Page 12 of Pucking Obsessed

I chuckle darkly, my stick raised to take another shot. “With pleasure.” I grin and launch another puck into the net with ease.

We keep skating, the sound of the pucks cracking against the boards like thunder. Before I can take another shot, the coach blows his damn whistle. “Get off my ice, and hit the showers. You better have your shit together for the game this weekend, Lockwood. Your little sidekick, too.”

Callum flips Coach both of his middle fingers without turning around to look at him as we both head for the locker room. The clang of skates against metal echoes in the hallway as I head inside. I peel off my gear and toss it into my locker. I don’t waste any time showering, and the water feels hot against my skin, but it doesn’t help ease any of the tension that has me knotted up. I stroked my cock thinking of Madison multiple times last night, wrapping that light pink, silky ribbon I swiped from her, mimicking her silky skin. No matter how many times I come, it’s not enough. It won’t be until I’m filling her, watching it drip down her thighs. I shake away the thought and quickly step out of the shower and towel off, wrapping the fluffy fabric around my hips. The last thing I need is to be caught with a fucking hard-on in the locker room.

When I head over to my locker, I see Scott Jacobs standing there in a towel, smirking like he owns the whole damn campus. His eyes flicker over to me as I reach for my clothes. He’s always got that look on his face, like a shih tzu ready to yap at a doberman.

“Word around campus is that your new sister doesn’t want anything to do with you,” he says, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Such a shame, she’s a nice piece of?—”

Before he can finish, I move fast, grabbing him by the hair and slamming his head against one of the benches in the middle of the rows of lockers. The sound of his skull hitting dense wood is satisfying, and I feel the blood rush to my hands. His eyes widen, shock filling his expression as I keep his head pinned down. I can hear the fuckers on my team talking, gathering around to watch what’s happening, but I don’t give a fuck. Take a fucking picture so the next idiot who thinks talking about Madison is a good idea can have a warning.

“Shut up,” I growl, rage filling my voice in a way I can’t quite suppress.

Scott cries out, his breath hitching, his hands scrambling for purchase on anything that will give him the slightest bit of leverage. I’m not letting him finish that sentence. He’s not going to talk about Madison like that.

His fingers dig into my wrist, trying to pull my hand away. “Let me go,” he gasps, his voice strained. “My mother will have your ass expelled for this.”

His threat falls flat, barely registering as I keep my grip firm on his head. I slam it down again, just enough to remind him of who’s in control, but not hard enough to cause any lasting damage. “Shut your fucking mouth,” I snap. “Say one more word, and I’ll make you regret it. Don’t talk to her. Don’t look at her. Don’t even think about her. She’s mine.”

He starts to whimper, his eyes darting around the room, looking for anyone who might help him. But there’s no one who wants a piece of me. It’s just me and him, and he’ll never win that fight.

I let go of him, watching him crumble to the floor, gasping for air. I don’t even look at him as I grab my gray sweatpants and navy hoodie from my locker, pulling them on. His pathetic attempt to threaten me doesn’t even faze me. He’s weak. He’s nothing.

When I go to close my locker, something catches my eye.

A necklace.

My breath hitches. I recognize it immediately. The gold chain. There’s a dried brown stain on it. It’s the one my mother always wore. The one she had on the night she was murdered. I know it wasn’t recovered, because my father had a fucking fit about it.

I look around the room, trying to discern who could have done this while I was on the ice. I shove it into my pocket, and my mind is racing with every possibility. Whoever killed my mother, and Madison’s father, is still out there. And now they’re toying with me. They want me to know they’re still here.

It wasn’t a fluke. It wasn’t a random act of violence like the dean is telling all the concerned parents. If it really was someone Madison’s father owed money to, they’re after me, maybe Madison too, now.

MADISON

The cool breeze brushes my cheeks, and even though I’ve been jumping around trying to follow the cheerleading coach’s routine, I still feel chilled. I missed this, and even though I tried to find a way out of joining the team when Kirsten insisted, I’m kind of glad to be here. Cheering is something I really enjoyed in high school before I had to quit to start working. It’s something that comes naturally to me and it allows me to keep my mind from dwelling on things I can’t change at the moment. I’m out here on the side of the football field, the grass crunching beneath my feet and it’s almost enough to keep my thoughts from straying to last night.

Things got so intense so fast, and what’s throwing me is the fact that I wanted them to. That kiss was something spectacular, even though he’s probably kissed a million girls just like that. It made me forget every reason I have to keep my distance from Hayden. God, the way he felt against me, holding me in place made me want to just melt into him. My body still reacts every time I think about it. It’s like I can’t help but crave his closeness. He’s dominant, fully in control, yet there’s something gentle in the way he touches me. That right there is what makes me lean into him, wanting more instead of less.

Hayden has texted me throughout the day, and I’ve dryly responded to every single one. Part of me wants to see if he was just threatening when he said he’d show up for a sleep over. The more rational part of me, that’s between my ears, not between my thighs, knows that Hayden sleeping in my bed could only end in catastrophe.

A catastrophe that I’m certain would be preceded by multiple orgasms.

But something else bothers me about this whole thing, and it has less to do with Hayden demanding that I check in with him, and more to do with the fact that I surprisingly like it. I’ve never had anyone check in on me like that. Never had anyone make me feel like I wasn’t expendable, like I matter. My mom? She didn’t check in on me, not unless it was to ask if I had money. And my dad? I’d be willing to bet that if he was still alive and someone asked him my eye color, my middle name or my birthday, he wouldn’t be able to come up with one correct answer.

A dull ache twists in my chest as the thought of my father hits me. I don’t often think about him, mostly because I’m relieved he’s gone. But the more I think about how I only narrowly escaped his plan to sell me, the more my stomach churns. As much as I didn’t want to come to Castlebrook, it’s probably the safest place for me right now.

Hayden had been so serious last night when he said he wanted to make sure I was safe. It sounded almost... comforting. I hate how much I want to believe him, to trust that he’s telling me the truth, but it’s hard to fathom that he cares this deeply for someone he really doesn’t know.

And yet the way he’s checked in on me throughout the day, it’s... different than anything I think I’ll ever experience again once I leave this place. I get this flutter in my chest every time I see his name light up my screen. It feels good, in a way that confuses me. I’ve always done everything for myself, neverletting anyone in. He won’t allow that, and I don’t think I can pretend like I want to stop him anymore.

My thoughts are broken when the coach calls a two-minute break, her voice cutting through the air as she yells at Kirsten for messing up the steps again. The two of them start bickering back and forth, and the coach snaps, "You think you’re untouchable because you’re a Lockwood, but that shit doesn’t work with me, sweetie.”

Kirsten, ever the smart mouth, grins at her. "What will you do when you’re fired? You’ll have to move to another planet to get another coaching job when I’m finished with you."

I snicker quietly under my breath because I’ve never heard privilege leak out of someone's mouth like this before. I wouldn’t want to be on anyone’s radar for speaking to them that way, because in my experience that shit comes back on you and quickly. I guess when you’re a Lockwood, you get away with a lot of things.

With the momentary break, I slide the phone that was given to me by Mr. Lockwood out of the waistband of my cheer skirt and glance down at it. There are two texts and one is from Hayden.

---