Page 43 of Pucking Obsessed

“I love it here so much,” I whisper against his lips, my fingers threading through his hair as we pull away to breathe. “It’s like a different world. I wish we could stay here forever.”

He dips his head so his mouth brushes against my neck as he holds me tightly. “Me too. Me too, baby.”

HAYDEN

The St. Charles hallway that leads to the locker rooms smells like sweat and defeat. Nah, we’ve only beaten them once this year, but they really need to fire whoever picked the air freshener that doesn’t mask the smell of how gross hockey players are, but rather makes it smell like cinnamon-coated sweat. Callum leans against the wall like he doesn’t have a care in the world, tossing a puck from one hand to the other. Tristan is beside him, arms crossed, quiet as always, but you can tell by the look on his face that he’s ready to snap the second someone so much as breathes in his direction.

Won’t be me. I’m in a good mood. I told Madison I love her, and I could tell she wanted to say it back. That’s a win, and I don’t care what the fuck else happens tonight.

I glance over my shoulder toward the rink. Through the glass doors, I can see Madison sitting front row with Winter. She’s got her legs crossed, her blonde hair shining under the arena lights. She’s wearing the jersey I gave her, and I take back what I said. If I hear one motherfucker call her princess, we’re going to need the entire St. Charles EMS team on standby. She looks at me and smiles, giving me a little wave. That's my girl. Right there, out in the open for everyone to see.

A cocky-looking St. Charles player strolls past, shoulder-checking Callum like he owns the place. He’s injured, and I assume that’s why he’s got an attitude with us. We probably fucked him up last time we played these fuckers. Before I can even react, Tristan sticks out his foot. The guy doesn’t stand a chance. He goes down hard, his stick clattering to the ground, and Tristan doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even look down. Just says, “Oops,” like it’s no big deal as the guy gets up and shuffles away in a huff.

“Where the fuck is Ramsey?” I snap, my patience hanging by a literal dry-rotted thread. I’m acting like he hasn’t been doing us a huge favor since before the attack even happened. Good thing he wouldn’t expect anything less from me.

“Jeez, Lockwood. Unknot your fucking panties. I’m here.” As if on cue, Ramsey Blackwood’s voice cuts through my little tantrum, and I turn to see him strolling toward us.

Ramsey’s got that easy, cocky swagger that makes people want to punch him on sight. He doesn’t look much like Tristan, lighter hair, a mole on his cheek and he’s definitely more Blackwood than Vale if that gleam in his eyes is any indication. Where Tristan is cold and methodical, Ramsey’s got that chaos vibe, the kind of guy who’d set a building on fire just to see how it burns.

“About damn time, we’ve been in this hallway for twenty minutes,” I lie, it’s only been seven, but the way my personality is set up, it feels like a fucking month. Ramsey grins, like he’s entertained by my irritation.

“What’s the real problem? Can’t get your stepsister to fuck you silly yet?” he asks, his tone dripping with mock understanding as he nods toward Madison. “Nice of her to come watch me beat you guys.”

Tristan cuts in, leveling his cousin with a stare when he says, “I seeyourlittle side piece brought her boyfriend to the game. Is that why you’re late?”

Ramsey’s nostrils flare, and it’s clear that one hit him where it hurts.

But I’m not in the mood for their bullshit. It was fine when I was bitching, but I don’t wanna hear them bitching. “Knock it the fuck off,” I snap. “Yes, I brought Madison because I need eyes on her at all times. Since, you know, we haven’t figured out who the guy is that attacked us.” I don’t know why I’m acting like it’s his job to find him, other than the fact that he’s always fucking saying he can find anyone, even people who go to great lengths not to be found.

Ramsey smiles now, I guess deciding that he’s now team Kings of Castlebrook. “I could take care of that for you real quick.”

“How?” Tristan asks, his tone clipped but curious. I glance at him and notice the darkness under his eyes for the first time. I’ve been so wrapped up in Madison, that I haven’t really noticed much else. He must not be sleeping again, which really is no surprise. He’s suffered from night terrors for a long time, and I suspect the attack, and the fact that Winter could have been harmed isn’t helping any.

Ramsey shrugs, like what he’s about to say is the most casual thing in the world. “Tracker in the neck. Pretty straightforward. You want one for Winter? She’d probably thank you for it. That girl thinks you hung the fucking moon.”

Tristan’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t immediately shut the idea down, which surprises me. Ramsey just stands there, grinning like the smug bastard he is.

I glance back at Madison through the glass. She’s laughing at something Winter said, her head tilted back, her smile lighting up the entire fucking rink. Phones can be stolen or broken.They can run out of battery or die for no reason. But a tracker in her neck? That would mean knowing where she is, always. It’s insane behavior even for us, but then again, I’m not above anything when it comes to Madison.

“So is that like…microchipping a bull or a bronc?” Callum cuts in, his tone curiously dismissive, like he’s bored because he doesn’t have anyone to track, but still wants to be involved in the conversation. I glance over, half-expecting Ramsey to blow a gasket, and I’m not disappointed.

“Why the fuck would you need to track a fucking bull?” Ramsey’s eyebrows shoot up, his glare fixed on Callum.

Callum shrugs, completely unfazed. “A 100-grand bronc is easy to load on a trailer. It disappears and gets resold, it’s nice to be able to show up with papers and get it back.”

“He’s from fucking Narnia,” Tristan mutters, rubbing his temples. “Can we focus on the important shit? Will it hurt her?”

Ramsey pulls his lip up like it’s a stupid question to ask. As if we run around doing mafia-esque shit like the fucking Blackwood brothers on a daily basis. “She’ll be asleep, right?” Ramsey asks, but it’s clear in his inflection that he already knows the answer. “You’re going to tell her, because you don’t lie to her. And she’ll agree, because she trusts you,” Ramsey says. He stretches, yawning and then adds,“You can tell her, or you don’t have to. Doesn’t matter to me. But she’s gotta be out cold. I’m not dealing with flinching or crying.”

I glance at Tristan, who nods, his lips pressing into a thin line. It’s enough of an answer for me. He’s on board and so am I.

Callum, ever the comic relief, reaches out and tugs on Ramsey’s bracelet that has light purple beads on it and two more prominent beads that have the letter ‘R’ printed on them. “Nice friendship bracelet,” he teases, grinning like a little shit. “Who’s the other ‘R’? Is she the one with the boyfriend?”

Ramsey doesn’t hesitate. He slams Callum into the wall with his shoulder, snapping, “You break it, I’ll break your face.”

Callum just laughs, completely unfazed. “Relax, Romeo. It’s cute. Really.”

Ramsey ignores him, handing a flash drive over to Tristan. “This is everything I found on the two fuckers we sent on vacation. Nothing to write home about. It can’t be random, so that means the key is the third guy’s identity. What’s the plan to find him? Do you think he’s on your campus like the other two? Did he seem about the same age? I’m practically going on nothing here.”

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