Page 46 of That's Too Pucking Bad

“Let’s go talk to them,” Caleb says, nudging me with a grin. He’s practically bouncing.

We walk over, and Caleb’s the first to speak. “Maya, you guys coming to the game tomorrow?”

Maya grins. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

But Remy crosses her arms, giving me a half-smile. “I, uh, won’t be there,” she says, looking almost unapologetic.

My stomach sinks as I eye her up and down. I keep my face blank as I ask, “Why not?”

She shrugs, glancing away. “Busy.”

Her phone rings, saving her from having to elaborate. She mumbles something and steps away, the phone already to her ear.

I turn to Maya, trying to keep my tone casual. “What is she so busy with?”

Maya gives me a knowing look. “It’s her anniversary. Colin’s taking her out for the night.”

Anniversary.With Colin.

It’s like lead settling in my gut, cold and heavy. I feel fucking sick to my stomach.

Maya leans in to give Caleb a quick kiss, and they exchange some hushed words before she waves and heads off. Caleb watches her go, grinning, then turns to me, his expression shifting when he catches my face.

“She’s got a boyfriend, dude.”

“No shit.”

He squints at me. “Alright, well, I’ve got a dinner thing with my old man. But we could meet up and blow off some steam?”

“Nah, I’m alright,” I say, clapping him on the shoulder. “Go deal with your dad. I’ll catch you tomorrow.”

He hesitates, but nods, giving me one last glance before he heads out. I watch him leave, alone again with thoughts that only seem to get worse by the second.

By the time I’m home, I’m running hot. I step inside, ready to crash, but my dad’s voice hits me like a bucket of ice water.

“There you are,” he calls from the kitchen. “Get showered and dressed. We’re having dinner with a couple of scouts tonight.”

I freeze, the frustration bubbling over. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously.” He steps into the hallway, arms crossed, looking me over like I’m some screw-up who needs a lesson. “Do you know how hard it was to line this up?”

“Great. Thanks for setting it up. But maybe I don’t want to go.”

My dad’s face hardens, and his voice drops a notch. “Zane, get showered. You’re going.”

I stand there, letting my irritation slip out. “I just played my ass off at practice, and you want me to schmooze some suits instead of prepping for tomorrow? Isn’t that what you’re always telling me— focus on the game?”

His jaw twitches, and he takes a step forward, looming over me. “You want to talk about focus? I’ve spent years getting you to this point. Years. You’re going.”

“And what if I don’t?” The words are out before I can stop myself.

His face darkens, and without warning, his fist slams into my cheek. Hard. It’s like I’ve been blindsided on the ice. My head jerks to the side, my vision blurs, and I stumble back, barely catching myself against the wall.

There’s a ringing in my ear, and my face throbs as the pain settles in, deep and raw. He’s not usually one to hit, but when he does, he makes sure it counts.

I stand there, too stunned to move, the taste of blood on my tongue. He strides to the freezer, grabs a handful of ice, and tosses it at me, the cubes scattering across the floor.

“Put that on your face,” he says coldly. “And sleep it off. It’s obvious you still have adrenaline to burn.”

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