed my painting! I had spent three months on it!

Three months!

When I had gotten to the art building earlier that morning, I had seen my canvas outside like it had been thrown out like trash. And hockey players and his diehard fans were there laughing at it! Crooks.

I had a deadline. I needed to submit this for the competition or my scholarship was gone. And this was what I came back to?! Honestly, I wasn't shocked about who was behind it anymore.

A moment later, their game ended. They got off the ice rink and my anger spiked even more when I heard his teammates laughing; some of them even whistled upon seeing me.

Then I watched Wade step off the ice rink. He took off his skates and stripped off the rest of his gear. Now all he had on were padded hockey pants and a black longsleeved compression shirt that clung to him. Then his eyes landed on me.

"What were you doing here?" he asked in a cold tone.

"We needed to talk," I said sharply.

He stood and he almost towered over me when he walked past. "No, we didn't."

"Layla..." Chloe tried to pull me aside, but I refused to back down.

I followed Wade fast all the way to their locker room. I heard the guys gasp, shocked that a girl had walked in while they were changing. I couldn't have cared less.

"Get out. This wasn't your building," he said without looking at me.

"No," I pushed back.

He turned to me fast. His face darkened and his perfect jaw ticked. He glared at me for a few seconds before he sighed.

"Get out," he said again.

"I told you no"

"Clear out, boys," he said calmly but firmly.

Oh, he wasn't talking to me.

I saw his teammates shake their heads fast and leave without hesitation, doing exactly what Wade wanted.

"Now talk," he commanded.

"Did you enjoy pretending you didn't know what happened, Scott? Like you hadn't just ruined my painting?"

I looked up at him, forcing my voice not to shake with anger. He didn't take his eyes off me, and that irritated me even more.

God, how I hated those eyes.

"I didn't know what I was talking about."

I breathed deep and tried to calm myself. Right. That was his strategy, wasn't it? Not outright denial he just always put distance, always kept enough space between himself and any guilt that people started doubting themselves instead.

Wade Scott wasn't just the beloved hockey captain everyone adored.

He had used to be far worse. I still remembered it middle school hallways, him and his friends humiliating me, ruining the canvases I'd spent weeks on, pouring ketchup on my artworks, turning me into the laughingstock of the whole campus. And he had never once apologized.

"Don't act confused. Weren't you tired of destroying things I worked hard for?"

His jaw tightened slightly. "You were blaming me for something I didn't do. I'm telling you, I didn't touch it." He stared at me sharply like he could eat me alive.

"You really expected me to believe that?"

My lips trembled and he went quiet. Wade's expression shifted. His face darkened. He didn't look exactly angry, but close to it.

"You thought I'd do that to you? Now, Layla, weren't we too old for that?" He tilted his head like he was picking a fight.

What a jerk.

"Yeah, you did."

"You didn't even know what you were saying right then," he said in a calm but sharp tone.

How dare he say that. "I knew what I was saying. And I knew what kind of person you were."

"Layla! Please stop..." I heard Chloe calling from behind. She ran in and grabbed my arm to stop me, but I yanked myself away.

"You were going to regret this," my words came out sharp. He clearly didn't like what I said.

"The next time you looked at me like I had done this to you, you'd better be ready for what I would do in return."

His voice was tight with anger, like he was barely holding back from yelling at me. So he was threatening me now, like I was the one at fault?

"Fine!" I bit out. "If you wanted war, I'd give it to you completely, Wade Scott."

His eyes glinted, and his lip lifted. Something inside me ignited.

"War it is," Wade muttered, an amused, sarcastic look on his face. "Let's see how long we could hate each other living under the same roof."

I held his gaze until I understood what he meant. My hands balled into fists at my sides.

I almost forgot, he wasn't just my problem at school anymore, not just the guy I hated the most, not just the jerk who had sabotaged my painting. He was about to become my family.

And I almost forgot that Wade Scott was my soontobe stepbrother.

The last place I wanted to go on a random Wednesday night was the Scott mansion. But my mom had other plans.

A completely annoying plan.

"Quit looking like you had a problem with the whole world," she said under her breath as we stepped onto the front stairs.

"I was trying," I rolled my eyes and she shook her head.

I looked at the massive estate in front of us.

