Page 52 of Puck Struck
"I'm handling it."
"Obviously." She stands, heading back toward the hallway. "I’m going back to bed. Just remember, you've got people who depend on you. People who need you in one piece, not in jail."
Guilt gnaws at my insides. "How's Ethan doing?"
She shrugs. "He was better today. But his energy's still low. The doctor emailed. She wants to run more tests."
"When?"
"Friday. So whatever crusade you're on, please wrap it up by then?"
When she's gone, I hunch over, catching my head in my hands. This thing with Cam, with James, it's a distraction I can't afford. Not with Ethan's health in question. Not with my shoulder one bad hit away from ending my career.
Tessa’s right. As fucking always.
But I can't just walk away, either.
I send Cam a text before I can overthink it.
We need to talk. Tomorrow after practice. My place.
The response comes instantly, like he's been waiting.Something tells me he’s been hoping for a lot more than I can give him right now.
Okay. Address?
I send the address with another message.
Don't do anything about James until then.
Wasn't planning to.
I'm not sure I believe him. But it's the best I can do for now.
Morning comes too quickly. I'm stiff from falling asleep on the couch, my shoulder barking when I reach for my phone. Two missed calls from an unknown number and a text flash across my screen.
You're harder to find than I expected, Shaw. Let's talk about Connor. You have something I want. I have something you don't want anyone to see.
My blood runs cold. Fuck my life.
James. It has to be him. Buthow?
I block the number without responding, but it doesn't ease the knot in my gut. He's getting bolder, taking chances. And now he's dragging me further into whatever sick game he's playing with Cam.
I go through the motions at practice in a fog, my thoughts on an endless loop. I keep my distance from Cam, avoiding the curious looks from my teammates. Carter pulls me aside as we're leaving the ice.
"Hey, everything okay with your friend?"
"Fine," I say quickly.
"You sure? Because you don’t look even remotely close tofine."
"Thanks."
He sighs. "Whatever it is, don't do it alone."
"I'm handling it."
"Right." He claps a hand on my good shoulder. "Good talk."
