Page 127 of Pucking Revenge

I don’t stop there. I climb on top of him, the tips of my skates digging into the flooring and my vision tunneling.

“Fucking her over wasn’t enough?” I land a punch to his nose, relishing the way it crunches under my fist. “Lying to her wasn’t enough?” A hit to his jaw. “Cheating on Aunt Zoe wasn’t enough? You had to go run your mouth to fucking Vin about your affair with Sara?” With every word, I hit him harder. My vision has gone dark. All I can see is a blur of blood and flesh beneath me.

A flash of blue appears, and cool skin presses against my cheek. Then there’s a hand on my arm, holding it back. The sweet scent of pumpkin spice envelops me with another cool compress. This one on my other cheek, pushing, forcing my head to one side.

“Brooks, baby. Brooks, calm down. War, I think he’s going to pass out. He’s not responding.”

It’s the panic in her tone that shakes me from my haze. “I’m okay,” I mutter, pushing back onto my haunches, blinking the world back into focus.

“Holy fuck.” War is at my side now too.

Gavin is the next one I spot. His eyes are wide and horrified. He’s dressed in his usual suit, kneeling beside the medics, who have also appeared. Both are bent over my uncle.

“The fuck did you do?”My brother’s voice is just as unrecognizable as the bloody man laid out before me.

“Help me get him up,” Sara begs. She’s still in front of me, her hands on my face, but she’s pleading with War.

I don’t move. “It’s me or him, Gavin.”

“Get him out of here,” he says to Sara, his lips curling. He keeps his gaze averted, turning back to Seb.

Sara stands and yanks on my arm. “Please.” Her voice cracks, garnering my attention.

I tip my head up, still stunned. Her eyes are glassy, and tears run in rivulets down her face.

The refs are heading my way, ready to toss me from the game. That gets me moving. With my skates still on, I haul myself up and grab Sara’s hand. Then I lead her to the tunnel. The noise in the arena is deafening. Screams and cheers and boos follow us as we walk right out of the arena. I don’t stop to change. I don’t grab my things. I pull off my skates and I don’t look back at the place I may never set foot inside again.

FORTY-FOUR

SARA

“What do you think the Bolts will do now?”

“I’ll be honest, Bob. Without Brooks, I’m not sure the Bolts can pull it off. Team morale will likely plummet. Can’t imagine a coach sleeping with his player’s girlfriend will bode well for anyone, either. But things are looking even worse for the Langfields. Remember, Lukov is his uncle.”

“Thank God the holidays are over. Oh, to be a fly on the wall at dinner next Thanksgiving.”

Brooks snatches the remote from the cushion beside me and hits the power button. “I told you not to watch this garbage.”

I haven’t moved from this position since I woke up. What better way to start my day than by enjoying my coffee with pumpkin spice creamer while watching the entire city of Boston decimate my reputation?

With my head lowered, I let my hair fall around my face like a curtain. The embarrassment that eats at me now that the entire world knows about my affair with Seb has left me perpetually red. As if I’m walking around with it tattooed on my forehead.Might as well stitch a scarlet A to my shirt.

Adulterer.

Destroyer of the Boston Bolts franchise.

Slut.

Every social media outlet is flooded with comments, and none of them are pretty.

Brooks hovers over me, dressed in a pair of blue Bolts shorts and nothing else. His hands are purple from the fight, and his eyes are sunken and rimmed red. He barely slept last night. Neither did I. So I noticed how many times his phone buzzed and how many times he disappeared into the bathroom and turned the water on so I couldn’t hear his side of the conversations. That alone doesn’t bode well for me.

War dropped by with his wallet, his keys, and his phone last night, but he didn’t linger. Brooks’s list of notifications was out of control already, and it’s only gotten worse since then.

I duck my head again, wringing my hands in my lap. “What else am I supposed to do? I don’t have a job.” My stomach roils so violently I worry I’ll be sick. I love my job, but that’s the least of my concerns. Without it, I’ll lose my home. Without it, I can’t pay for my brother’s medications. Without it, I can’t stay in Boston.

Not that anyone in Boston would hire me after this. There’s no point in putting off the job search in North Carolina.

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