The Villain - First 2 chapters.

1st Chapter – Melissa

September

I love Sloane, but I swear to God if we have this conversation one more time I’m going to throat punch her.

“I’m just saying, you can’t host book club if you can’t read.” She laughs, sipping on the can of Guinness that ‘isn’t the same’ as a glass. 

Sloane talks shit but she doesn’t reject it. 

“I can read. I don’t have time to read. There’s a difference.” I spread my arms across my white kitchen countertop. 

My girls file around my dining table and show off the books they bought. In true Sloane fashion, she loves locally owned bookstores in Edmonton. Maybe it’s the small business owner in her. 

“And to think Jaxon said you were too busy for him.” She tucks a pale hand under her chin in challenge. Black and red ombre hair frames around her beautiful face accenting her gothic features.

“No.” Mariam tags in, adjusting her elegant cream hijab. “They broke up because she’s not emotionally available.”

Ugh. I hate that term. And the last two guys who used it.

“No. I bet it’s the control issues.” Charis covers her eight-month pregnant belly with her hands when I glare at her. “You can’t get mad at me. I’m untouchable.” With her English accent on full display, her chin raises as a smirk dances across her lips.

“I bet–”

“Or you could shut your mouth and finish your damn beer.” I growl at my best friend of over twenty-four years.

“Stout.” Sloane corrects, pulling another flashy black book from her bag. “And be nice. We love you. I mean, if you stop hosting book club, where are we going to meet?”

“So, I’m just the central point for everyone?” My arms cross.

Assholes. 

“You’re the glue.” Mariam winks, eyeliner on point as always.

Grabbing the last two snack platters–charcuterie and fruit–I round the kitchen counter as the front door rattles. 

I put the platters down to open the door.

“Didn’t mom teach you to knock first?” I shout at Amelia as I reef open the door. 

Amelia’s always been the softer one between us. Maybe it’s the six-year gap or just her easy-going personality. From her comfy beige sweater and white flowy tank top tucked into high waisted jeans. Even her shoulder length bob is softened with highlights. Every part of Amelia whispers sweet and relaxed. 

She’s like a cute spring bunny with a reading kink.

“Sorry I’m late.” She huffs. “I just got off work. And. Had to go home. And change.”

I raise a brow at her. “You’re always late.”

It’s just a fact of Amelia. She doesn’t need to apologize for it. Especially since she’s going to do it again at Sunday dinner. 

Sloane squeals in a way that’s far too high-schooly than what she looks like. “Am’s come look at what I got! And it’s freaking signed!” 

“Stop it.” My little sister is instantly around the table, subtly lowering into my designated chair. “You got Natalie L’rose’s signature. Was she doing a signing?” 

Everyone else laughs, shaking their head like it’s an inside joke.

I don’t get it. 

“Someone explain.” I deadpan, hating feeling like the moron of the group. I refuse that role. Fuck that. 

Sloane laughs. “She’s probably the most famous author in Edmonton, but she’s never posted her face before. There’s a whole debate online who the author actually is.” 

“Or if she is even a she.” Amelia adds on, flipping the black, blue and red book over. 

 Charis grabs a green grape–this pregnancy’s constant craving. “It could be anyone. Even AI.”  

Sloane and Amelia’s faces both drop.

“How dare you.” Sloane dramatically gasps. “She’s my favourite.” 

I groan. “I need new friends.” But that means talking to more people and with teaching grade six, that’s a lot of unnecessary work.

Besides, my girls are the only ones who handle my lovely personality so well.

“Isn’t that grade one teacher your new friend?” Amelia asks, glued to the back of another book. “Collins, right?”

“Yes. But she’s dating a hockey player.” Which immediately lands her on the ‘work friends only’ list. Nothing outside of our professional obligations.

“Oooff.” Sloane shakes her head before it snaps to me. “Wait, how come I didn’t know her name? I know everything about you.”

I can feel the snowball starting to form. My arms cross again, out of sheer annoyance as I take a deep breath.

“Do you know things I don’t know?” She asks Amelia, like a friend not how an older sister would talk to an annoying little sibling.

