Page 20 of Pucking Revenge

“What was I thinking, even getting involved with him in the first place? And how the hell did I let him sweet talk me into believing he was this good guy? He made me think he cared about me. That my job was safe.” I pinch the bridge of my nose to stave off the tears threatening to well. “I figured that since he was older, I could trust him. That he could be my safe place. I confided in him about my family. I haven’t even told Brooks about Ethan, yet I poured my heart out to this guy? What the hell is wrong with me?”

She shakes her head, her eyes practically glowing. “Nothing. Nothing is wrong with you. You’re perfect and beautiful and kind, and you go out of your way for the people you care about. You worked your ass off to put yourself through college, all while working multiple jobs so you could send money to your mom. I lost count of the number of nights you didn’t come out because you refused to let me pay and you wouldn’t dip into any of the money you’d worked so hard to earn.” She huffs a breath. “So don’t you dare criticize yourself. I won’t hear it.”

I fall back against the pillow and bang my head against it softly. “What if I lose this job? The guy is unhinged. He’s in his fifties, yet suddenly, he’s acting more immature than half the hockey boys who streak down the hallways of my apartment building.”

Lennox chuckles, her blue eyes dancing. “God, I miss you.”

“When are you coming home?” I whine. I need her more than I realized.

She looks out her window, probably enjoying the view from her New York City apartment. I’m sure it’s incredible. “I’ll try to come up one night next week. What’s your schedule look like?”

Flopping over to one side, I scan the calendar I keep beside my bed. I’m never sure where I’ll be from one week to the next. I go where the team goes, and they’re always on the road. “Looks like we’re in town next weekend. Then we’re on the road for ten days.”

“Then I’ll plan to make my reappearance in Boston before you leave.”

“Thanks, love. I could really use a friend.”

“You’ve got the best one.” She grins. “We’ll figure this out, babe. Please don’t stress. You know I’ve always got your back.” She turns serious then, her tone deepening and her eyes pools of sincerity. “Ethan will never go without medicine, and you will always have a roof over your head.”

I twist my lips. I’m grateful for her, but we both know I’d never accept her handouts.

“Speaking of friends,” Lennox says, brightening again. “Maybe you should use Saint Brooks and that hot dress to show Seb what he’s missing.”

“Fuck him.” I honestly could give two shits about Sebastian. He will lose his mind when he sees me on Brooks’s arm tonight. But the last thing I want is to put Brooks in the line of fire again. The man has been nothing but a good friend to me, yet he’s been punished repeatedly. “Besides, Brooks did mention a girl the other night.”

Lennox sits up higher on her bed, her phone screen wobbling. “Oh yeah? I don’t remember him ever dating anyone for long.”

“I always forget that you grew up with them.”

She drops her chin and inspects her manicure. It’s her silent way of saying she doesn’t want to discuss something. And despite being an open book, her relationship with the Langfields is never something she’s willing to divulge.

I was shocked when she called me up and told me they were hiring. After college, I couldn’t afford to live on my own, and my mother needed every extra dime we had to take care of my brother, so I moved back to North Carolina. When Lennox showed me the ad for the open PR position with Langfield Corp and suggested I apply, I immediately dismissed the idea. The pay looked great, but the cost of living in Boston was far, far out of my budget. Then she showed me the fine print. The job came with housing.

I didn’t understand why they would provide housing until I moved into the building and suddenly found myself surrounded by Neanderthals. The Bolts needed a babysitter for these idiots.

I do get a little reprieve during our very short offseason. Most of them have apartments or houses in their hometowns, so they tend to take time away, and I get a little break.

My days and nights can get a little crazy, since I’m expected to be available to put out fires at all hours, but my housing is free, and the place is gorgeous. One other major incentive back then was being in the same city as Lennox. Though that didn’t last long. Now she’s in New York, and with my travel schedule, even when she’s in town, it’s hard to see one another.

The doorbell rings, pulling me back to the moment. I sit up on my bed with a groan. In the little box on the screen where my image appears, I can see that my hair is now a mess. “I gotta go.”

Lennox promises to visit next week, and then we’re disconnecting.

I holler that the door is open, then focus on fixing my messy hair. Dammit. After all the time I spent curling it, I’ll probably have to just pull it up.

“I’m going to start locking you in from the outside,” Brooks grumbles from outside my bedroom door.He hasn’t appeared. He’s being gentlemanly again, probably concerned that I’m not decent.

“Come in, Brookie. I’m dressed.”

He ambles in, and my breath goes shallow at the sight of him. God, this hockey boy cleans up well. Brooks is always in a suit—when the team travels, before games, and more often than not when he steps out of this building—but that’s business Brooks.

This Brooks, who’s propped up against the doorframe, arms crossed, black suit straining across his muscles, crisp white shirt with a burgundy tie—because, of course, he asked about my dress color so we could coordinate—is every woman’s fantasy. He’s dangling a to-go cup I imagine is filled with coffee in front of him as he scans me from head to toe. His green eyes are darker than usual, like a Christmas tree in the forest, or at least what I imagine one would look like. I’ve never actually gone out into the forest to pick my own tree.

“You look beautiful.” His tone is warm, his smile lazy.

“You clean up pretty nice yourself, Brookie. That for me?” I take a step closer and make grabby hands for the coffee.

He pulls it back and tuts. “Not if you keep calling me that.”

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