Page 69 of Puck You Very Much

As she was thinking about remaining there forever, he released her.

“Let’s go,” he said, clearing his throat and looking away. “I’ll take you home.”

Chapter 20

Lucy should never have to cry. Obviously she was capable of crying, but he hated that she needed to.

That was what Dax thought as the city lights flew by, making colorful streaks through the windows in contrast to the dark night. A person as strong as Lucy should never look like her heart was breaking. Like she was failing. She should never have to stand before him, sniffling and with a quivering lip that took his breath away.

Seeing her like that, without being able to say anything that would make things better, was torture. He knew how powerless one was against the stubbornness of one’s parents. He had begged his mother for years to leave his father, but she hadn’t wanted to hear it.He needs me, Dax. He needs me.

It didn’t matter that her children needed her more.

And Lucy’s father, still deeply bogged down in grief after three years… Dax knew how that must weigh on her. Every day. He hated her father for doing that to her. If he could, he would drag him to the psychologist himself and force him with his own hands to sit on the couch and listen.

But he couldn’t. He had no right. Lucy’s life was her life, not his. He played no part in it.

He detested that thought.

He exited the highway, following the GPS directions to Lucy’s apartment, before recalling her words in the Ice Lounge.

She liked a man who was honest. Someone who told her what he thought and wanted.

The car’s tires squealed as he stopped in front of a white, modern-looking apartment building that, according to the GPS, was Lucy’s home. He had never thought about where she lived, but now that seemed silly. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to know what her apartment looked like, how she lived, what photos she had on the walls, and whether her furniture was simple or fancy.

He would bet on fancy.

“Thanks, Dax,” she murmured, wringing her hands in her lap. “For everything.”

“Sure,” he remarked, turning off the engine and opening the door.

“Um, you don’t have to get out, Dax,” she said, confused.

Yes, he did.

He slammed the door behind him as Lucy also exited the car.

“You don’t have to walk me to the door. I’m just a little emotionally fragile, not an invalid,” she explained softly, clasping her hands behind her back.

She stared at his chin—as if she was unable to see any higher—as if she couldn’t bear to look him in the eye.

“I didn’t get out because I think you need help to the door,” he clarified.

“Oh, okay.” She frowned and glanced up, uncertain. “Then why?”

Yes, why?

Because he had to say something. Because he had to be honest. Because things couldn’t go on this way. But the uncertainty on her face was mirrored in his own chest and he didn’t know what words to use. Would he destroy what was still intact between them if he said something?

“Dax?” she whispered. “I’m sorry I threatened you. In the office. I wouldn’t reveal your secrets. You know that, I… God, you have me so confused, and…the job is all I have, Dax. It’s everything I’ve always wanted.”

“I understand,” he replied curtly. Because he did. Playing hockey was all he ever wanted: to make money, to live and breathe the game, to be on the ice.

Until now.

“By the way, I think it’s great that you’re not playing like shit anymore,” she continued, probably because she was uncomfortable with the silence between them.

But he needed the silence to think.

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