Page 39 of Absolutely Pucked
“Fucker,” Jonah said, swinging his stick and missing. He was puffy and round with his pads and made his wobbly way toward the net as I followed behind toscoop up the bucket full of pucks. His head turned, following the sound as he settled between the pipes and stretched his legs into a full split.
“Alright. For every goal I stop, you have to tell me one fact about why you’re all fucked-up. For every goal you make?—”
“I’m not playing this game,” I said quickly. The fucker was too good at his position, and he was a professional player, so I didn’t get even a quarter of the ice time he did.
“It’s either this, or I follow you into the locker room and sit my butthole directly on your face until you talk.”
“Why are you the worst person literally in the world?” I demanded, dumping the pucks onto the ice, then swiveling my sled sideways so I could line up a decent shot.
He grinned behind his mask. “You’d love me less if I was different.”
I hated that he wasn’t lying. “I will tell you one thing if you can get a shutout with three rounds.”
Jonah’s confident grin told me this was a losing bet. And while I wouldn’t tell him who was in my apartment and why, I didn’t hate the idea that I might have someone to talk to about this. It was sitting on my chest like a heavy weight, and though I planned to do my absolute best to get at least one goal, I wasn’t going to hate it if he won.
And he won. Of fucking course he won.
His smug smile as he followed me into the locker room was annoying as hell, but I couldn’t stay too mad at him. The way he grinned with his hair stuck up all over the place from helmet sweat would have softened me. He was like the baby brother I’d always wanted. The imaginary brother who never existed, who probably would have hated me if my mom had crapped out a boy instead of a bunch of tow-headed little girls in her exact image.
With her exact attitude.
“Alright,” Jonah said as we stretched out on the benches near my locker. The community league locker room wasn’t as nice as the stadium’s, but Jonah seemed just as at home here as he did at his own arena. He carefully began to stow his gear in his bag as I grabbed my deodorant and tried to combat the sweat stench from practice. “Spill your guts.”
Bowing my head, I stared down at my foot, digging my toes into the rubber mat beneath the bench. “I met someone.”
Jonah straightened. “Shut your whore mouth.”
“Yeah. We hooked up about a month ago. I met him at a club. We ordered food and had a little thing.”
Jonah put his hand over his crotch. “He had a little thing?”
“Wehad a little thing. He had a decent-sized, youknow,thing,” I confessed. “Felt it all the way through the next day.” Definitely not a lie. Killian had fucked me better than anyone ever had. “He snuck out on me while I was asleep.”
“Oh, ew.” He wrinkled his nose as he pulled his shirt over his head and then adjusted his prosthetics so they were pointed straight instead of looking in opposite directions. “That’s a dick move.”
“We had an agreement,” I admitted. “It was just supposed to be a one-night sort of deal.”
“And now you’re pining?”
“No,” I snapped, sounding like a sullen teenager. I took a breath and shrugged. “I was doing fine, but then he had to go and show back up in town, and now it’s…he’s…” Was I supposed to tell Jonah that it was actually Killian? That he was homeless and staying in my guest room? There was a huge chance he was going to tell my friends and say it was for my own good.
“Tell me he’s not being an ass to you.”
“No. More like…I’m being an ass to him. And I should tell him to get fucked for what he did, but I can’t seem to help how much I want this guy.” The truth was bitter on my tongue. It was a betrayal against Tucker in the worst way. I was avoiding him too, and he hadn’t noticed because he was so wrapped up in Amedeo, but eventually, he’d realize I was keeping my distance, and then I was fucked.
Jonah spun on the bench to face me. “You like this guy, eh?”
“I shouldn’t, but yes.”
“Is he a murderer?”
“Uh…no?”
“Serial puppy kicker?”
I grimaced. “I don’t…think so.”
“Does he hate cats?”
