Page 72 of Dirty As Puck
I bite back the truth, the confession that burned on my lips. I should tell him. I almost do. But the wall is back up, higher thanever, and I can’t bear to throw my secret against it just to watch it crumble uselessly.
So, I curl against his side instead, my heart splitting open in the quiet. He wraps an arm around me automatically, but it feels different now, like he’s close yet there’s a gap between us.
We lie there, both desperate to protect the other, both too afraid to speak the words that could change everything.
And as the silence stretches, I realize we’re not just tangled in each other. We’re tangled in lies, in secrets, in a storm neither of us can hold back forever.
28
The message comes as soon as I finish practice, while I’m still lacing my shoes. My phone buzzes on the bench, and I already know who it is before I even pick it up. Derek.
I swipe the screen, my jaw tight.
Weekly payments. Non-negotiable. And you’ll start sending me updates about the reporter. Where she goes. Who she talks to. Consider it my insurance.
My chest tightens. The word reporter hangs like a blade. He doesn’t even use her name, but I can see her face in every letter, Rochelle, laughing at something I said last night, her eyes soft in a way they rarely are around anyone else.
I text back one word:No
The dots appear immediately, like he’s been waiting all damn day for my response.
Don’t play with me, Kai. You think I don’t know things? Her schedules, habits, places she likes to stop after games? I’ve heard things from your teammates when they come to the bar. Funny how the mouth gets loose when people get after a couple drinks. Funny how much I can piece together from social media. She posts more useful stuff than she realizes.
My stomach drops as I skim over the text. Derek’s not bluffing.
I can picture him leaning on that sticky bar counter, pretending to chug down a glass of whiskey while listening to my teammates chatter. He doesn’t even need to follow me around.
All he has to do is wait, and people hand him everything he needs to attack me.
I scroll up through his messages, rereading the casual way he lists Rochelle’s routines. Her coffee runs, the time she usually leaves the facility.
The fact that she walks home from the office sometimes, even when it’s late. He shouldn’t know any of that, but that bastard does anyway.
I rub a hand over my face, fighting the nausea clawing at my throat. This isn’t just about me anymore. He’s shifting his focus. He’s setting his sights on her.
“Yo, Morrison,” Alex calls from across the locker room. “You coming, man?”
“Yeah,” I mutter, shoving my phone into my bag before he can see the look on my face. My pulse is still racing.
I try to act normal as we head out, but every step I take feels heavy. It’s one thing for Derek to bleed me dry with his demands, to dangle my reputation and career over my head.
But doing that to Rochelle? No. She doesn’t belong in this.
The realization slices through me with brutal clarity. This isn’t just blackmail anymore. Derek’s planning something bigger, something that uses her as leverage.
By the time I get into my car, my hands are trembling so badly I have to grip the steering wheel just to steady them.
My brother is circling Rochelle like prey, and if I don’t find a way to stop him, he’s going to drag her into the same pit he’s been pulling me toward for years.
I don’t go straight to her place after practice. I drive around first, wasting gas and circling blocks just to rid of the panic that’s been riding me since Derek’s text.
By the time I finally knock on Rochelle’s door, I’ve rehearsed the words a dozen times. None of them sound right, but I need to say something.
She opens the door in sweats and a messy bun, eyes lighting for half a second before dimming at the look on my face. “Rough day?”
“Something like that,” I mutter, stepping inside. Her apartment smells like coffee and cinnamon. It’s grounding, and for a dangerous moment I almost tell her everything. Almost.
Instead, I shove my hands in my pockets and say, “You’ve been running yourself ragged with work. Maybe you should take some time off. Visit family. Get out of the city for a while.”