Sloane is the reason Amelia isn’t just my younger sister but someone I actively spend time with, outside of family gatherings. 

“I mean… I don’t know. Maybe? I only know a few things about Collins.” Amelia blushes, rewrapping the puffy sweater around her tiny torso. Either it’s five sizes too big, or she lost a few pounds.

Either way, Nonna is going to go crazy trying to fill up her plate with a mound of food, again.

“Why did her and Jasen break up?” Charis leans back, tying her voluminous tight curls hair back with a spiral hair tie. 

“Jaxon.” Sloane corrects because I don’t care to bother. 

The sooner I forget his name the better.

Amelia looks at me, but I give her nothing. If she wants to share it, that’s on her. I like that she’s coming into her own more. Making her own decisions more often.

“Umm… he… Oh my god. I don’t want to say it out loud.” Amelia claps a hand over her mouth. 

“Oh girl, I’ve seen your kindle history. You’re in your why-choose, monster cock era. Spit it out.” Sloane demands.

I laugh remembering the screenshots Sloane sends of Amelia’s book reviews. Holy fuck. She needs some holy water on that device. 

Wait? What? “Moster being the character type or the dick size?” I’m so confused.

“Please.” Charis begs, ignoring me. “I could go into labour any day. Third babies always come sooner. I need this information.” 

Which means the girls have a bet on it. 

“He cried during sex!” Amelia blurts, unable to contain the secret a second longer. 

All eyes snap to me, and I toss my straight black hair over my shoulders. Bring it.

Charis bursts out laughing. “Was the sex seriously that good?” 

We all laugh with her. 

“Fuck no. It was…” Soft. Quick. Easy. And he doesn’t know how to be in control. But given Sloane’s trauma, nothing feels right to mention. So, I settle on, “boring.” 

“That’s because he was younger. Told you so.” Sloane’s burgundy lips pull into a smirk. “You need someone older.” 

“I don’t care about age.” I just want a man with some grit and not a pushover. Which seems impossible to find lately. 

“That’s not the worst part!” Amelia shrieks, nervously fidgeting with everything around her. Is she hyperventilating? “His grandmother died that week.” 

“Ohh, Mel.” They all say in unison like I’m the asshole. 

“What?” My arms snap out to the side. “After he finished, he cried and said ‘my grandmother would have loved you’. That’s fucking weird.” I’m aware I’m screaming but I can’t help it. 

“Okay, yeah. I’m on her side.” Sloane points to me, jumping on board as always.

“What a shock.” Mariam deadpans, crossing her arms, massive emerald-cut diamond sparkling on her ring finger. I’ve always loved her ring, just not how big it is. 

“I’m not going to feel bad for dumping him.” 

“You dumped him. The week his mom died?” Charis claps a hand over her mouth. “Melissa.” 

Her disappointed tone does nothing. I feel nothing about it. 

“Grandmother.” I correct because that’s an important detail. “He was thinking about his grandmother during sex. Fucking weird.”

“While they were still naked in bed.” Amelia shouts, not breathing between words. 

“You can stop now.” I glare at her and she shrinks into her chair. 

Sloane swipes at the tears in her eyes from laughing so hard.

Charis looks mortified and Mariam is trying not to snort laugh. 

“We’re not talking about my love life anymore.” The sooner I can drop the name Jaxon from my memory, the better. His shit name, along with Ethan Colby’s, can live in the ex-boyfriend pile of names that I fucking despise. 

Jaxon is a cry-baby but not nearly as bad as Ethan. 

It takes everything in me not to let my thoughts drift to the bottom of my closet where the three boxes of evidence I’ve compiled against him sits. 

The three boxes that still isn’t enough for a restraining order.

2nd CHAPTER Melissa

October

Therapy on a Friday evening wasn’t what I was expecting, but when Sloane asks me to do something. I do it. 

The crying wasn’t fun. Hers or mine. However, the ‘I’m sorry I dragged you to therapy with me’ dessert made up for it. 

