Page 75 of Falling for the Pucking Bad Boy

Maybe she’ll keep any comment she had for Wells to herself if she had any.

“Oh my,” she huffs, sounding frazzled and, apparently, putting two and two together. "Looks like you've got yourself quite the admirer.”

Obviously, she doesn’t read the gossipmongers. Thank goodness.

I can only nod, a sheepish smile tugging at my lips. "Yeah, he's... something else.”

I sink back into my seat. My heart suddenly plays a game of tag with the beats. The last period will pass with a different kind of tension, not one of goals and penalties but of wagers and the dirty shit going on in Wells’s head.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I fish it out of my jeans, only to find Dad all lit up.

My pulse, already erratic, kicks up another notch. I hesitate while my thumb hovers over the green button to answer. I glance back at the note, then to the ice where Wells is gearing up for another faceoff in a few moments.

It's time to end this.

"Hey, Dad.” My voice is steady, belying the tightrope walk my emotions are teetering upon.

His response is immediate and slightly urgent in my ear. "Rory," he starts, and I can hear the edge in his voice that speaks volumes of the conversation ahead. "We need to talk about—"

"Dad, can it wait? I'm at the game right now, and it's really not the best time."

“I know. I can see you.”

My eyes bulge, and I feel like a kid who’s just been caught sneaking out of the house. “Wha—Where?”

“You gonna let me talk now, or will you try to get rid of me again?”

Touche.

I straighten my spine and narrow my eyes. “You showed up at a New Brunswick game to talk to me?”

“No,” he replies matter-of-factly. “I’m not stalking you.”

I inhale impatiently, pending the following words from my father’s mouth because God knows what he’s about to throw at me. “Fine. Go ahead.”

“I quit the Montreal Blizzard today.”

“What?” My heart immediately drops into my stomach. “Dad—”

“You told me to handle my shit, so I did.”

“I know I did, I just…” I didn’t think he’d do it.

Ever.

In this lifetime or the next.

“And I got a new job already.”

Okay, that was fast.

“You did?” I bring my hand up to my temple because, holy crap. My father actually listened? “Where?”

“The New Brunswick Wolverines.”

My head snapped up, and my eyes immediately began searching for my father in the black and gold sea. “You didn’t.”

“They called me.”

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