Page 93 of My Pucking Crush

“No. No. We need to get back.” His dad takes his mother by the arm. “Like she said, good game. When is the next one? Next week?”

I stifle a laugh. This guy doesn’t know anything about hockeyorthe schedule.

“The day after tomorrow,” Max says. “Why don’t you—”

“Oh no. This was a nightmare trek,” his mom says.

Some playersflewtheir family in. Everyone in the players’ rows were smiling, having a ball, wearing team merch.

These two look like they attended a funeral.

“Well, it’s just the first round. I’ll email you the full schedule so maybe you can...” He stops talking when they fidget.

Why did they even come tonight?

“Maxwell, can we talk to you for a moment?” his father asks, his eyes telling me to go away.

Max catches the stare and folds his arms. “Luca is my bodyguard. He’s not to leave my side except when I’m on the ice. I’m not on the ice. He stays. Talk.”

“James, I’ll call him tomorrow.” Max’s mother tugs his dad’s arm.

They don’t even ask why he has a bodyguard.

“You’re here. What do you need?” Max asks like he knows. He’s seen this movie before.

“Jimmy got into some trouble,” his mother takes over.

Jimmy, I’m assuming that’s a brother.

Samara comes to mind. All week, I’ve thought about her, how Belova is holding her. There’s nothing I can do, except agree to a complete surrender. I take comfort in knowing Belova won’t hurt her. He just wants to scare me. I have a deadline. So long as I stick to it, she’ll be fine.

Plus, if she tells me he mistreated her, I’ll kill him. And he knows it—because he knows me.

Max dumps his head in his hands, his movement bringing me back to this moment. “What kind of trouble?” he asks.

“Another DWI. Jimmy got passed over for a promotion again. Even though he’s the best janitor that school has ever had.” His father puffs out his check, proud as fuck.

Prouder of a screw-up son than the highly accomplished son standing before him.

All because Max likes guys.

Fuck.

“Where is he?” Max asks.

“In county lock up. The bond was pricey and—”

“How much?” Max bites out.

“Ten thousand,” his father bravely answers.

“I’ll have my accountant wire you—”

“We need money for a lawyer this time, too,” his mom says like she’s talking to a bank. “Jimmy says it’s not his fault, and he’s going to plead not guilty.”

Max looks ready to explode. “Have Jimmy call me. You’ll get the ten grand for the bond but I’m not paying for a lawyer until I talk to him.”

“Seems like you don’t have time to talk,” his father says, irritated.

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