Page 59 of The Puck Secret

My head is pounding, and the dark amber cocktail doesn’t do anything but make my already pounding head hurt even more. It seems alcohol has lost the ability to numb all my pain. What kind of bullshit is that? I thought the more you drank the easier it is to forget, yet I feel empty and full of pain at the same time.

Like I said, bullshit.

Archer is practically burning a hole in the side of my head as he continues to stare at me, waiting for me to say something. I know he wants me to tell him what happened with Maddie, but I still can’t bring myself to say it all out loud to him. Not that it stops him from trying.

“So, are we going to talk about the elephant in the room, or are you gonna keep pretending I’m not here?” I hide my smirk in my drink, knowing he is the only person who can ever call me on my shit. And he’s right, I have been pretending he’s not here, not that his unwavering stare is helping.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I grumble, keeping my gaze on the room in front of us, still ignoring the lingering glances from a group of girls at the next table.

Archer scoffs, slamming his beer to the table after taking a deep pull from it. “Bullshit, you have been moping around about Princess Peters all damn week.”

“Don’t fucking call her that!” I snap, my eyes blazing into his, as I finally address him head on.

All he does is smirk, enjoying the rise he just pulled from me so easily. “Should I call her your girl instead?”

My stare hardens, making his smirk even wider. “She’s not my fucking girl,” I grit through my teeth, “She’s, she’s…” I trail off, coming up empty on how I can even finish that sentence, but Arch stays on my back anyway.

“Smart, gorgeous, funny, out of your league? Take your pick, Nineteen.” He ticks each one off on his fingers like an obnoxious asshole, keeping his smile in place.

“She’s a liar.” I finally finish my sentence with, because it’s the truth, and it’s as much as I am willing to share with him right now.

My response is enough to silence him and I return my glare back to the bar around us, finishing off my drink, and signaling to the waitress for another. Archer doesn’t linger any longer, sliding from the booth and heading over to join Reign, leaving me all alone once more.

It doesn’t last though, and I suppress a groan as I reach into my pocket as my phone starts to vibrate. I’ve already ignored several calls from my mom this week, softening her only with some half-assed messages to let her know I’m okay. Which we both know is total crap. Then there was a couple from my dad, following up on messages I sent him last week, but I am in no mood to talk to him right now, even though I know I need to. But as I pull the phone into my palm I see neither of their names. In fact, I see the last name I ever expected to grace my phone again, especially after how we left things.

Grim.

I haven’t got around to changing her name in my phone yet, and right now I wish I would have blocked her already. Because the slice of pain that cuts through me as her name lights up my phone almost kills me. What the hell is she doing? Why is she calling? I told her we were done, I thought my message was clear, so why the fuck is she calling me? I don’t bother finding out, rejecting the call and sending it to voicemail before she can change my mind and lie to me some more.

It’s been a week since it ended, what could she possibly have to say now? Maybe she hasn’t been satisfied by her future husband and she is looking for another fuck. Well, fuck that, she hurt me, which I didn’t even think was possible when it came to the female race. Why the fuck didn’t I just stick to the bunnies, just mindless fucking and desperate attempts to lock me down which would be rejected every time, life would have been easier.

My heart is racing, fresh anger and treachery consuming my every thought, which is only heightened when I get a notification for a new voicemail.She left a voicemail. What does it say? Sorry I didn’t tell you I had a boyfriend? Sorry I fucked you and fucked you over? Sorry I decided to slum it like my dad did with your mom? Her choices are endless really, and they force me from my seat as I head to the bar, ignoring the waitress with my fresh drink.

I order a round of shots and then start downing all six of them before the bartender has even finished pouring. One after the other until I become comfortably numb, and then I take the Old Fashioned from the waitress and drink that too. This is what I need, to drink until I can pass out, and forget all about the Mayor’s daughter and her wicked tongue.

Pushing off from the bar, I fumble to throw a few bills down to leave a tip, brushing into a guy by accident as I turn to leave.

“Watch it dick,” he grunts, shoving back against me and making me stumble.

“What did you just call me?” I find my feet and stare the asshole down, clenching my fists in anticipation. If alcohol isn’t working, maybe I can turn to another vice I enjoy.

“You heard me,” the piece of shit grunts, showing off to his friend beside him. “Watch where the fuck you’re going.” I decide at this instant that he isn’t worth it, shaking my head and turning to leave once more, but then he adds beneath his breath, “Hockey scum.” And I smile as I crack my neck.

“You’re gonna regret that,” I warn, my fist already flying before he can even register my words.

What’s a little blood to add to my already bleeding heart?

I’m trying to focus on everything the woman in front of me is saying. Trying to pay attention to the color swatches in her hand, and the dozens of floral arrangements on the table beside us, but all I can think about ishim. Not the man beside me who is set to become my husband, Not the one I am sitting here and planning an engagement party with.

My engagement party.

If only my life were that simple.

No, instead I am thinking about the one with dark eyes and rough hands, the one who can be both callous and demanding, but also passionate and gentle. The one who is the last person I ever thought would make me fall, and the one who stepped back before he could catch me.

Except that isn’t right, he didn’t step back, I pushed him, violently, volatilely, and oh so viciously. I pushed him so hard he went over the edge with me, tumbling into my downfall with no one to save him, but how could I save him? I can’t even save myself.

My brother’s words from earlier this week are playing on a loop in my head.“You’re not fucking marrying Bradley Thorne, Maddie, if it’s the last thing I ever do.”He stormed out without another word, and I wanted to believe him, I wanted to believe him so badly it hurt, but now here I sit, with my future husband clutching my fingers tightly between his own.

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