Page 138 of That's Too Pucking Bad

“What?” I stare at her, stunned.

“You heard me,” she says, leaning forward. “I never treated you differently, Remy. Not once. So why the hell would you cut me off just because of him?”

I open my mouth, but no words come out.

“You’re so damn closed-minded,” she says, shaking her head. “You never even tried to see how much Zane’s changed.”

“Maya, stop,” I whisper, but she’s on a roll now.

“He was cut off, Remy,” she says, her voice biting. “His dad found out about you and kicked him to the curb. You think he’s living some charmed life right now? He’s working part-time at a garage uptown, busting his ass to get by.”

I blink, stunned. “What?”

“He had a choice,” she says, her voice softer now. “And he chose you. He gave up everything because he loved you. And yeah, he’s fucked up. A lot. But he’s trying, Remy. He’s trying for you.”

My chest tightens, but I don’t say anything.

Maya stands, pulling a piece of paper from her pocket and dropping it on the table. “Here’s the address,” she says. “Friday, 8 p.m. I hope you come because I won’t be seeing you otherwise.”

She walks out without another word, leaving me sitting there, dumbstruck.

The rest of my shift is a blur. I move through the motions— taking orders, wiping tables— but my brain is stuck on her words. Zane, working at a garage? Zane, cut off from his family? None of it makes sense.

By the time I clock out, my head’s spinning, and I still don’t know what the hell I’m going to do.

Chapter 31

The shower’s scalding hot, but I need it. My muscles ache in ways they never did on the ice. A full day at the garage does that, I guess. Wrenching, hauling, sweating— it’s not glamorous, but it’s mine.

I lean against the tile wall for a second, letting the water run over me. I’m not just tired. I’m… empty.

When I step out, I grab a towel and rub it over my hair before wrapping it around my waist. In the mirror, my tattoo catches my eye. Her eyes. Remy’s. Staring back at me from my arm like a goddamn brand.

I miss her. Not in some vague, distant way. It’s sharp, raw. A constant, gnawing ache that doesn’t go away no matter how busy I keep myself.

She’s in every thought, every quiet moment.

I drop the towel and pull on a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt, fingers moving on autopilot. Caleb’s not here— big surprise. He’s got practice or some Reaper meeting or whatever the hell else he’s picked up since stepping into my captain spot.

The Reapers. Hockey. All of it feels like another life.

I sold my car last week. The Camaro. I hated doing it, but cash is cash, and pride doesn’t pay rent. Caleb doesn’t take money from me for crashing here, but I make sure I chip in for groceries and keep my shit clean.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand. I glance at it—8:15. Time to head out for Maya’s party.

I sigh, grabbing my keys. Socializing is the last thing I want to do, but it’s Maya. She’s been the one bright spot in all this. She’s leaving, though, and I owe it to her to show up.

Caleb’s already at the party when I walk in. The place is packed— people I recognize, people I don’t. The lights are dim, and there’s a string of fairy lights zigzagging across the ceiling. The whole vibe is warm and casual, with music pumping just loud enough to make you lean in when you talk.

“Zane!” Maya calls, weaving through the crowd to hug me. She smells like whatever floral perfume she always wears.

“Hey, London girl,” I say, pulling back. “You ready for the big move?”

She grins, but there’s a touch of sadness in it. “Not really. But it’s happening, so…”

“Beer?” Caleb appears, holding out a bottle.

“Thanks.” I take it, twisting off the cap.

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