I’ve managed to go all summer and this far into fall without needing therapy, but on Monday when they open, I need to book another session. 

Finding Sloane irrevocably changed my life. There’s certain images you can’t get out of your head no matter how hard you try. Seeing Sloane like that, is one of them. 

I’ve never seen that much blood outside of a body before. 

My phone rings as I’m standing on the arm of my couch, stretching to water the plants on top of the tallest floating wall shelf.

Floor to ceiling beige-wood shelves seem great, until I have to water the plants every day.

Fumbling for my phone from my back pocket, I pull it out to see Collins’ name across the screen. It’s eleven at night on a Friday and she’s calling me. It has to be an emergency. 

“Hey. Everything okay?” I set the watering can down. She never calls me. Maybe a work text on Sunday night before school, but now?

The hair on my neck rises as I make my way to the front door. 

“Yeah.” She yells. “I need a huge favour.” Her voice lowers into a whisper, like she’s in trouble. “How fast can you get to The Ledger?” 

Shit. 

Last time she was at The Ledger, that asshole attacked her. “On my way. I’ll be there in seven.” 

“That’s… uh… very accurate.” She sounds uncomfortable which kickstarts the adrenaline through my veins. 

She’s in trouble. 

I grab my keys and the closest vest. “Yeah. Well, it’s ten minutes away but I’ll speed.” I end the call so I can lock the door with two hands and race down the hallway. Taking the stairs two at a time I launch into my cold SUV. 

Fuck Canadian snow. I’ve got winter tires.

And I won’t let her be another Sloane. 

My only thought is finding her. 

I’m lucky to get a parking spot in the front as a car pulls out. I throw it into park and head straight through the front doors into the bar. My heart’s beating out of my chest and every step feels like a workout, my lungs work in overdrive. 

With her glowing blonde hair, she’s hard to miss. 

She’s cornered in a booth with five guys who look like they are a second away from murdering her. Or drugging her. Or any of the five hundred horrors I’ve been taught, as a woman, to watch for.

Fuck this. She called me. She needs me.

My only job is to get her out of that booth and back to my place safely. 

“Get up.” I tell the boring asshole next to her. “Let’s go.” I wave Collins forward. 

Just grab my hand and we’ll run.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Some tool to my right snaps. He stands like I give a shit who he is. His boring friend vacates the seat next to Collins and I shift around him. 

From the back corner, a battered and bruised asshole grabs Collins’s arm. Locking her in tight and I see red. 

“She’s not going anywhere with you.” He snarls.

I’ll fucking kill him.

“If you don’t take your God damned hand off her, I’ll give you the one to match.” I point at his black eye ready to knock the other eyeball into the back of his skull if he doesn’t let go. Adrenaline electrifies my veins. I’m a second away from launching across the table, teaching job and jail-time be damned. 

She won’t be another Sloane. 

I won’t spend all night looking for her until I find her bloodied body. 

“Okay.” Collins’ hands wave out to calm us. “Everyone relax. Melissa, these are the guys.” She points to each of them. “Perry.” Boring. “Tobias.” Annoying. “Aaron.” Viking. “Leith.” ‘Berta-boy. “And this here is nice Owen.” Asshole, but manly.

Shit. I know that name. “Perry. Perry? As in, fiancé Perry?”

Please, God no. Not hockey assholes. 

“One and the same.” His voice is so… dull. Blah. Not what I expected given the way she talks about him. 

“Oh. Sorry.” I exhale, deeply. Monday. Monday I’m going to kill her. “Shit. Collins, you need to get better at communicating. You asked me to rush over here, and I see you pinned between a bunch of ugly jacked guys. God, I thought they were going to hurt you. I was so ready to whoop their asses.” 

Understatement of the century. 

They look like they could use a good throat punch. 

“Hey!” The chocolate bearded ‘Berta-boy gasps. “Who are you calling ugly?” 

“I mean…” Has he seen the bruise on… Manly guy’s face? Albeit it does give him even more of an edge. Some grit to his already tough exterior. But it also looks painful as hell.

