Page 18 of Good Pucking Luck

My heart drops. Harry is the guy who proposed to that asshole at our game? The guy who’s been tortured online ever since the incident? “How…?”

“Hayes Rockwell.”

As soon as he says his name, the picture begins to form. Hayes Rockwell. Everyone knows the hotel heir is the man from our game, the one the media has called the most jilted ex of them all. That would also explain what he was doing at the Rockwell in Seattle. “Fuck. I took advantage of a Jilted Ex?”

He sits up quickly, anger shooting fire from his eyes. “Wait. How did you take advantage of me? I’m a consenting adult who, if I remember correctly, told you that I want to start slutting it up. I’m an adult who can make my own decisions, damn it!”

“That’s not what you said five minutes ago!” I argue.

“That’s when I thought you knew and were trying to play a joke on me!” He shoves to his feet. “Do you know how many creepy-ass guys I had try to get with me after everything went down? How many people told me they’d treat me better thanMalcolm ever did, and I know it was just because they wanted their piece of fame. I thought…”

He thought I’d been just like them. Jesus, this must have been hard on Hayes. On all the guys. I figured that, but I didn’t have a clue how bad it must have been. Not really. “I didn’t know.”

“I can see that now. You’re annoyingly genuine, and I…well, I might be a little high-maintenance, for lack of a better term.”

I look up at Harry—Hayes—standing over me. He proposed at a Rebels game to a douchebag who ended up having however the fuck many partners all over the country. He’s been mocked and teased online. Probably hounded. Embarrassed.

“Stop that!” he shouts.

“Huh? What did I do?”

“Now you’re feeling sorry for me. I can’t handle that. Don’t do it.”

“Okay,” I say, though I’m not sure I can follow through. How can I not feel sorry for him? Not in the way he seems to take it, but what happened to him was incredibly shitty.

“I’m serious, Rylan. I can’t handle pity. I’m taking my life back. That’s what our…” He shakes his hand back and forth between the two of us.

“Hookup?”

“Yes. That. It’s what that was about.”

“Did it help?”

He frowns. “I’m not going to sit here and build up your ego.”

“Technically, you’re standing.”

“Are you always like this?”

I grin proudly. “Yes, I am.”

Hayes rolls his eyes.

“That’s not why I’m asking, though. I seriously want to know. Not because I feel sorry for you, but because it’s important to me to leave partners satisfied.”

“You swallowed my satisfaction. You know I felt it.”

I snort-laugh. I can’t help but notice again how fun Hayes is, how fucking cute. “That’s not what I’m talking about. I mean, in other ways.”

He huffs, as if unhappy about what his response will be. He walks over to the armchair and plops down on it, clearly not wanting to be close to me. “Yes. Annoyingly so…until I realized you’re a hockey player.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Hayes

“Idon’t understandyour problem with hockey players,” Rylan says from his spot on the couch, and…holy shit. I’m in Rylan Pierce’s living room. The truth hits me, and I get a little dizzy, almost start having trouble breathing again, but I manage to keep myself in check. Barely.

“I don’t have a problem with hockey players. I never really thought of hockey players until recently.”

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