Novels by Onorine Mankah

Violet:"Get out," I said again, my voice shaking. "Get out, Marcus. Now.""Not until you tell me the truth." Marcus stepped closer, ignoring the stares, ignoring Liam's warning posture. "Did you sleep with him? Is that why you're so eager to throw away three years? Because you found someone better?"I laughed. It came out broken and bitter, scraping up my throat like broken glass. "Throw away three years? You're the one who threw them away. You and Chloe."Marcus flinched like I'd slapped him. "That was one mistake. One. And you're already spreading your legs for...""Finish that sentence." Liam's voice cut through the air like a blade. "Finish it, and I'll make sure you regret it."Marcus's eyes darted to Liam, and something flickered in them. Fear. Recognition. The captain of the hockey team wasn't someone you picked a fight with. But Marcus was too angry, too desperate, too stupid to back down."She's my girlfriend," Marcus spat. "We're working through our problems. You don't get

Violet:Jess burst through the back door, her ginger curls exploding from a messy bun. She was already talking before she'd even hung up her coat. "Did you hear? The captain got into some kind of trouble last night. Derek posted something cryptic on his story, and now everyone's speculating. I swear, that guy is nothing but drama."I froze, my hand stilling on the counter. "What kind of trouble?"Jess shrugged, tying her apron around her waist. "Who knows? Probably got caught with another puck bunny. That's all he does, right? Skate, score, and screw." She made a disgusted face. "I don't get the hype. He's just a guy with good cheekbones and a stick."My face heated. I turned away, pretending to organize the pastry case. "You don't even know him.""Don't need to." Jess grabbed a pitcher of milk and started steaming it for a latte. "I've seen his type before. All charm and no substance. He probably doesn't even remember the names of the girls he hooks up with."The words hit me like a

Violet:"Tell me something I don't know." I signaled the bartender for another round. "What's your excuse? Why are you drinking alone when you have an entire team celebrating over there?"He glanced back at his teammates. They were loud, slapping each other's backs, pouring beer over someone's head. Derek... I recognized him from the team photos, was in the middle of it, his booming laugh cutting through the noise."Same reason as you, probably," He said. "Trying to forget."I didn't press. I didn't want to know his secrets. I didn't want to know anything about him. I just wanted the numbness to last a little longer.The next drink arrived. I downed it in one gulp."I need something stronger," I muttered.He stood, swaying slightly, and offered me his hand. "I know a place."I stared at his outstretched fingers. They were calloused, rough from gripping hockey sticks. I shouldn't have taken it. I should have stayed on that stool, finished my drink, and gone back to my depressing hotel

Violet:The apartment I shared with Chloe had never felt like a home. Not really. It was just a place where I kept my things, where I slept between classes, where I pretended the life I was building with Marcus was solid and real. I walked straight to my bedroom and pulled out my suitcase from under the bed.I started throwing things in. Jeans. Shirts. The hoodie Marcus had left here three weeks ago. I stared at it for a long moment, then threw it across the room. It landed in the corner like garbage. Like him.The tears came then. They blurred my vision as I yanked clothes off hangers, as I emptied drawers, as I tried to fit three years of my life into a single bag. It wouldn't fit. Nothing would fit. I was stuffing too much into too small a space, and I wanted to scream at the injustice of it all.A pair of earrings caught my eye on the dresser. Chloe had given them to me for my birthday last year. Gold hoops, simple and delicate. I'd worn them every single day since. I picked them

Violet:The apartment smelled like Marcus. That was the first thing I noticed when I let myself in with the key he'd given me three years ago. The familiar mix of his cheap cologne, the one I'd bought him for his birthday, and the stale beer from last night's game celebration clung to the air like a second skin. I balanced the takeout bag in one hand, the carton of Thai food he always ordered after a win still warm against my palm.The hallway was dark, which was strange. Marcus never slept before midnight, especially not after a game. He'd be wired, replaying every shot, every save, every time he almost scored. I'd learned that about him early on. The post-game adrenaline was part of the package of dating a hockey player.I smiled to myself, kicking off my boots by the door. The apartment was a mess, his jersey on the floor, empty bottles on the coffee table, the TV still on with some highlights reel playing on mute.I made my way toward the bedroom, already planning how I'd tease hi