Page 48 of The Puck Player

“Thanks, Dad.”

We all watch her leave before Coach focuses back on me. “That kid’s face was a fucking mess,” he declares, and I gleam at the sick satisfaction of that knowledge, especially when his eyes flick down and take in the evidence on my fists. “Am I going to be hearing anymore from this?” he asks, and I shake my head.

“Already alerted my lawyer just in case, it’s under control,” I tell him honestly, not sure the slimy little fuck has enough backbone to call the police, but you can never be too careful.

“Well, okay then,” he nods, releasing me and stepping back, eyeing Archer and Daemon with an intense glare, just as Nova walks in and looks between us and fucking sighs.

Aubree appears in the next second, completely ready to go. “Thanks guys,” she says softly, trying not to look at me for too long, and I can tell she wants to say more, but her dad is already leading her away.

“Cap, make sure your goalie ices his hands before practice,” he tosses over his shoulder.

“Yes Sir,” Nova replies in that no bullshit tone of his, and then none of us say a word until we hear the slam of the front door, followed by silence. “You are well and truly fucked, brother,” Nova sighs, slapping me on the back, and all I can do is nod.

Yes. Yes I am.

It’s safe to say that my entire weekend was a shit show. From Ben showing up unannounced, to Alexander hitting him, to my dad finding me at the hockey house, all of it a giant clusterfuck I wish I could undo, well mostly all of it. I wouldn’t change the breakup, or the sleeping in the hot hockey goalie’s bed, but the finding out the boyfriend had been fucking my best friend, and my dad finding me in one of his player’s hockey jerseys? Yeah, that I could have gone without. Evie thought the whole thing was hilarious when I told her, offering no sympathy at all, calling both Ben and Malorie a very colorful collection of names I couldn’t possibly repeat.

Which brings me to my ex-boyfriend and ex-best friend. Ben started blowing up my phone not long after I left Alexander’s house with my dad. It was call after call, all of which wentunanswered, followed by a barrage of text messages ranging in pleas to hear him out, apologies for what he’s done, and blaming me for him having to go elsewhere for sex. It would all be laughable if I didn’t feel so betrayed, and he isn’t even the one I feel the deepest cut from.

I didn’t hear from my so-called best friend until Sunday afternoon, and even when I did, it was just a two word text message.I’m sorry. That’s it, that’s all it said. After over a decade of friendship, seeing each other through everything, all she had to say in response to me finding out she fucked Ben, and fucked me over, was I’m sorry. That was the point that I blocked them both, because it was in that moment that I realized just how little they truly cared about me. I’ll miss what I thought we had, but I won’t miss them, not when I have more pressing issues to deal with.

My dad was pissed after he found out what happened with Ben, but I’m pretty sure he was more pissed that I found solace in the form of his players. He cursed every single one of them out on the drive back to my apartment, and from what Jake told Evie, he had them practicing for nearly four hours on Saturday. I cringed a little at that, wanting to reach out to Alexander and apologize again, but I guessed he was probably pissed at me too since finding out who my dad is. I should have told him, I know that, but I didn’t mean for what started as a little joke to turn into this. Well, I didn’t mean for a lot of things to happen I guess, but here we are.

I haven’t spoken to Alexander since I was escorted from his house on Saturday morning, and even though I reached for my phone at least a hundred times over the weekend, I couldn’t bring myself to call him. Which is how I find myself nervously heading over to Hockey Row on Monday afternoon for our usual tutoring session. I can only presume it’s still on, since I haven’t heard otherwise from him, and butterflies are running rampantinside of me, as I reach the front porch of his house and knock on the door.

Only a few seconds pass before the door swings open, revealing a somewhat panting and shirtless Archer, but he smiles a genuine smile as soon as he sees it’s me. “Ah, the troublemaker returns to the scene of the crime,” he jokes, gesturing for me to come inside, and when I do, I spot Daemon sitting back on the sofa with his shirt half-open and his hair all messed up, as if Archer has been pulling on it. Quickly averting my eyes, I glance back to Archer, who just smirks knowingly, before nodding his head toward the stairs. “Prince Charming is upstairs, jerking off before you arrive,” he teases with a wink, and I’m not sure if he’s totally kidding. I hesitate a little and he laughs. “Relax, Bree, I’m just joking.” He rolls his eyes like I am the ridiculous one here, and I can’t help but smile as I make my way toward the stairs, more than used to being here now. “Don’t be alarmed if you see a giant python though, that’s just his cock,” he calls out to my back, as Alexander appears at the top of the stairs, and my blush is instant.

“Did he just refer to my cock as a giant python?” Alexander asks in amusement, totally not phased by the weirdness of his teammate.

“Yep,” I sigh, popping the P, not bothering to stop, as I push past him and head into his room.

I try not to let the memories of Friday night rush to the forefront of my mind, but my eyes flick between the bed and the carpet. The latter has been cleaned up, no evidence any blood was ever spilled there, and his bed looks as neat and tidy as it always is, except now I know what it feels like to sleep in it. I once again quickly avert my gaze, moving straight to his desk to set up. Alexander already has his laptop open on our agenda for today, with a few books pulled out to help me. So, I dump my bag to the floor, pull out my own stuff, and get to work.

I can feel Alexander's lingering stare, but I don’t ask him to stop like I usually would, instead remaining laser focused on the work in front of me, but of course that isn’t good enough for the arrogant asshole.

“So, a six-foot-five Navy SEAL, huh?” he begins, nothing but delight in his tone as he tosses my description of my dad back at me, and I cringe a little, turning to meet his stare. “Do you have any idea how many drills your dad had us run on Saturday? I’m still struggling to walk,” he complains with a groan, as he jumps up onto his bed, and I can’t hide my grin. “Oh, she thinks it’s funny, I’m glad my pain is amusing to you, Miss Callows,” he laughs, rolling his eyes. “Why the fuck didn’t you warn me you were Coach’s daughter?” he asks, more serious now, and I can’t help but feel there is a certain hidden undertone to his question.

I mean, why would it matter?

“In my defense, the rest of the team didn’t tell you either,” I reply, ignoring the hope that flares inside my chest at his question.

“Yeah, they really fucked me on that one,” he grumbles under his breath, before he sits up and clears his throat. “What about you? Are you good? You know, after everything,” he gently probes, and I nod with a sad smile.

“I’m okay, onward and upward, right?” I reply brightly, feigning happiness I definitely don’t feel, and Alexander nods.

“Right,” he agrees, looking like he wants to say more, but doesn’t, and I find myself wishing that for once I could read his mind. “Speaking of, my mother wants me to bring you to her birthday dinner in a couple of weeks,” he announces casually, and my eyes practically bug out of my head.

“What?” I ask, sure I misheard him, and he smiles playfully, as he slides off his bed, moving to grab his phone. Tapping away on it, he finds whatever it is he is looking for and then turns it so I can see.

Mum - Annual reminder that under no circumstances are you allowed to miss your mother’s birthday, not even if you’re dead or in jail

Mum - Oh and bring that beautiful friend of yours, Aubree, I want to meet her.

My brain feels like it short circuits as I read her words. She wants to meet me. Sinclair Striker wants to meet me.

“Why the hell would she want me at her birthday dinner?” I gasp in wonder, not really looking for an answer, but Alexander smiles anyway.

“I’m guessing because she has brunch with our lawyer, Jeremy, on Monday mornings, to go over any issues that may have arisen,” he states firmly, and embarrassment sets my cheek aflame.

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