The mansion looked exactly how I imagined a retired NHL star's house would look huge, expensive, intimidating, and unnecessarily large, like it would take you almost an hour just to get to your room. And unfortunately, this house belonged to Wade Scott's dad, my mom's fiancé.

And there I was, stuck spending the night and eating dinner with them, acting like I didn't want to throw a chair at his son's face.

"Please smile, honey," my mom begged.

I didn't listen, and even before she could scold me, the massive door opened. Two maids stood on either side, and a man in a suit greeted us.

Richard Scott. Wade's father, who looked so much like him that it was almost unsettling. Same blond hair and same green eyes. The only difference was his dad's face looked kinder and warmer.

Which made me question how Wade had turned out the way he did.

"Diana, honey." He hugged and kissed my mom before his attention shifted to me. "Layla, I'm glad you came."

I forced a polite smile.

"Good evening, Mr. Scott," I greeted.

And I knew it would only take a second for my mood to flip.

"Good evening, Ms. Anderson." My smile dropped when someone spoke behind Richard.

I saw the guy with the toopolished look and frowned the second I spotted Wade behind him too. His gaze settled on me immediately, studying my appearance, which made me feel a little selfconscious.

I looked away and fixed my glasses. That stupid look made me want to claw his eyes out so he wouldn't look at me again but it would be a waste of his handsome face if I did.

And by the time we were all sitting at the dining table, I felt like I regretted coming with my mom. I should've stayed in my dorm.

My mom and Richard were the ones doing most of the talking. They told us about their wedding, their future plans, and how many kids they wanted ugh! I just wanted to cover my ears and block it all out.

"What?" I whispered when I saw Wade staring at me with a grin, like he was amused just by my existence.

I gave him a dismissive look, especially when I noticed how comfortably he sat across from me, like he was fine with this wedding. Like it didn't affect him at all. Maybe it really didn't.

He was probably perfectly fine with it. I wasn't.

"So, Layla, I heard your artwork was selected for the competition that would secure your scholarship," Richard said, turning his attention to me.

The words hit differently. For the second time that night, I forced a smile. "It was."

My mom frowned. "Was? What happened?"

My eyes shifted and I stared straight at Wade. "Someone accidentally ruined it."

Wade met my stare. His smooth brow furrowed a little. He didn't look away, like he was challenging me.

"Oh, you poor girl," Richard reacted.

"So that's why you've been upset since Monday? Why didn't you tell me, honey?" She reached over to comfort me, yet my stare never left Wade.

"No need. I was going to take care of the person behind it."

I said it while driving my fork hard into the meat, then focused only on my plate instead. I was so tempted to just walk out without saying goodbye, but I wouldn't stoop that low. Richard quickly changed the subject.

"Speaking of important events, Wade had a game tomorrow."

Tomorrow yeah, of course. Everything always circled back to him: fans, sponsors, overseas opportunities, the press. I sighed. The golden boy's future looked brighter than ever.

"You girls should come watch. It would be a chance for all of us to get used to each other as a family," Richard laughed, and I almost choked. I wanted to gag at the word "family."

"Layla could skip it; she was busy tomorrow," Wade said in a taunting tone.

"Yeah, I couldn't come. There would be too much bad energy, and I'd rather not be around it," I shot back.

"Bad energy, you say? Talking about someone in particular? Interesting choice of words." He laughed quietly, like he was testing my patience.

"Some things just weren't worth watching anyway."

"What exactly are you two talking about?" Richard asked, looking confused.

"Are you two okay?" Mom sighed. "You should try to get along. You'll be sharing a home soon and even have the same last name. Please be good to each other."

My mom reminded us, but I still kept glaring daggers at Wade. I couldn't imagine living under the same roof as him. I'd rather sleep on the streets than breathe the same air.

Dinner ended an hour later. Thank God.

The moment I stepped outside, I expected to finally relax. But my frown stayed fixed when I realized Wade was still right behind me. Our parents were up ahead, talking about how we'd get back.

"It's getting late. Why don't you two ride together? Your dorms were in the same building, right?" my mom suggested, so I shook my head fast.

"I'd go there by myself, Mom."

"Why? It wasn't safe for you to travel alone this late," Richard said.

"Don't push it, Dad. She obviously didn't want to ride home with me," Wade said, spinning his car keys around his finger. He was watching me, smiling like he was daring me to say something.

