Page 49 of Pucking my Enemy Boss

Liam: Did you ditch us? The fans miss your Grinchy face.

They’re worried, but it’s typical. A small smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. Leave it to these two to check in, even while throwing shade.

Me: I’m fine. Just needed some air. How’s the event going?

Ryan: It’s chaos, obviously. But fans are loving it. The kid next to me is literally covered in glitter.

Liam: We might lose him in the lights. Glitter boy is practically glowing.

Me: Good to hear. Catch you later.

The messages die down, but that annoying weight doesn’t leave my chest. No number of dumb jokes or Ryan’s constant stream of sarcasm can fix this. Not this time.

The stairs creak as I head down to the kitchen. Could really use a drink right about now. Something stronger than whatever’s sitting in the fridge, but a glass of water will have to do. The cold glass presses against my lips, and for a second, everything freezes—just long enough to keep my head from spiraling out of control.

But there’s no ignoring it forever. David’s room pulls at me like a magnet, its door half-open down the hall. It hasn’t been touched since the day he left. Not a single thing moved. The bed’s still made with that plaid blanket he used to throw over everything, and the books on the shelf are stacked just the way he liked them—his weird, obsessive way of alphabetizing by genre and size.

The room smells like old leather and faint cologne, the kind David used to wear even though it always seemed a little too strong for him. Standing in the doorway, it’s like the accident never happened, like David might walk in at any second, joking about something random or asking about practice. But he won’t. He’s not coming back, and that knowledge sits like a lead weight in my gut.

Fingers trail over the spine of a book he loved—The Art of War. Fitting. This whole situation with Raymond Blue feels like a war, one I’m losing, even before I’ve really fought back. David should be here, enjoying all of this—the success, the wins, everything we worked for. Instead, it’s just me. Alone.

“What am I supposed to do, huh?” My voice comes out rough, almost bitter. Like David can hear me through the walls or wherever he is now. “You’re supposed to be here. You should’ve been the one dealing with this crap, not me.”

Silence answers, like always.

A laugh escapes, hollow and twisted. “You’d know what to do with this Blue situation. You’d tell me to shut him down, ignore the press, just keep playing.” I run a hand through my hair, feeling the familiar frustration bubble up. “But that doesn’t stop the problem, does it? The family won’t back off. They’ll keep taking and taking until there’s nothing left.”

Anger flashes hot in my chest. Blue has the power to make it worse. One article from him, and suddenly everyone’s talking. And the family? They’re waiting in the wings like vultures, ready to swoop in and take advantage of whatever chaos comes next. Give in now, and they’ll keep coming back for more. Give them an inch, and they’ll bleed me dry.

My fingers tighten around the edge of the bookshelf. “You should be here,” I mutter, teeth clenched. “This shouldn’t be on me. It shouldn’t have been you.”

But it was. It always will be.

David’s shadow hangs over everything—his absence a constant reminder of what’s been lost. And maybe that’s what makes this harder. Because every decision, every choice, is a reminder that he’s not here to make any of them.

The door creaks from down the hall, and Holly’s voice echoes softly, breaking through the fog of thoughts. “Ethan?”

I step out of the room, the weight of David’s absence still clinging to me like a second skin. Holly’s standing there, eyes soft, arms wrapped around herself like she’s trying to shield from something more than just the cold. Without a word, she closes the distance and wraps her arms around me. Warmth floods through the cold that’s been sitting there for hours.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers into my chest, her breath warm against the fabric of my shirt. “About today. The interview ... all of it. It’s my fault.”

I shake my head, the heaviness still there but loosening slightly with her so close. “It’s not your fault. Blue would’ve found a way to mess with me whether you invited me or not.”

She pulls back just enough to look up at me, eyes filled with guilt. “I feel like I led you into it, though. It was my idea to have you at the interview. I should’ve known better.”

Something in my chest tightens. This guilt is not hers to bear. My hand moves on its own, brushing a stray curl behind her ear and a wry smile twists my lips. “Believe me, no one can predict what Blue’s gonna pull. He’s a professional sleaze.”

She lets out a soft laugh, but it’s strained, and that guilt is still written all over her face. “I just want to make it better. I hate seeing you like this.”

The knot in my chest loosens a little more, but there’s still a war going on inside. The need to connect to her, to enjoy her shield from all this mess, is strong. But the more she gets involved, the more tangled everything becomes.

Her voice pulls me back. “Has he always gone after you like that?”

My brow furrows, confused by the question. “Blue?”

“Yeah, Blue. He seems to have something against you.”

The knot tightens again. Of course, Blue probably tried to poison her against me. He wouldn’t be doing his job as theworld’s most annoying reporter if he didn’t throw a few jabs in her direction. “Did he tell you anything about me?”

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