Page 93 of No Pucks

“I know.” I rub a hand down his back.

“We need to go. I want to get the fuck out of this arena.” He doesn’t bother to shower, just putting his clothes back on.

“Come to my room later?”

“I’ll have to see what the guys are doing first.”

Selfishly, I hate that he needs to do that, and suddenly, I’m torn between what I know he needs and what I know will be better for him.

TWENTY-NINE

LOGAN

Iheld it together in front of Anthony, but I sink to a seat as soon as he leaves. I put my head in my hands and just breathe. I can’t win when it comes to my father, and I don’t understand why I fucking care. I’ve played better this season than I have my entire life, and he’s still an asshole. The most fucked up thing is, I know in my bones I’ll never play well enough for him. It doesn’t matter what I accomplish, and I’ve always known it.

All his actions since their break up have been revenge. It’s so clear now. He only tried to coach for the Gods to make my life miserable, and when that didn’t work, he found a better way.

I set myself up for this. If I never told my mother about him cheating, they’d still be together, and he wouldn’t be on a revenge path trying to make my life miserable and, through me, Anthony’s.

What if he finds out about us? I know him. He will do everything he can to make Anthony pay. He’d torture Anthony just to cause me pain. I know who my father is, which means every minute I continue to spend with Anthony makes me a ticking time bomb. Does he deserve that?

But Anthony is worth it. He makes me feel, something no one else does.

It’s like playing hockey. When I’m on the ice, my life feels like it’s my own. I’m in control of how I play, in control of my interaction with people. It’s on my shoulders. And when I’m off, nothing is in my control. Everything revolves around my parents and their whims.

Being with Anthony feels outside of them. He’s not in their world. Even if he is in hockey, he’s not under their influence. Anthony doesn’t care what my father thinks. In fact, he hates my father, so he’s not going to do anything that bastard wants.

“You coming?” Ridgeway stands in front of me. I didn’t notice him come in.

I blink and force myself to my feet to shove the rest of my shit in my bag. I only meant to sit down for a minute. How long had it been? Had Anthony sent someone in here to look for me? I feel like an idiot. “Yeah. I must have lost track of time. I’m out of it.”

Ridgeway looks me over, clearly not convinced. “You okay?”

I nod. “I am. My dad here, coaching, and then accosting me after the game wasn’t what I was expecting.”

“Come on. We all need a drink.” He offers me a hand.

I take it and let him pull me to my feet.

We get back to the hotel and go to the team meal. Once that’s finished, the guys are chatting about where to get drinks.

“I’m going to grab a shower. Can someone text me what you all decide?” I say, dumping my plate in the garbage.

“Will do.” Wolfe shoots me finger guns.

At least this buys me some fucking alone time. I just want to decompress in a hot shower for the next hour. I turn the hotel one on as hot as it can go and wait for it to heat. When it’s steamed up half the bathroom, I get in, adjusting the temp so it’s not quite hot enough to burn my skin off but hot enough to sear off all my recent memories.

I let it soak into my skin, closing my eyes.

The shower curtain pulls back, making me jump. “What the fuck?”

Anthony’s lips pull at the hint of a smile. He devours my naked body with his gaze, and I harden. “You took too long.”

I look at my imaginary watch. “I haven’t gone out with the team yet.”

“Why’d you come to your room at all?”

“I figured you’d want me clean.” I rub the soapy washcloth over my abs as my heart rate slows. I don’t want to tell him I needed some alone time. No one takes that well.

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