The Hockey Star’s Remorse by Riley Above Story novel Chapter 212

Chapter 212 

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Timothy proposed an unconventional way to celebrate my recent promotion–golf. 

As we entered the venue, the sound of laughter and the clatter of golf clubs echoed through the air. The place was a vibrant mix of enthusiasts and casual players, all gathered to enjoy a round of golf in a climate–controlled 

environment. 

“This is fancy,” I told him as he took my hand. “I was expecting mini–golf, but this is very high–tech.” 

“This is way better than mini–golf,” he told me. He then turned to the woman at the desk and asked for some golf balls. She gave him a bag full of them. 

He led me to a station in the middle where a large golf course stretched before us beyond the entryway. I eyed the golf clubs skeptically. 

“Trust me. You’re going to love this,” he said, handing me a golf club with a grin. 

I smirked, twirling the club in my hand. “I hope you’re not expecting a hole–in–one from me.” 

The first few minutes were filled with laughter as Timothy attempted to teach me the basics. I soon discovered that hitting a stationary ball with a club required a little skill, or maybe just hand–eye coordination. Meanwhile, Timothy swung his club with an air of confidence, as if the sport came naturally to him. 

“You’ve got to feel the rhythm,” he said, demonstrating a smooth swing that sent the ball soaring and rolling into one of the pits. As it landed, the pit flashed with neon lights. 

I raised an eyebrow, amused. “Rhythm? I thought this was all about brute force and precision.” 

Timothy smirked at me. “It’s a delicate dance, my friend.” 

As the game progressed, it became evident that Timothy’s golf skills were far from impressive. He’d just been lucky the first couple of tries. His swings were erratic, often sending the ball veering off–course or, in some cases, missing it entirely. 

I couldn’t help but burst into laughter at his comical attempts. 

“It’s not as easy as it looks,” he grumbled. “I don’t see you getting any.” 

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I’ve gotten way more than you!” I protested, playfully punching him in the arm. “Maybe you should stick to ice hockey. At least there, you have a puck to hit and ice to slide on.” 

He shot me a mock glare. “This is nothing like playing on ice. I’d take a hockey stick and a puck over this any day.” 

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I took my turn, the golf ball soaring through the air and landing with a satisfying thud. As if wanting to punctuate my point, the ball rolled into the pit. “See? Not that hard.” 

Timothy crossed his arms, feigning annoyance. “Beginner’s luck.“” 

As the game progressed, I found myself thoroughly enjoying the unconventional outing. The atmosphere was light, and our competitive banter added a layer of intimacy to the experience. Despite Timothy’s less–than–stellar performance, he maintained a good–natured attitude, embracing the challenge with a sense of humor. 

After a particularly disastrous swing that sent the ball ricocheting off the fake trees, Timothy let out a frustrated sigh. “I have to admit, Evie, I’m glad I get to keep playing hockey. At least I’m not this hilariously horrible at it.” 

I chuckled, realizing the stark contrast between the controlled chaos of a hockey game and the precision required for golf. “Well, golf isn’t for everyone. It takes a certain finesse, which I’m not sure either of us 

possesses.” 

Timothy raised an eyebrow. “Rub it in, why don’t you. You’re almost reaching 300 points.” 

I burst into laughter as he pointed to the screen above us. My lucky shots had pushed me up to 270 points. Timothy was still floundering at a measly 180. 

“You know, Evie, I’ve been thinking,” he began, and the humor began to die down in his tone. 

I raised an eyebrow, curious about the change in direction. “What’s on your mind?” 

Timothy hesitated, as if choosing his words carefully. “If you hadn’t gone above and beyond, I would’ve been held down by my family’s expectations and Stella’s influence. Your dedication opened doors for me that I didn’t even know existed until someone else tried to gain control.” 

I was taken a 

aback by his sincerity. “I’m glad I could help, even if it was indirect. Stella and Andy kind of imploded on themselves, you know?” 

He smiled, a genuine warmth in his eyes. “They definitely did. My dad had called me into his office, told me that 

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Stella had moved on.” 

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“That’s good right?” I saw the uncertainty in his expression and wondered if there were feelings there that I’d missed before. Eventually, he nodded and looked to the side. 

“It is. It’s just,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “It looks like my dad might be moving on as well.” 

I set my golf club to the side and walked over to him, looping my arm with his. “He’s moved on?” 

“I think he’s found himself a mistress,” Timothy said bitterly. 

I blinked, struggling to process the sudden shift in our conversation. The air between us grew tense, and I could sense Timothy’s discomfort. “Timothy, I… I’m sorry. That’s a lot to take in. How do you feel about it?” 

Timothy shrugged, attempting to brush off the impact. “It is what it is, Evie. I expected him to move on, but I was hoping it wouldn’t be so soon. He was never exactly the type to stick around and wait.” 

I could see the hurt in his eyes, masked by a façade of indifference. “Timothy, it’s okay to feel upset. This is your family we’re talking about.” 

He sighed and began smooth down the back of my hair. His expression softened as he pulled me close. “I just don’t want to dwell on it, you know? Let’s talk about something else. What are your plans now that you’re a senior attorney?” 

I hesitated, the discomfort lingering. “Mostly just improving the place, creating a better environment for everyone. I also plan on mentoring and helping the future incoming counsels.” 

Timothy nodded, still petting my hair. “That place could use someone with your vision.” 

We decided to take a break from the weighty conversation and head to the bar inside the entertainment venue. As we entered, the lively atmosphere seemed to wash away our troubles. 

I scanned the crowded bar, searching for a vacant spot, when my eyes widened in shock. Jasper stood at the bar, his face flushed with alcohol. He was yelling at one of the servers, his words slurred and abrasive. 

“You didn’t put an olive in my martini like I asked!” he drawled. “What sort of establishment are you running 

here?” 

I turned to Timothy, who was checking out the drink menu, and tapped his arm. “I’m heading to the restroom. 

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You can order whatever and I’ll just eat what you eat.” 

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“All right,” he said, giving my hand a squeeze as I released him. He turned back to the mounted screen and assumed hummed. 

I marched toward Jasper, who was still berating the server in the corner. He had his drink tipping dangerously in his waving hand, spilling heaves everywhere. 

“Jasper, leave her alone!” I exclaimed, rushing over to get between the, 

He turned toward me, his gaze unfocused. “Evie? What the hell are you doing here?” 

His gaze quickly flew over my shoulder, and his red eyes widened. As he saw Timothy approaching, his lips widened into a crooked smirk. 

“Oh, I see what’s going on,” he said, his voice oozing with condescension. “Just as I suspected from such an ‘elite‘ lawyer!” 

I 

“Jasper, please,” I said impatiently. “You’ve been drinking way too much. Clearly.” 

“Oh!” His lips formed a large “O” and he tilted his head. “Are you going to sue me for drinking? Who know, you might just get another raise out of it.”