Forbidden love

EPISODE: 1: Chapter 1

POV: HOLDEN

I could tell you about my sad and pathetic home life, but honestly, who would want to hear that? It’s not the kind of story people lean in for. It’s the kind that makes them look away, awkward and guilty.

So let’s just say this: my dad’s a dick. He doesn’t care about me, doesn’t care about anyone, not really. His whole world is alcohol, drugs, and whoever will party with him until sunrise.

He drinks all day, crashes, then does it all again at night. If he weren’t around, my life would probably be a hell of a lot better.

My mom died in a car accident when I was ten. Since then, it’s been me and my dad, though “dad” doesn’t feel like the right word anymore.

He’s just the guy I live with, the one who makes my life harder than it needs to be.

I was eighteen, a senior in high school, and in my head, the best damn goalie there was. Okay, maybe saying “in the world” was pushing it, but when I was in net, nothing else mattered.

The ice was where I belonged.

Most of my time I spent at Zach’s. He’d been my best friend since we were five, and I would do anything for him.

He’s the one who saved me on more than one occasion, the only person who knew what really went on inside my house. His parents were pretty chill. They didn’t pry, didn’t ask too many questions.

That silence meant more to me than they knew.

But tonight, I wasn’t at Zach’s. Tonight, I was stuck at home.

And God, I wished I wasn’t, because the second I heard the front door slam, I knew my dad was home and wasted.

“HOLDEN!” his voice ripped up from the bottom of the stairs, loud and angry.

A part of me wanted to stay in my room and pretend I didn’t hear, but I knew better. If I ignored him, it’d only get worse.

“Yeah?” I called down, trying to sound casual.

“Get your ass down here and clean that up!”

I had no clue what “that” was, but judging by the tone in his voice, I wasn’t about to argue.

I stepped into the kitchen and saw the sink overflowing with dirty dishes. His mess, obviously.

But whatever. I kept my head down and started cleaning. If being his servant for a night kept things from blowing up, I’d do it.

When I was done, I turned to head back upstairs, but he blocked me. The stench of beer on his breath was so strong it made me step back—and that’s when his hand came flying.

The slap cracked across my face.

“Don’t you move away from me,” he growled, eyes bloodshot, words slurring.

He shoved me hard, and I hit the floor. For a second, I thought he’d follow it up with more, but instead, he just turned away, already reaching for another drink.

I scrambled upstairs as fast as I could, fury burning hot in my chest. What the hell was his problem?

I hated him. I hated him so much it made me sick.

I caught sight of myself in the mirror and leaned close, checking. No bruise, thank God.

I was tired of lying. Tired of coming up with excuses. I couldn’t do it anymore.

Eventually, I fell asleep, though my body stayed tense even in my dreams.

The next morning, my alarm yanked me awake. I showered quick, threw on clothes, and got out before he even stirred.

He was passed out on the couch, one arm hanging off, empty bottles scattered on the floor.

Most days, I didn’t eat breakfast. He wasted our money on alcohol and drugs, and food didn’t rank high on his list.

That’s where Zach came in. Speak of the devil, he was walking toward me down the street.

“Hey, brought you this,” he said, holding out a breakfast sandwich wrapped in foil.

“You’re a lifesaver,” I said, biting in immediately. His mom cooked like no one else.

That’s when I spotted Carlee. Damn.

She’d grown up into something fierce—beautiful in a way that hit me hard every time. She was off-limits, I knew that.

But I couldn’t help looking.

I could have any girl at school if I wanted. But Carlee was the one who got under my skin.

The way her hair fell over her shoulders, the curve of her body…and that outfit today…way too revealing, in my opinion.

“Your parents actually let your sister leave the house like that?” I asked Zach.

“Don’t even get me started. She’s lucky I let her out at all,” Zach muttered.

“She tell you off?”

“Yeah. Left with Layla before I could stop her,” he admitted, shaking his head. “I almost lost it.”

“Breathe, man. She’s a big girl,” I said, though truthfully, I wanted to shrug off my hoodie and cover her myself.

Before either of us could say more, Aaliyah sauntered up.

“Hey, sexy.” Her voice dripped with fake sweetness.

She tried too hard. Always had. And no matter how many times I made it clear I wasn’t the relationship type, she kept coming back like I’d change my mind.

“See you later, man,” Zach said, shooting me a look before leaving me alone with her.

“Want to come over later?” she asked, eyes narrowed like she was daring me to say no.

“I might be interested,” I said, already knowing I’d probably take her up on it. At least it meant I wouldn’t have to go home.

First day of school. I hated it. Always had.

And I wasn’t dumb—I knew I didn’t have much going for me outside of hockey. If I didn’t land a scholarship, I was screwed.

That summer had been nonstop Zach, hockey, and yeah, Carlee. She had this habit of walking around in skimpy tank tops and short shorts, and I swear, it was like she was testing me.

She was still a virgin, I knew that much. And Zach? He’d never let her date anyone, let alone me.

But still, I couldn’t help the way my mind went sometimes.

I forced myself to treat her like a kid sister. She had to be. She was Zach’s little sister, not mine to want.

Still, that didn’t stop the thoughts late at night, when it was just me and the dark.

“Earth to Holden?”

I blinked, snapping back to reality. Aaliyah was watching me with raised brows.

“What?”

“Are you walking me to class?”

I sighed. Not like I had a choice. We were headed the same way anyway.

In class, I kept my head down. The last thing I needed was the teacher calling on me, making me look like an idiot in front of everyone.

School wasn’t my strong suit. Never had been.

But hockey—that was my ticket.

This year, though, we had a new coach. That meant proving myself all over again. Tryouts. Stress. Pressure.

After school, Zach and I hit the rink. The smell of ice and rubber filled my lungs the second I stepped inside, grounding me.

“Heard this coach is badass,” Tyler said as he passed, smirk plastered on his face. Something about him always made me want to lay him out.

“Oh, and your sister’s looking fine today,” he added, looking straight at Zach.

I had to grab Zach before he swung. “Let it go. Carlee’s not worth it.”

“I could deck him just once,” Zach muttered, fists clenched.

But before he could move, the coach strode in.

“I’m Coach Taylor,” he said firmly, scanning us all. “I don’t tolerate sloppiness. If you want a spot on my team, you’ll maintain a C+ average or higher. Since I don’t know you yet, we’ll hold tryouts. The best stay. The rest, well, there’s always next year.”

My stomach sank. A C+? Barely hanging on to a C was hard enough.

The whistle blew, and practice began.

And damn, I was unstoppable. Every shot that came my way, I blocked. I was locked in, on fire, untouchable.

When it was over, Coach Taylor said he’d need another tryout before final cuts.

Fine. Bring it on.

I spotted Aaliyah waiting for me outside the rink, her arms crossed, a smirk already on her lips. I didn’t hesitate. I went with her.

After the day I’d had, I needed the distraction. She wasn’t love, not even close. But she was an easy fix.