“Alright, well he’s injured. Ignore him.”

Actually, it suits him.

He looks like a mix between a lumberjack and Henry Cavil… if he hit himself in the face with the blunt end of the axe. 

I need to get the fuck out of here. With Calgary playing in Edmonton tonight, the last thing I need is to run into Ethan.

“Gladly. Actually, I’d like to ignore all you guys, assuming you work with Perry.” Glancing around I take a mental inventory. And given the bruises, fancy watches, arrogant face and grubby looking beards, it’s clear they are hockey players. Fuck that.

“They do.” Collins’ voice dissolving into a whisper. 

There’s a nagging in my soul to make sure she gets home okay.

She’s clearly younger than the rest of the guys and she’s not great at standing her ground. “Well, before I leave, I’m stealing Perry.” 

I grab him and haul him behind me as I dodge people walking every direction around me. God. Move. Who stops in front of someone else? 

I turn to him. “You’re marrying Collins?”

“Yes. Is that a problem?” His eyes almost narrow. Lucky for him, he doesn’t sass me or this conversation would be taking a detour right into fuck-you territory. 

“Well, I have different standards of the men I allow in my life. And hockey players don’t make the list.” My face works on its own, unable to control my disgust in his career choice and subsequent preferential treatment given to players. “But as for Collins, she’s head over heels for you. Talks about you all the time.” It’s annoying. “So, you better be nothing but a perfect gentleman towards her. She deserves someone who loves and supports her. She’s not a fuck buddy or a push-over to cheat on. Because I swear if you do–”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” The sincerity in his voice and intent in his eyes brings my walls down a smidge.

I’m coming off the adrenaline high. I need to chill the fuck out. 

Be the calm you want to see. I repeat my classroom mantra.

“Collins is it for me. I would never cheat. I’ve never even thought about another woman since we met. We can’t wait to get married. If I had my way, we would have been married…” Perry blows out a breath, looking to the side. “at least a year or two ago.” He smiles. Easy. Relaxed. Honest. 

Maybe he’s not a total hockey douche. 

“Good, because if you do, I’ll kick your ass.” I glare up at him. Damn I hate being so short. 

He nods. “Agreed.” Perry motions me forwards as we head back to the table. “Quick question, is that the corporeal punishment you dish out to your students?” 

I freeze, facing him my hands slam to my hips. “I make the kids do push ups when they don’t follow the classroom rules. The benefits far outweigh the negatives and they have appropriate accommodations.” I glare at him. Yep, back to being a hockey asshole. Shocker. I bee-line it for Collins. 

She’s the only person I like. 

All the guys stare at me when we approach but it’s Manly-guys’ glare that intensifies as if he can see through me.

“Well since I’m not needed and it doesn’t look like you need a ride—Perry said he hasn’t been drinking,” Not that I asked, but he didn’t smell like alcohol. “I’ll be going. Don’t. Call me. Unless it’s an actual emergency.” My eyes bore into her. 

So dramatic. And for nothing.

She looks like she’s about to vomit. “You dated Ethan Colby.” 

My stomach drops and everything feels heavy. My legs. Their staring. The weight of that secret. 

“Who told you? Did… he say something?” Fuck. If he’s here, I have to run. I can’t handle it. 

“No. But you hate the names Ethan and Colby. You hate NEHL players even though hockey is your favourite sport. You refused to talk to the grade four teacher, when he wore a Calgary Miners jersey this week. And I bet if I asked the guys to show a picture of you to the Calgary players, he’d—”

“Don’t.” I snap. My hands flinch out in front ready to grab a phone or just… anything. Fuck. That would be the worst thing. 

I slide into the booth next to her, praying to keep her quiet.

“So, you are responsible for this.” Chocolate-brown-beard-guy points to the black eye on his friend that’s starting to look normal and almost compliments his dark beard. 

The same way glasses seem normal on someone if that’s the way you meet them. He’d almost look… odd without a black eye.

“I’m not responsible for your father’s lack of ability to fight or duck.” I’m tempted to quote the five D’s of dodgeball, since it’s stuck in my head from the movie marathon with Sloane last week. But I’m waiting for him to snap at me for the father comment. 