"I wasn't getting in a car with him, Mom. I'd rather walk all the way back," I shot back, matching his smirk.

I caught his grin out of the corner of my eye. What was so funny? Did he actually think I had forgotten what he pulled the day before?

I felt my mom grip my arm tight. "Layla, please..."

"See? This was exactly why she shouldn't come with me." Wade folded his arms across his chest, calm and unbothered.

"Fine. Both of you stop this," Richard said.

I didn't say anything else and just looked away. His dad clearly didn't understand where all this hatred came from, so he had no choice but to agree.

"Alright then, just take care on your way." I stopped looking at Wade, gave them another forced smile, and waited until a ride arrived.

And as soon as the car pulled up, I should've gone straight back to my dorm but my feet carried me toward the school instead. Only a few students were around, not the usual morning crowd.

I found myself walking toward the hockey building. I went inside the locker room. A terrible idea suddenly popped into my head. Even though I knew exactly what I was doing, my heart still pounded with nervousness as I slipped inside quietly.

My eyes searched for something, and I didn't have trouble finding it. I knew exactly where Wade's stall was it had "Captain" written on it. Of course he got the best spot.

I stared at his equipment for a long time: the gloves, jersey, helmet, stick, and skates. All his gear was laid out neatly, every single piece, like he'd been fully prepared for tomorrow's game all along.

Good.

Maybe now he would finally understand what it felt like to lose something important.

My hands moved before my conscience could stop me, and for the first time since my painting got ruined, I finally felt a strange sense of ease settle in my chest.

Wade Scott wanted a war. Then tomorrow... he was finally going to get one.

My mom and Richard forcefully dragged me to the stadium, both of them acting like that game was the event of the century.

"You would enjoy it, Layla. Come on, watch how good your brother is," Mom said, and I couldn't react at all. He wasn't my brother.

The stadium buzzed around me. Students wore Kingsley's colors, dark blue balloons and caps, and gathered near the mascots. I looked around and saw girls wearing knockoff jerseys Wade's style, with his number and surname printed on them.

"Oh my god, here they come!" Chloe said excitedly.

I would rather have jumped off the bleachers just to get out. But Chloe was impossible to pull away once a hockey game was involved. She was an absolute fan, while I was anything but.

"Number twentyone is cute!" She whispered oh yeah, and she also loved checking out the players.

I looked at the ice rink, then spotted one of Kingsley's players getting ready. He had black hair and familiar brown eyes. He looked right at me and gave a small smile.

"He's looking at you!" Chloe shook my arm.

"Who?"

"Ethan Hayes!"

Oh, I remembered now. One of their teammates. Unlike Wade, Ethan didn't command attention the moment he walked in, but once he started talking, everyone listened.

I had seen him before. He was one of Kingsley's smartest students. If Wade had that overly polished look, Ethan had a sweet smile, but a face that always seemed ready for a fight.

And more often than not, that someone was Wade, their captain.

"He wasn't looking at me," I said and looked away.

"What about Wade?" My brows furrowed.

"What about him?" I asked back.

I knew exactly what she meant, but I said nothing. She was trying to ask if I found Wade attractive.

Sure, Wade Scott had a face perfect enough for a movie star but paired with an attitude that was a constant headache. The worst possible combination.

Chloe was about to speak when murmurs rose all around us.

"Where's my boy?" Richard asked, glancing at his wristwatch as he scanned the area. The whole hockey team walked onto the ice, but Wade was nowhere to be found.

"Wasn't Wade supposed to be here?"

"He was never late. What happened?"

"My god, I came here for Wade. Where was he?"

I saw sponsors and reporters asking their coach, but it was clear they had no idea either.

"Hmm, something felt off," Chloe whispered behind me.

"Layla, have you seen Wade?" his father asked.

I looked away. "No. We didn't come to school together."

To avoid more questions, I focused my attention on the ice. I glanced at Richard again and noticed his brows were drawn tight. For some reason, my stomach twisted, not with guilt, definitely not but with something else.

Something called annoyance.

The crowd kept whispering, proving once again that Wade really was the star of the game, the whole reason for the spotlight that day. I waited a few more minutes to see if he would show up, but he still didn't. I watched one of the referees and a reporter approach a Kingsley staff member, but they got no answers either.

More minutes passed, and still there was no sign of Wade on the ice.

