His Dangerous Love On Ice (Olivia and Zane) novel Chapter 11

Olive’s POV

But I kept walking. Ignored it.

“Olive.”

A hand grabbed my shoulder. Yanked me backward.

I spun around.

Gray eyes locked on mine.

And for one horrible second, I was back there. Back to being his girlfriend. Back to thinking I was the only woman in his life.

“Olive.” Cole’s voice was sharp. Angry. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

The question snapped me back.

I stood there, shocked. Processing.

Was he seriously asking me this?

“Are you deaf or something?” His grip tightened on my shoulder “Why are you standing there like you’re mute? Didn’t I tell you not to come? Didn’t you get my texts? My emails? So why the hell are you here? Dressed like this?”

His eyes dragged down my body.

The words hit me like a physical blow.

Every day. Every week. Every month I’d spent with him, I’d never seen it. Never seen the manipulative, controlling bastard he was. How he’d always spoken to me like this-like I was something he owned–and I’d just accepted it. Thought maybe he was trying to help me. Make me better. More obedient.

How could I have been so foolish?

So foolishly in love..

“Let go of me, Cole.” My voice came out low. Steady.

I was shocked it didn’t shake.

“What? I asked you a question, and you haven’t-”

“I said, let me go. Now.”

This time, I said it louder. Harder. Using every ounce of breath in my lungs.

People stopped. Stared.

I could feel their eyes. Their judgment. And I knew what they were thinking-that I was the problem. Because Cole was in his hockey uniform. Because he was the star.

“What the fuck is wrong with you-”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore.” My voice shook now, but not from fear. From rage. “What to wear. What to say. Where to go. You don’t get to do that. Not after you cheated on me. Not after I spent two years thinking about your stupid face. Getting off to the thought of you while you were fucking someone else.”

His face went pale. Then red.

“It wasn’t my fault you saw that.” His voice dropped. Cold. “Don’t blame me because you did too much. You were always doing too much.”

I laughed.

Sharp. Bitter. Really Hard. Not caring then attention,

Always me. Always my fault.

“I did too much?” My voice rose. “I stood in the rain watching you practice. Drove three hours just to see you warm a bench. Wore your jersey like it meant something-”

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