Page 3 of Puck Blocked
Maybe Andrew is right. Maybe I need to stop thinking about myself. I don’t want to be like my mother. I want to be someone people can depend on.
I flick the television to the news channel just as he walks through the door. Without a word, Andrew glances around the room before his glare lands on me.
I hold my breath, wondering if I’ve left something somewhere it shouldn’t be. “How was your day?” I ask as I push up from the sofa to greet him.
“Shit,” he says while sniffing the air. “I don’t smell dinner.”
I freeze. I should have started cooking by now. “I thought we could order in tonight and watch a movie,” I suggest, trying to deflect the conversation to something more positive. I was so worried about finishing an online assessment I forgot all about dinner. Again, I was focused on myself and not others. “I’m sorry. I’ll get something together now. Why don’t you go take a shower? And I’ll have dinner whipped up in no time.”
He tilts his head at me. “You do that. You know we can’t afford to just be ordering takeout. I buy you food to cook, not for it to sit in the fucking fridge and rot.”
“I know, Andrew. I’m sorry.” I take a step back on instinct. I know it’s coming before it happens. The backhanded slap. The familiar sting across my cheek.
“Stupid fucking bitch. You didn’t think. That’s your problem. You don’t fucking think,” he hisses.
I step back again when he lunges forward. My foot catches the sofa and I fall to the ground. Andrew roars as he pushes the furniture out of the way and that’s when I know my night just went from bad to much, much worse. I can’t do anything but watch as my textbooks and papers go flying into the air.
“Andrew, no! Stop!” I beg, right before his fist lands against my face, the sound of bone crunching ringing through my ears. My vision blurs but I try to stay conscious.
I need to stay conscious…
I wake with a start. In a dark room. My heart racing and the machines next to me beeping just as fast. A nurse rushes in, switching a light on before she comes over to the bed. “Are you okay?” She presses some buttons as her eyes assess me.
“Sorry, I just… had a bad dream,” I tell her.
“It’s okay. Here, drink some water,” she says while handing me a cup with a straw.
I take the water and look around the room. “Can you leave the light on, please?”
“Of course. I’ll be just outside. Press the button if you need anything, dear.” She smiles before walking out again.
What I need is a different life. Can you give me that?
No one answers because I can’t bring myself to say the words aloud…
Chapter Two
The burn radiating up my legs doesn’t slow me down. Coach has had us running drills all morning. He finally calls time but I’m not ready to stop. I keep going, working the puck across the rink until I’m the only one out here. Well, the only one skating anyway.
Coach and Gray stand off to the side. Watching. Fuckers are probably trying to psychoanalyze me. Gray knows why I’m not ready to stop. It’s the same every year on this date. I need to skate until I drop. I need to work myself to the point of fucking exhaustion, because that’s the only way I can escape just a little bit of the pain.
Four years. Whoever the fuck said time heals all wounds is a fucking liar. Or a moron. Probably both. Because it’s been four years and it still fucking hurts. I’m living the dream, doing everything Sean and I worked our asses off to get. Everything we’ve wanted since college. High school. He should be living it up with me.
But he’s not. And because he’s not here, neither is she.
I let my mind drift to thoughts of Montana and immediately curse under my breath. It’s the anniversary of my best friend’s death and I still can’t stop thinking about his little sister.
Four long fucking years since I last saw her. I haven’t been back home, because I know the moment I cross those city lines, I’m heading straight for her. And that’s something I can’t do. Because, even from the grave, Sean is warning me against touching his little sister.
Ignoring the world, I keep pushing myself. That is until I skate past Gray and the fucker shoulder-checks me onto my ass. “You’re done. Let’s hit the showers.”
“I’m done when I say I’m done,” I hiss as I push back up onto my skates.
“You know I was hoping I wouldn’t have to bring out the big guns, but you’re leaving me no choice.” Gray turns and waves a hand at the bench.
And before I know it, his six-year-old daughter comes barreling forward. “Uncle Luke, Uncle Luke, Daddy says you’re coming over to my house. I made cakes. You want one of my cakes, Uncle Luke?”
I glare at Gray, who just smirks back at me. He knows I can’t say no to this little girl—neither can he. “I can’t wait to eat one of your cakes, Graycee.” I bend down, scoop her up, and spin her around. “Are they chocolate?”