Grumpy black beard looks like he could be Collins’ dad.

“No. Your ex-boyfriend is responsible for the fight. And trust me, he looks a lot worse than I do.” He lifts a glass with amber liquid to his lips and my interest piques. 

If he fights Ethan. I might just like him. “Break his nose or just dance around the ice?” I tease, knowing I shouldn’t push his buttons but damn it’s so easy. 

He scoffs, mouth turning into a cocky grin like it’s an unspoken game between us. Who hates Ethan more. “That was last spring. This time, I sent him back to Calgary with stitches.” 

Amazing. Ethan was always so focused on his pretty boy looks and never wanted the ‘toll of professional hockey’ to mess up his face.

Such a fucking baby. 

Black-eye-guy is the total opposite. Probably doesn’t even flinch for stitches. 

“How many?”

“Nine.” His shrug is quick. Emotionless. Badass.

Time to bring him back down to Earth. “Wow. Couldn’t manage double digits, hey?” I can’t help but smile as I win. 

“Next time.” He winks and my stomach flips. 

“Well, you can be my favourite player when that happens.” My eyes travel up and down his tall, muscled form squished into a booth that barely fits him. Damn. Collins went for Perry instead of him?

“Oh my God.” ‘Berta-boy shouts, forcing my attention across the table, to him. “I just got the best idea.” 

“Don’t start.”

“You two should date to fuck with Ethan’s head.” 

“Worst idea ever.” Collins’ snarks, the sassiest I’ve ever heard her.

A scoff I can’t hold back, rips out of me. “Not a fucking chance in hell.” Even just the thought of Ethan knowing I’m in the vicinity of hockey players makes me antsy. 

“Surprisingly we agree. I don’t need to be dating–even fake dating–Colby’s gold-digging–”

“Fuck you.” I seethe. Stupid cunt. Knew it.  “You don’t know a damn thing about me. That bullshit Ethan’s been spewing about our breakup isn’t even close to the truth. So, fuck off.” They’re all the fucking same. Why am I shocked? “Perry, kindly get up.” I glare at him, dead serious. 

I scooch one butt-length and my phone lights up. Expecting it to be Sloane after our therapy session, I check it before moving again. 

But it’s not her.

My heart sinks. Everything locks and freezes in place. I’m stuck. I can’t move. He can’t be there. There’s no fucking way. 

Picture after picture pops up, moving itself up on the text thread. Pictures of different parts of my apartment covered with my beautiful green plants sitting next to red presents with obnoxious red silk bows. 

Dozens of presents. All with giant red bows. 

I fucking hate red. 

My eyes focus on the pictures. Nothing else matters. My hands shake and the pictures take up my entire field of view.

“What is it?” Collins leans against my shoulder. It’s almost nothing, but it’s steadying. 

“He’s in my home.” I explain the most I can, but it’s a whisper.

“Who is.” Her chin lands on my shoulder. 

I… I can’t move. 

He can’t be there. 

This can’t be happening. 

What do I do?

“Ethan. He’s in my apartment.” 

“You gave him a key?” She gasps, too many steps behind. 

“No.” My voice breaks as tears sting my eyes. My chin wobbles and I fight with every ounce of control to keep myself locked down. “He broke in.” He had to. I locked the door. “Coll,” My voice breaks. “I moved two months ago. And I haven’t talked to him in ten years.” 

My chest rises fast and I realize I’m not breathing deep enough.

Fuck. 

Black-eye-guy takes the phone from Collins’ hands. “They were sent two minutes ago. How far away do you live?” 

Everything slows around me and my hands feel like ice. My mouth opens and shuts. He’s in my home. “Um... Ten minutes.” 

“I’ll drive. Leith and Perry will follow.” 

Everyone around me moves. Collins and the grumpy bruised guy help me out. He guides me out of The Ledger and into his SUV as I text Collins my address. 

I screw it up four times before my brain works enough to send her the correct address. 

Ethan is in my home.