Page 71 of First Puck

He slipped his hand into mine, quickly shooting up from the seat and tugging me away from the table.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to plunge myself into the group of excited hockey players when my head was still spinning with Brad’s words.

“I bet if we beat these guys tonight, we’ll win tomorrow.”

I was already laughing at his enthusiasm. With one sentence he flipped the mood, but I didn’t know if that was a good thing.

“Lance, you’re so shit at pool, they’re going to slaughter you.”“Well! That’s never stopped me before, right?”

Alex

Lance won exactly zero games the whole hour we played. It was enough that I actually felt embarrassed for him, but he loved it. People were placing bets on him losing within twenty minutes, and he’d just lost his fourth game when my phone pinged with a text.

I stepped back from my space next to Lance, and someone easily moved in to fill it. The whole pool table was surrounded, and no one missed me.

Brad’s name flashed up on the screen as I pulled it out of my back pocket. I really didn’t want to see what he had to say. Hecould have come down to the bar to find me, tried to apologize, or even just pretend nothing had happened and played pool with the rest of us.

I unlocked my phone, and my eyes widened instantly at his text.

911—hurry.

I’d only left him an hour ago, what could he have done since then?

But what was the point of ask how badly he could have fucked up in the space of an hour? It was Brad.

What’s wrong? What’s happened?

My heart rate spiked as I clutched my phone desperately.

It might just be nothing. He could just feel guilty about how we left things, so he was being a selfish asshole again.

It’s seriously bad. You’ve got to come back ASAP.

“What is it?” Lance’s soft breath brushed over my cheek as he leaned in close. “Is something the matter?”

I looked at him, meeting his patient smile.

“I think I have to go,” I croaked, worry staining my voice.

He glanced at my phone, my knuckles white around the solid plastic case.

“Is it Brad?” Lance asked quietly, his face hardening.

“Yeah, I just… He wouldn’t message me like this, you know? Even if we were fighting, he wouldn’t do something like this.”

“You know him best,” Lance said carefully, looking at the phone again. “Just don’t get too wrapped up, yeah? After the grand speech you gave me about not wanting to get hurt, you can’t let me down.”

“I can’t promise you anything,” I said, sighing heavily. I’d already let Brad beat me emotionally, and I had no idea what was waiting for me in our room.

Lance patted me on the shoulder, giving a fake, mournful sigh. “Just text me if you need me. I'll be waiting for you like the patient dog I am,” he said, loud enough to be picked by the others.

“You never miss a chance, do you?” I asked under my breath, and he smirked a reply.

I gave him a sharp nod before I shot out of the hotel bar, running full speed to make it back to our room.

If Brad was injured or sick, or even if something had happened to his family, I don’t know what I’d do. But I had to be there for him. No matter how upset I was that things didn’t go the way I had been dreaming about, all this was still my fault.

If I hadn’t listened to Lance, if I hadn’t pushed Brad, if I hadn’t kept praying there was something more than just friendship there for him, then we wouldn’t have argued in the first place.

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