Page 51 of Dear #47, You're the Worst
Why is it so hot when Hunter acts like a fucking caveman?
Between periods, I scroll through the latest Havoc press clippings on my phone. The team’s trending, but not positively. Headlines use words like chaotic, penalty-heavy, and raw talent without a leash. One photo shows Hunter snarling at Patrick just before he checked him.
It was hot, but it’s not exactly making Hunter seem even-keeled. I sigh.
After the game, which the Havoc win by two goals, I’m waiting outside the locker room. Jessa and Ivy are busy working. I’m propped against the wall, anticipation mounting. I know what’s coming.
It’s only a matter of time before Patrick makes his grand appearance. There’s no avoiding him. If he doesn’t get to make me miserable now, he might show up at my door in the Sinclair. I put nothing past him, the fucking asshole.
“Juliet.” The sound of my name on Patrick’s lips is like being doused with a bucket of ice water. I whirl, eyeing him.
He’s still in his gear, helmet tucked under his arm, looking exactly the same as he did when I left him six months ago. He shakes his sweaty blond hair out, a grin on his face, and he swaggers up to me like he has every right to be here.
Fucking asshole.
“Patrick.” I shift and try to make it appear my heart isn’t galloping a million miles an hour. “Ohgood, you’re here. I was just saying this hallway wasn’t insufferable enough.”
“Still snarky as always.” He cocks his head at me, taking me in. “We need to talk.”
“No, we don’t.” I try to push past him, but he blocks my way.
“This whole thing with Huxley is embarrassing. You’re making yourself look desperate.”
“If I’m desperate, what does that make the guy who’s trapped his ex-girlfriend in a hallway?” I try to push him away, shuddering at having to actually touch him. “Get away from me, Patrick.”
“I’m trying to help you,” he continues, getting closer. “Everyone can see what you’re doing. Using him for his money, his fame. It’s pathetic.”
My stomach lurches. I don’t believe a word out of Patrick’s lying mouth. But the thought that other people might see me as a user makes my heart stutter.
Is that what people think?
That’s when Hunter appears from the locker room. He’s still in his gear, but only half of it. Shoulder pads peeled off and dangling from one arm, chest damp with sweat beneath the thin compression shirt he never changed out of. His gloves are gone, exposing calloused hands and taped wrists, and his hockey pants hang low on his hips like they’re only staying up out of spite. His dark blond hair is damp and curling at the edges.
Silas and Jett are right behind him, flanking him like bodyguards, looking like two slightly smudged photocopies of the same big, angry man.
The temperature in the hallway drops about twenty degrees.
“Get the fuck away from her,” Hunter growls. “Come here, Juliet.”
He lifts his arm, and I flee to him like a stream to the ocean. Never in my life have I been so glad that I had someone bigger and far meaner in my corner. Hunter tucks me into his side, never breaking eye contact with my ex.
Before Patrick can respond, Coach Ryan cuts through the crowd. Ryan grabs Hunter’s free arm, but his eyes lock on Patrick.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Ryan asks, his voice carrying absolute authority. “No onecomes into my arena, into an area that’s off-limits to non-Havoc personnel, and corners a woman who clearly doesn’t want to talk to him.”
He takes a step toward Patrick, who suddenly looks a lot less confident. He licks his lips, his lizard brain trying to come up with an excuse.
“This is a private matter between Juliet and myself.”
“You want to start a fight with me instead?” Ryan asks. He steps up, bristling. He’s got serious fuck around and find out energy going on right now. “Because I’d be happy to accommodate you.”
An assistant coach from Houston’s team walks by right then. Ryan calls out to him. “Hey, Martinez. Collect your player before he gets himself arrested for harassment.”
The coach’s eyes bug out when he sees the situation. He grabs Patrick by the arm and starts dragging him away.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” I hear him hissing as they disappear down the hallway.
Silas and Jett head back into the locker room and Coach Ryan follows them.
