Page 121 of That's Too Pucking Bad

He gives me a nod, not impressed, but acknowledging. “We’ll see how things go. Keep up the good work.”

Then, just like that, he walks off, disappearing. My dad watches him go, eyes flicking over to me as he lets out a breath.

“Not bad, huh?” he says, his voice filled with something close to approval, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

I’m still trying to shake off the feeling of that guy’s gaze, but I just grunt in response. My head is still somewhere else. Somewhere darker. Somewhere colder.

“Listen, son,” my dad starts, his tone suddenly dropping lower. “That girl...”

His words hit me, and I freeze mid-step, my body stiffening at the mention of her. I already know where this is going.

I swallow hard, my throat tight, but I say it anyway, like it’s the truth. “I’ve cut contact with her. It’s done.”

The air between us feels thick, heavier than it should be. My dad’s silence stretches out longer than I’m comfortable with. I glance at him, his eyes unreadable.

“You think she got the message?” he finally asks, voice smooth, like he’s testing the waters.

I hate the way my heart flutters, the way my gut twists. I know that tone. It’s the same one he uses when he’s digging for something, when he knows something I don’t.

“She’s out of my life,” I say, my words rough. “She’s not a problem anymore.”

The words feel wrong coming out of my mouth, but I can’t take them back now.

But my dad just snorts, a dry sound that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. “I don’t think she got the message, son. I saw her tonight. Definitely doesn’t look that way.”

I shake my head, my chest tight. I don’t know what else to say. “It’s done, okay? You don’t have to worry about her.”

My dad’s face hardens, his jaw tight, before he pulls out his phone and hands it to me. The screen lights up with a text from a hospital HR department asking for Remy’s mother to be fired immediately for inappropriate conduct.

I feel a chill run through me as I stare at the message, trying to make sense of it.

“She didn’t do anything,” I tell him.

“It doesn’t matter. I can build that hospital a whole new wing and they would sacrifice all their first borns to me if I asked.”

“Dad!”

“I’d hate for that hardworking woman to lose everything all because you didn’t listen. All because I told you to focus on what we’ve been working so hard for and you’ve been busy screwing her daughter.”

My breath hitches, my pulse skipping. My hand trembles as I swipe the screen, reading the message again, just to make sure I’m seeing it right.

“This isn’t—” I start, but my dad cuts me off.

“You’re not in control here, Zane. Not anymore.” His voice is quiet, controlled, like a predator who’s finally cornered its prey. “You say you’re done with her? Fine. But you already made a choice. Now you need to fix it.”

I’m staring at the phone, the words burning into me. It’s like the ground beneath me is shifting, like I’m losing my footing. The knot in my stomach tightens. I can’t breathe.

“You think you can walk away from this so easily?” my dad asks, his voice low, dark. “That she’s just some girl you can toss aside. She is not more important than the vision. No one is more important than hockey.”

I try to steady my breathing, but it’s no use. The cold sweat trickles down my spine as I picture Remy— her face, her eyes. I can imagine her, walking away from me, hurt and confused. She’s going to hate me after this. Really fucking hate me.

“Really be done with her,” my dad says again, his voice an order now, not a suggestion. “Because if you don’t make it official, I’ll make sure she loses everything.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. My stomach churns, and I’m fucking terrified.

“Don’t,” I manage to croak, my voice ragged.

But my dad’s expression is unwavering, cold. “It’s already done. You either fix it, or I’ll make sure her whole family pays for your mistakes.”

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