Page 3 of All Your Pucking Secrets

She must realize that because she slumps and stops walking. Nerves twist and turn in my belly. I wish I could yank her into my arms and shield her from the world, but if I tried, she’d no doubt kick me in the balls.

“It’s nice to see you again,” I tell her.

“Nice” is an understatement. Being this close to her after so many years is like standing in front of the gateway to heaven. Except I’ve done too much sinning to be allowed through.

“It’s the opposite of nice to see you.” She shudders, her narrow shoulders hunching as if she’s trying to will herself into nonexistence. “I wish you’d stayed away.”

Staying away would be like stabbing myself in the heart with a dagger. I’m not strong enough to do it. Her words hurt almost as much, even though I deserve them and more. If I want her back, I’ll have to weather everything she throws at me and come through the other side.

“I couldn’t,” I say.

She sucks in a sharp breath, and then clutches her throat, as though she’s having trouble breathing.

“Are you okay?” I ask, placing my hand on her back.

When she flinches away, I feel like someone has flayed me open. I release her immediately and stuff my hands in my pockets, so I won’t touch her again by mistake.

“Breathe,” I say. “Take it slow.”

I recognize the signs of a panic attack. My mother was prone to them, although she seems to be over that now. Amazing what time and death can do.

She struggles to calm her breathing. Her lips move, forming words, but there’s no sound accompanying them.

“That’s it,” I croon. “You’ve got it. Keep going.”

She raises her head, and her eyes are blazing. Without saying anything, she plants her hands on my chest and shoves so hard that I fall back a step.

“Leave. Me. Alone,” she pants raggedly.

“You’re struggling. I can’t in good conscience leave you.”

Her eyes flash with temper. “When has your conscience ever stopped you from doing anything?”

She’s still breathless, but she seems to be getting herself under control.

“Why are you here?” she asks, straightening her back like a warrior. God, she’s so fucking strong.

“I transferred to Newbury,” I tell her. “I’ve had a gaping hole in my life without you, and I want to win you back.”

I know it won’t be easy, but surely, it’s not impossible.

She wrinkles her nose like she’s smelled something rotten. “You’re fucking crazy.”

She tries to dart around me, but I block her path.

Her upper lip curls. “Stay the fuck away from me. If you come near me again, I’ll get a restraining order against you, and that won’t look good to the NHL.”

I stiffen, taken aback by the fact she’s willing to go to such extremes so quickly. But then, I’ve done a lot of damage to this girl. Maybe even more than I thought. I won’t let her attitude put me off though. I’m not going to fall at the first hurdle. Not this time.

“You do whatever you have to do,” I say. “I know I fucked up, but I have no intention of going anywhere.”

She can trash my career prospects if it makes her feel better. I’d love to play in the NHL, but being with her matters more. The NHL was always my dad’s obsession, not mine.

“Why?” She looks baffled, and a little shell-shocked. “Why do you think you can waltz back into my life after all this time?”

I open my mouth but don’t have the chance to respond before she continues. Never mind. The question was probably rhetorical anyway.

“Haven’t you done enough damage?” she asks, her tone weary.

---