"I'm just going to get a drink," I said.

"If you happen to see Wade, please tell him to come here," his father pleaded.

I gave him a forced, polite smile. "I will."

Before Chloe could call after me, I walked quickly out of the stadium.

Even outside, I could still hear the chatter. The girls holding banners printed with Wade's face looked disappointed. I headed straight for the exit. I didn't plan on going back, and I didn't plan on watching what happened next, because I already knew exactly how it would end.

The noise faded behind me, and I breathed a little easier. I just needed some fresh air, some distance. I thought it was finally

A hand clamped around my wrist out of nowhere. Before I could even react, I was yanked sideways, and I had no clue where the hell I was being taken.

"Are you insane?! Let me go!" I tried to pull free, but his grip was far too strong.

He released me suddenly, then spun around, and frustration was written all over his face. It was Wade of course it was. Only he could look like he was about to snap while still wearing half his hockey uniform.

"What's your "

"Let's talk. Now."

My breath caught the second I saw the raw anger in his eyes. His voice was tight and sharp, and for the first time ever, I actually felt afraid of him. Truly scared.

"No. Why would I go anywhere with you?" I forced the words out, trying to sound braver than I felt.

"Now, Layla," his voice dropped, turning darker. "Don't make me drag you. You know I won't be gentle anymore."

Something in his tone made me pause. He sounded like someone I had never heard before, something far worse. His steps were fast and heavy, and before I knew it, I was trailing behind him.

A minute later, I realized he had brought me straight to their locker room. The rest of the team was already out on the ice, so it was just the two of us. The room was a mess, gear and uniforms his teammates had stripped off lay scattered everywhere.

Then Wade stopped in front of his stall and stepped aside. I looked where he pointed. His space was in disarray. Things were missing, like someone had torn through it searching for something. Maybe earlier that morning, before he arrived... or maybe the night before.

"Care to explain?" His voice was calm, too calm. And for some reason, it made my stomach drop. Fear shot through me, sudden and sharp, and I didn't even fully understand why.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I adjusted my glasses and met his gaze headon.

"Try again."

I stayed silent.

"Layla." God, how I hated the way he said my name.

Like he already knew the answer, like this was just the formal step where he wanted me to admit it right to his face.

"I didn't do anything." It was clear he wasn't satisfied with my reply.

I jerked back when he stepped closer. I tilted my head up, and he was already towering over me. His height was intimidating for someone my size, but I refused to back down.

"I woke up this morning only to find all my gear gone," he explained.

I tilted my head. "That's unfortunate."

"Really?" He tilted his head too, copying my exact gesture.

"Really."

For the first time since I had known him, Wade looked genuinely furious. It wasn't just in his voice, it showed in his eyes, in the way his jaw tightened, like he was barely holding himself back from exploding.

"You thought ruining my game fixed what happened to your painting, Layla?" He grabbed my arm, his grip firm and deliberate, a clear warning that I wasn't getting away again.

I lifted my chin higher, refusing to let him intimidate me. "Let go of me, Wade! And who said I ruined anything?"

"Listen carefully. If you still think I'm the one who destroyed your "

I cut him off. "Sure."

I exhaled the moment he released my arm. I watched him run a hand roughly through his hair, then let out a short, bitter laugh as he stared up at the ceiling like he couldn't believe what was happening.

And suddenly, after all our fights and arguments, I felt something new for the first time, a strange, burning heat I couldn't even name. Had the air always been this hot? Or was it just him?

"You're unbelievable," he breathed out a long, heavy breath before looking back down at me. "Do you really hate me that much, Layla?"

"Yes," I answered without hesitation. "I don't just hate you, Wade. I can't stand your ego, your attitude, everything about you. You get under my skin like no one else ever could."

He stared at me hard, not saying a word for several seconds. He just held my gaze, and I couldn't read his expression at all. My throat went dry when I realized Wade Scott's eyes drifted lower, until they rested briefly on my lips.

"I hated you too, Layla. I couldn't stand how you always got under my skin... and never left."

I looked away first, not because I felt like I had lost, but because I had a strong feeling this was far from over. And judging by the look on his face, he felt it too.

The war had officially begun, but it was already too late for me to realize that Wade Scott and I weren't just rivals anymore, we were becoming something far more dangerous.