Page 4 of The Puck Daddy

Even though he broke my heart, a part of me feels like I was the villain in our story. I wouldn’t blame him if he thought the same thing. I kept our relationship a secret, and if I hadn’t gotten injured, how long would I have been able to keep him hidden? To keepusa secret.

“Oh no.” She grabs my hand and squeezes. “You have that sad, guilty look again. You can’t keep beating yourself up!Hewas the bad guy. Not you. A good relationship is about communication. From what you’ve told me, Grant never even hinted that he was unhappy. And don’t forget about the timing of when he broke things off. He dumped you when you needed help. He dumped you when you found out you had just lost your career. He sounds like a gold digger.”

“And you sound like my therapist.”

“Yeah, well, she’s a smart lady. Like me.”

I prop a hip against the bar. Some of the weight on my shoulders lifts, and I give her a small smile. “Thanks, Kayla. It was such a dark time in my life. Sometimes I just cling to the feelings rather than remembering to think about the logic.”

“It’s why I’m in your life now.” She winks. “But you can’t keep ignoring the guy. Well, I mean you can, but for whatever reason, you refuse to block him.”

I throw my head back, already done with this conversation. “I can’t just block him. Grant’s mother is best friends with my mom. Mom loves Grant, and I can’t exactly tell her the real reason we broke up.”

“Why not? She understands why you had to keep your relationship a secret. You were constantly in the spotlight.”

I narrow my eyes at her. God, why did I have to tell my friendeverything?“Hmm, I don’t know. Maybe because she doesn’t need to hear about how I was a horrible Daddy, and Grant wanted to find someone better to take care of his needs?”

She opens her mouth to say something when the front door crashes open to a loud ruckus of chants and hollers. A swarm of Brynn U students wearing hockey jerseys and face paint storms in.

“Just like clockwork.” Thank fuck. I’ve never been happier to see the riled-up fans than I was at this moment. “Back to work.”

I grin.

Kayla narrows her eyes. She knows how much I hate this particular group. Last week, their drunken state resulted in a portion of the men’s restroom toilet missing. I mean, how the fuck do you carve out a chunk of tile from a wall and live to tell the tale?

“I don’t know why they celebrate here when most of the hockey players are partying at Delfy House. The team rarely shows up here. Not that I can complain too much, since theyarethe ones paying our bills.”

The Brynn U Ice Dragons won their game tonight, which means it’s time for the fans to celebrate. Despite its size, Brynn, California, is still a popular college town that treats the hockey and football teams like mini-celebrities. Like royalty ruling this town.

The same suspects rush over toward the bar while the others in their group make their way to their usual tables.

“It’s the pregame,” I reply.

“Huh?”

“The pregame to the main event. They have fun and get drunk here while the hockey team finishes showering, doing their post-game interviews, and whatever the hell else they need to do before celebrating with their fans.”

The leader of the group is a muscular blond guy who swaggers toward me like a male peacock showing off for the women who giggle and stare after him. “Hey man,” he says as he reaches me. “Can I get a few pints for my friends over there?” Mr. Cocky points at his table.

“Sure thing. Just tell your friends to have their wristbands visible and ready. Things will go a lot faster that way.”

He scoffs. “They already checked our IDs at the door, man. Doesn’t this get old?”

“Nope. Not one bit. I’m not gonna sit here and memorize every face. It only takes a few seconds to roll up a sleeve or take off a jacket. It’s that or we can skip the alcohol altogether.”

Mr. Cocky rolls his eyes. “Yeah, sure. Whatever, Dad.”

I chuckle.You have no idea, bud.

***

As the night goes on, more and more fans trickle in until we are so busy I feel like I’m a chicken running around with its head cut off. I’m checking wristbands left and right, sliding drink afterdrink across the bar, and constantly running to the back to refill our ice station. “Note to self,” I yell toward Kayla as I rush over with a new bucket of ice. “We are definitely going to have to talk to the big boss man about getting us an ice machine here at the bar if the crowds are going to get like this during the weekends.”

She laughs. “Yeah, good luck with that shit. I’ve been begging for an ice machine for two years now. Just wait till playoffs.”

I groan.

At one point, Mr. Cocky shouts over the crowd and announces the party will commence over at the Delfy House. Never before have I been so thankful to see the bar clear out. Screw the tips. I’m so damn tired and just need a fucking breather.

---