Page 26 of Puck Block

Her eyes light up at my acceptance, and she nods with excitement.

Taytum could have any guy she comes into contact with, and it’s partly my fault that she can’t see that. Stepping in line with Emory and taking on the role of protective older brother was the easiest route for me to take when we were younger. If I wasn’t allowed to pursue her, no one was.

It’s going to be difficult to pull myself out of that role, but I’m going to keep my word.

I’m going to back off—a little.

I’m going to give her some breathing room.

That doesn’t mean I have to like it, though.

“Emory won’t find out,” she assures me. “It’s not like I’m going to let some guy fuck me in front of him.”

Something hot slashes the back of my neck with thoughts of her beneath some guy.

“Come on,” I say, after putting money down on the table for the bill. “I have a hot date tomorrow with my hockey stick and a little black puck.”

The tiniest dimple pops out on Taytum’s cheek, and I drape my arm over her shoulders. When we make it to my car, she peers up at me, and I see the real her—the vulnerable one without a hint of anger or irritation.

“Thanks, Ford.”

I open her door, and she climbs inside my car. “For what?”

She smiles softly, and it's like looking at a ray of sunshine. “For listening to me. And for understanding.”

The feeling I get when she looks at me like that is enough to make me panic. I slam the door in her face and curse under my breath.

Taytum is going to end up putting me in my grave.

[ 11 ]

TAYTUM

The crowd is on fire,and booze is spilling all over the place from everyone jumping up and down. A smile reaches my lips when I watch the black-and-white jerseys come together on the ice with their sticks raised high.

Claire is jumping up and down beside me, and I laugh at her excitement. Theo, who just scored the goal, points at her, and even I can feel the warmth. Our hands clasp, and we raise them in the air. I shift my attention to the one Bexley U player who is skating laps around the ice, encouraging the fans to roar louder, before he nearly tackles Theo with excitement.

Ford is skilled beyond belief on the ice–as are most of the Bexley U players–but he doesn’t get a lot of recognition because he’s never the one shooting the goals. His assists, though? Those are insane, and it’s something Theo brags about every time he has an interview. In fact, Ford is close to breaking the school’s record. My smile grows deeper when he takes Ford’s gloved hand and raises it in the air for the crowd to cheer his name too.

Ford eats up the attention.

He bows like a ballerina, and I can’t help but laugh.

There’s one minute left in the game, and Bexley U has it in the bag. I pull out my phone and video chat with my parents so they can catch the end celebration.

My mom’s face is the first to appear, and although I told them I’d call them when the game was almost over so they could catch the live action, her first reaction is to worry.

“Is everything okay?”

I sigh. “I’m fine, Mom. Enjoy the game.”

I flip the camera around at the perfect time, because Emory blocks a puck. The crowd loses it again, and there are multiple fans high-fiving one another for the block. A few moments later, the buzzer sounds, and the game is over.

The team comes together on the ice, and I hear my dad talking about the scouts that are at the game, watching the guys. They’ll be off to the pros later this year—there is no doubt about it. Unfortunately, I’ll be stuck here, still testing my sugar and injecting insulin.

That is, if my parents don’t try to guilt me into moving home so I can be closer, since Emory and Ford will be off somewhere else. There’s a flicker of sadness at the thought of them leaving, but that is ridiculous because, since high school, I’ve wished for nothing else but for them to give me space. Now that it’s about to become a reality, though, I notice the tiniest bit of emptiness.

I shake my head at the thought.

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