Entangled With My Hockey Step-brother

Chapter Three

Whitney Point of view.

The day my mom informed me that I was going to be having a step dad. I thought it was a joke. My parents hadn't always been happy with each other, especially my mom.

She always said that if she knew what she knows now. She wouldn't have married my dad.

The divorce still came as shocking news to me but what surprised me the most was that she had already found a replacement for him.

I was stunned, typical of my mom to be faster than her shadow.

I walked into the house as she called me from school to meet up with my step-dad during mid-semester break in school.

“How long have you known this man?” I asked her.

“For three months”, she replied.

“Don't you think you are taking things too fast”, I asked her.

“No honey, when you meet the one you would know and nothing is too fast”, she said, seeming so sure of herself.

“I dated your dad for two years and married him for eighteen years honey, I didn't feel this way I felt around this man with him”, she added.

“Then why did you marry him?”I asked with disbelief evident in my voice.

She paused for a while. “When you get older…you..Will understand Whitney”, she replied.

I moved around helplessly.

“Mom..mom..tell me you're joking right now”, I yelled.

She picked up the glass of champagne and sipped it gently. “I am not joking honey, I love this man and if you want my happiness you should be supportive”

“He is going to be here any minute, I want you to meet him and be of very good behaviour, do you hear me”, she instructed me.

I felt for my dad. How could she? She discarded him like a piece of trash.

She wasn't sure how he was feeling.

“Does dad know about this?”, I asked.

“Ofcourse he knows, we are finalising our divorce paper already”, she replied.

“Divorce!!...divorce”, I screamed.

“You have been seeing this man behind our backs I guess”, I voiced out.

My mom seemed so relaxed. I wondered why she gave birth to me. I was nothing like her.

The looks, aura and attitude. None of it I inherited. I took everything from my dad.

A knock at the door disrupted our conversation.

“He is here”, she whispered like I care.

“Come in”, she voiced out.

A man in his mid-fifties walked in. My gaze fixed on him. I was trying my best to maintain my composure.

She ushered him to the dining table.

“We were just about to have dinner, you can join us”, she said smiling.

Irritation practically seeped through me.

What was in my mom thinking, divorcing my dad and telling me the same day she planned to introduce me to my future step-dad.

I looked at his face. I can't believe he was reminding me of someone I couldn't practically place a face to.

I struggled to but couldn't as my mom snapped me out of my thoughts.

“What's your name?”, he asked with a smile on his face.

I ignored him.

“He is asking you a question?”, she said, her gaze fixed on me.

“Whitney,” I said coldly.

“That's a great name?”, he voiced out as my mom and him were smiling at each other.

“I have a son about your age as well, he goes to Essex college”, he replied.

I nodded totally absent from the conversation. He kept on trying by all means to engage me but it was written all over my face that I wasn't interested in being friendly with him at all.

He kept talking.

Talking about Essex College, about how his son was “very disciplined,” about how excited he was to finally have a daughter. Every word grated on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

“I didn’t ask,” I snapped suddenly.

The room went quiet.

He blinked, clearly taken aback. “I was just trying to make conversation..,”

“Well, don’t,” I cut in sharply. “You’re not my father, and you never will be.”

My mom’s smile dropped instantly.

“Whitney!” she warned, her voice low but firm.

“I mean it,” I continued, my anger spilling freely now. “You walk into my house, sit at my dad’s dining table, and expect me to smile like this is normal? You’re a stranger.”

“I understand you’re upset,” he said calmly, trying to salvage the moment. “But disrespect won’t change the situation.”

That did it.

I let out a bitter laugh. “You don’t get to tell me how to feel. You met my mom three months ago and suddenly you’re playing family? That’s pathetic.”

“Enough!” my mom snapped. She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. “I warned you to behave.”

“Behave?” I scoffed. “You drop a divorce and a replacement husband on me in the same breath and expect me to clap for you?”

She walked closer to me, her face hard. “You will apologize to him right now.”

I pushed my chair back and stood up, my hands shaking. “I won’t apologize for telling the truth.”

“Whitney—”

“I’m done,” I cut her off. “I’m going back to school.”

“Sit down!” she commanded.

“No,” I yelled. “I won’t sit here and pretend this is okay. You can have a happy family without me.”

I grabbed my bag, my heart pounding painfully in my chest. My mom called after me, warning me to calm down, but I didn’t listen. I stormed out of the dining room, out of the house, slamming the door behind me so hard the walls shook.

Tears blurred my vision as I walked away.

I couldn’t breathe properly. My thoughts were scattered, my dad’s face, my mom’s indifference, that man sitting comfortably where my father once sat. Everything felt wrong.

I stormed out of the house, my bag slung over my shoulder.

Tears blurred my vision, but I didn’t stop. I just needed to get out, to clear my head, to escape the chaos my mom had dumped on me.

I started trekking down the road toward school, my footsteps quick, my thoughts louder than my heartbeats. I didn’t care about cars, traffic, anything.

All I could think about was how unfair it all was—my dad gone, my mom moving on as if eighteen years of marriage and family meant nothing, and that man sitting at our dining table like he belonged there.

I didn’t notice how fast I was walking. I didn’t notice the approaching car until it was too late. The screech of tires made me freeze, my stomach dropping into my throat.

I tried to jump out of the way, but the car hit me. The impact sent me sprawling onto the asphalt. Pain exploded across my side and legs.

I gasped, clawing at the ground, trying to pull myself up. My bag tumbled away. Someone’s voice screamed.

I tried to speak, but the pain made my throat close. My vision blurred, and darkness started creeping in from the edges of my eyes.