Page 80 of Puck Block

I pass by the firefighter,the same one that keeps gawking at Taytum, and hear what he says to Rush. “Yeah, it must have been a fluke. I’d change all the batteries in the alarms to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

I clear my throat.A fluke.

“Emory, I’m fine.” Taytum is barely keeping up with Emory as he drags her through the empty frat house.

We thought fast on our feet when we ran into Emory on the stairs. His heavy browline furrowed as he looked between us, and I jumped into action. I lied and told him that I went to look for Taytum when the alarms started to go off and that I had found her in a sugar episode.

“Are you sure?” Emory asks.

I put my hands in my pockets and try to act casual as I trail behind them. Taytum rips her arm away, and Emory lets go willingly. “Yes. I know how to check my sugar and when I need to give myself medicine,Dad.Chill out.”

“She’s fine, Em,” I add.

I make a conscious decision to keep my eyes away from Taytum, especially in front of him.

He doesn’t look convinced. “Whatever. I’m taking you home. Let’s go.”

Taytum hesitates, and I want to step in so badly and tell him that I’ll take her home, but that’ll only make things worse. He’ll ask why, and then I’ll have to come up with another lie. There are lies all over the place at this point.

“I can make it home without your help,” Taytum stresses.

“Go,” he urges, opening the car door.

She hesitates again, and my body burns the moment she swings her blue eyes in my direction.

Don’t do this to me,I silently plead.

I swallow my thick spit, keep my gaze as steady as I can, and say, “Later.”

Later? Did I seriously say…later?

If I could punch myself repeatedly without causing concern, I would.

Emory looks at me oddly, but I quickly turn and head for my car, because honest to God, I can’t make sense of my behavior.

When I’m tucked behind the wheel, I turn up the music to drown out the noise in my head. It’s a cluster of dirty thoughts, cravings, refusal, and guilt. I had every intention of going back to my dorm room to put myself in a much-needed time-out, but instead, I end up at the rink.

It’s just me, the rink, and the puck.

I swing my stick back, balancing on the ice, and shoot the little black biscuit into the net.

Swish.

Swish.

Swish.

I start to list every reason to stay away from Taytum halfway through my therapy session.

“Emory is your best friend, and he will kill you.”Swish.

“You’re too young to die.”Swish.

“Plus, you’re too good looking to die.”Swish.

“You could lose everything.”Swish.

“If things go awry, there goes any family stability you have in your life.”Swish.

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