Page 67 of All Your Pucking Secrets

Dad backhands me. I’m expecting it, so I don’t stumble. Instead, I press my palm to my cheek as blood fills my mouth. My instincts are driving me to spit it out, but if I do that, he’ll only get angrier because of the mess on the carpet. Disgust turning my gut, I swallow.

“I spoke to the hotel’s staff.” He drops his hands to his sides but comes closer, getting right in my face. “They confirmed you were there. You used a fake name and you were with a girl. Who is she?”

“No one,” I lie.

He scowls. “Try again.”

Feeling nauseous, I mutter, “Just a cheerleader I fucked a couple of times.”

Even the thought of being with someone other than Echo sickens me, but him believing that is better than him knowing the truth.

“Tyler.” He shakes his head. “I’m disappointed in you. I know how you work. If you want to fuck girls, you do it at their houses or in the back of your Chevy. This was more. Stop lying to me.”

My heart stutters. “What makes you so certain I’m lying?”

He folds his arms, his lips twisting smugly. “I have connections.”

Unconsciously, I step back, then force myself to stand firm. I can’t let him get the best of me this time. Not when the stakes are so high.

“So, I thought it might be nice to try something fancy,” I say. “You’re always reminding us to hold ourselves to a higher standard.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he grinds out, then he runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “Look, Tyler. You can’t have a girlfriend when you’re aiming for the NHL. We’ve discussed this. You need to focus on hockey, not some slut who’s hoping you’re her ticket out of here. She’ll distract you.”

Ah, so now he’s trying the ‘voice of reason’ approach. I wonder what will be next? More violence? Or the subtle psychological manipulation that he thrives on?

“She’s not a slut,” I snap, my fists balling at my sides. I won’t be thrown off by his change of tactic.

His eyes sharpen. “So, she does mean something to you.”

Damn it.

“I love her.” I may as well admit it. He’s going to assume I have feelings for her anyway. “She’s not a distraction, either. She’s actually making me better.”

We’ve been studying together, so my grades are up, and she has a more level head than me, so I’ve been getting her opinion on my games—things I can improve, and things I kick ass at. She isn’t really interested in sports, but she’s been coming to my games and sitting alone in the stands to support me—even if I don’t acknowledge her so as not to draw Dad’s attention to her.

That will all change soon.

Prom is tomorrow, and I’m taking her as my date. Soon, everyone will know how gone I am for her. I just have to survive this first.

“You stupid asshole,” Dad says, shaking his head. “You really think you’re in love with some puck chaser who’s willing to let you up her skirt? You’re pussy-whipped. That’s all. Tell me who she is, and I’ll fix it. I would’ve fixed it already, but the damn hotel clerk gave me a terrible description.”

If he doesn’t know, and has no way of finding out, then I’m not going to come clean. At least, not yet. He’s bound to hear about her soon enough, but I want a chance to warn her before he does.

“Fuck off,” I snarl.

It’s the wrong response.

He grabs my shoulders and shoves me against the wall. The impact jars my spine, and my phone falls from my grasp.

I expect him to lay into me, but instead he ducks and snatches my phone off the floor. My stomach bottoms out. It’s open on my message chain with Echo. His eyes flick from side to side as he scans the most recent messages. I try to get it off him, but he angles himself away, evading me.

Second by second, his scowl deepens. I lunge again, and he shoves me. When I recover my balance, his eyes are burning into me with undisguised fury.

“It’s even worse than I thought.” His tone is soft but deadly. “Kinseys do not fuck around with little working-class whores. Especially not when they’re smart enough to get more out of you than just sex.”

When his lips form the word “whore”, my lizard brain takes over. I plant my hands on his chest and shove him back.

“Don’t you fucking talk about her like that. I don’t care if her mom is a fucking cleaner. She’s better than you’ll ever be. They both are.”

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