Page 91 of Mind Pucked

Hey girl, some of the ladies and I are going clubbing. Come with us! No kids, no guys, it’ll be fun! I won’t take no for an answer. See you at Club End Game at ten.

At first, I think about telling her no, but it’s been a really long time since I’ve been out with just the girls. I grab my purse andhead out the door, locking it behind me before sending her a text and reply.

Sure, I’ll be there.

I’m not sure why they’re only just going out so late at night, but I guess the clubs get better the later it is. Maybe I’m starting to be a little old-fashioned. I shake off the feeling of bedtime and head up to my room once I get back to my place.

In no time I’m dressed in a pair of black leggings and a crop top. It’s a little less conservative than I’m used to, but hey, I’m throwing caution to the wind. I need something to get Jackson and this whole mess with my brother off my mind.

After I fix my hair and apply a small amount of makeup, I throw on my Converse and grab my bag. Once I’m in an Uber and on my way, I take a few minutes to lay my head against the seat and think. My mind drifts to the fight Jackson had on the ice. I still want to know what he was so upset about. Is he still mad at me?

Although,madisn’t exactly the right word to describe how he was feeling toward me.Irate, orout of control with angerwould be more like it.

In no time we’re pulling up to the club, and after tipping the driver I get out and make my way in. I quickly find Brooke dancing with a group that includes some of the other girlfriends and wives to the players. They’re all dressed in short mini-dresses and wearing far less than I am, but I decide not to think about that too much.

“You look cute,” Brooke says as she comes up and wraps her arms around me.

I fall into the hug, wishing I could tell her about the situation with my brother and what happened between Jackson and me.

I wonder if she even knows we aren’t together anymore.

“Pick your poison,” she says, holding up a tray of shots that seem to have come from out of nowhere.

I’m having a hard time telling the difference between all of the varieties, so I take two. With one in each hand, I down them both back-to-back. I’m not sure it’s a wise decision, since the first is a spicy cinnamon flavor and the second is something fruity. I crinkle my nose at the mixture of flavors and Brooke laughs at me.

“You just had a cinnamon toast crunch and a Scooby snack. Not the best of combinations I’d say.” She giggles as she hands me a third one. “This one is a lemon drop—it should be a decent pallet cleanser.”

I smile at her and down this one too, not necessarily because I think I need a palate cleanser but because I think I need the alcohol.

I don’t normally drink this much, but I need something to kill the pain. I know I’ve made major mistakes in my relationship with Jackson, but part of me wishes he was here with me or that I was with him celebrating.

I continue taking shot after shot, keeping up with Brooke until the tray is empty and she excuses herself to the restroom—or to get more, I’m not sure. Between the last Scooby thing and the toast crunchy, lemon-drop-ish goodness, I’m feeling good.

“Hey, baby,” a voice calls from behind me.

The voice is a blast from the past, and I don’t even want to turn around, since I already know who the voice belongs to. My ex—Trevor Donahue. I try not to shudder at the thought of seeing him again after all this time.

Trevor and I dated for almost two years. Preston didn’t like him from the get-go, but I sure did. Until Trevor showed his true colors. Never once had I suspected him of being violent in any way, until we were together almost a year.

He started to be verbally abusive, but I tried to ignore those parts of him. Mostly because I wanted a boyfriend, and he was there. When he started to get physical around the two-year mark…well, it didn’t take me long to call my big brother and have him help me get out of there for good.

I turn slowly. I can’t let Trevor see my worry over seeing him again.

I haven’t seen him since the day Preston helped me leave, and I could live a lifetime without having to do it now.

“Hello, Trevor,” I say once we’re standing face-to-face.

He hasn’t changed a bit, it seems. He’s still the same smug-looking ass as the day I left.

Why does fate, or whoever or whatever controls my destiny, have to be so cruel?

“What are you up to nowadays?” he asks. “You look amazing, by the way,” he adds, which makes me want to cringe.

He leans in a little, smelling like straight-up alcohol.

“I’m fine, Trevor,” I say, looking around to see where Brooke went off to.

I see her dancing with some of the girls from our group across the bar. I don’t want to disturb her, but I don’t want to be standing here with him either.

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