Page 11 of That's Too Pucking Bad

“You good, man?” Caleb asks, noticing the shift in my mood.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say, shoving the paper in my bag.

He gives me a long look but doesn’t push it. “Alright. See you on the ice.”

Practice starts, and it’s like a switch flips in me. All my attention, all my aggression, it pours out on the ice. I’m skating harder than usual, hitting drills with more intensity than I should, but I can’t shake this irritation crawling under my skin.

Coach Jacobs notices. Of course, he does.

“Zane!” he barks, his voice booming across the rink. “Keep your head in the game. Stop letting your personal shit affect your performance.”

I give him a quick nod, pushing harder. My teammates—Noah, Brody, Declan, Thatcher—are all watching me out of the corner of their eyes. They know something’s up, but no one says shit. They’re smart enough not to.

I’m their captain after all.

We run through a few more drills, scrimmage for a while, and then finally, Coach blows the whistle, signaling the end of practice.

Caleb skates over to me, breathing heavily. “Dude, you looked like you were about to kill someone out there.”

“All good,” I mutter, yanking off my helmet and running a hand through my damp hair.

“Yeah, sure,” he says, but there’s doubt in his voice.

As we head back to the locker room, Caleb nudges me again. “What’s your deal with Remy anyway? You’ve barely said two words to her.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I snap, shoving my gear into my locker.

Caleb raises his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. Jesus. You’re wound up tight today.”

I pull out my phone, scrolling through my contacts, my thumb hovering over Amelia’s name. Fuck it. I need a distraction.

I shoot her a quick text.Meet me at the mansion later.

By the time I’m dressed and heading out of the rink, I already have a response.I’ll be there babe. Xo

Chapter 3

The hospital cafeteria is buzzing with people, but all I hear is the sound of my mom’s voice. She’s sitting across from me, sipping on her coffee, her eyes soft and tired. It’s only been a week since I started school, but it feels like forever since we’ve sat like this.

“How’s the first week been, baby?” she asks, setting her cup down. Her smile is warm, but I can see the exhaustion behind it. I hate that she works so hard.

“It’s good,” I lie. “A lot of reading and homework stuff, but it’s okay.” I shrug, trying to sound casual.

My mom glances at me, her eyes narrowing just a little. She can always tell when I’m holding something back. “You sure? You don’t look too thrilled.”

I laugh, waving it off. “Yeah. I’m good, Mom. Really.” Then I pause, chewing on my bottom lip before asking, “You doing okay at home? It must be boring without me there.”

She chuckles, shaking her head. “Boring? Not with the extra shifts I’ve picked up. I’m hardly ever home.”

My stomach twists with guilt. Of course, she’s working more. I’m at the most expensive university, and she’s breaking her back to make more money.

“I wish I could help,” I mumble, looking down at my untouched sandwich. “I could get a job or something.”

She’s already shaking her head before I even finish. “Hush, baby. Focus on school. That’s all I want you to worry about.”

I nod, but it doesn’t make the guilt go away. I know money’s tight. It’s always been tight. And here I am, living in a dorm and going to classes while she’s working double shifts at the hospital.

“Do you need anything? Books? Supplies?” she asks, her voice gentle, but I can hear the strain behind it.

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