Page 30 of Puck Around and Find Out

“Wait, I’m sorry,” Boss said, snagging my wrist. “I didn’t mean to worry you. I won’t say anything, and I’m sure Rain will keep his mouth shut.”

“Rain never keeps his mouth shut. He’s physically fucking incapable.” I yanked my hand away. “Eventually it will get around. Fuck, maybe that was his whole plan all along.”

“Whose plan?” Boss looked genuinely confused now. “Rain isn’t that kind of guy. I mean, he liked what he saw, sure, and he was looking where he wasn’t invited, but I don’t think he would spread it around.”

“You don’t get it.”

“Then talk to me,” Boss said, smiling. “We’re on the same team and we’re friends. This will be fine.”

I opened my mouth, and Wy and a few of the guys came around the side of the building from the small alleyway that led around the back to the parking lot. Instead of waiting in the line like we had, they went directly to the front.

“This is the captain of the Polar Storms, and we just fucking won for New Gothenburg tonight!” Nikolai said at top volume. He already sounded half drunk. The people in line clapped and cheered, and the men letting patrons into the club allowed them to go in. My blood boiled.

“Yeah, we’re all on the same team,” I snapped.

“Wait,” Boss called as I stomped out of the line, then back along the narrow alley between brick buildings to my car. I spotted Dad’s Lamborghini, sitting in the far end of the lot, and acid crawled through my veins. Why did Wy get to drive it? Why did Wy get to just tell people he was gay and have it be fine? Have Declan, the fucking golden god of New Gothenburg hockey, smile at him and talk to him about being out in the league? Why was that okay, and me doing literally anything—good or bad—was a fuckup? And why did my own fucking father like him more? How did he make that happen?

Rage I hadn’t ever felt popped in my veins, and as I walked over to the car it finally hit me. Maybe I was pissed off about Wy getting to be captain, but IhatedDad.

I hated the way he treated me.

I hated the way he told other people they were amazing.

I fucking hated him.

It started with my foot denting in the driver-side door. The alarm went off, but I didn’t run. I spotted a broken-off corner of a cement parking barrier, and I picked it up. I dropped the small boulder on the windshield like a bomb. Voices came through the alleyway, maybe someone checking on the alarm.

I wanted Wy off my team.

And I also wanted him out of my house.

But maybe I wanted to get away, too.

I was so fucking sick of this.

10

WYSTAN

The continuous slapson the back made me grin so wide that my face was beginning to hurt worse than my side.

After I’d been slammed into the boards, getting up was easy, but pretending I was fine wasn’t. I hadn’t wanted to give Fairborn, the Bayou Blades’ player, the satisfaction of knowing he’d hit me hard enough that it hurt. He was well-known in the league for being a bulldozer, and if we’d had more time, I had no doubt our own violent enforcer, Miloševic, would’ve returned the favor once Coach swapped him out with one of the other defensemen he had on the ice. We’d won, and I was proud of the effort I’d put in; although, I felt like I hadn’t worked hard enough for the victory.

An acid feeling settled heavy in the pit of my stomach, and forcing a smile was taking more energy than I’d expected. Thane was at my side, feeding my ego by continually telling me what a great job I’d done as captain, but it didn’t seem that way.

Atlas had done more than me.

“Here.” Thane shoved a beer in my direction.

I shook my head. “Thanks. This is the only one I’m drinking.” Rémi had given me a double dose of ibuprofen to help with the pain that I’d admitted I had. I knew he would go back and tell Coach Hill, but we didn’t have a game until next weekend.

“We’ve got to celebrate. It’s our first game and first win.” Thane nudged his shoulder against mine and grinned widely. He wore a simple long-sleeved black shirt and jeans, but he looked good enough that I noticed a few guys and girls checking him out. I didn’t blame them, though I didn’t think he was as sexy as Atlas.

I glanced around, searching for the familiar face, but I came up with nothing. It was difficult to see very far in the dim blue-and-purple lighting. Atlas wasn’t here. I drummed my hands on the wooden bar. What my gaze did land on was the Bayou Blade who’d stopped and talked with me after the game, apologizing for Fairborn’s actions and checking if I was okay. I thought his name was Hadeon Bayuk, and he had a strong Eastern European accent. Ukrainian, if I remembered my research about his team correctly.

He smiled at me as he snuck his way through the crowd, which wasn’t easy because he was bigger than Atlas, before finally stopping right in front of where I sat at the bar. With short sandy blond hair, the deepest blue eyes I’d ever seen, and a crooked smile, Bayuk was hot. But after the way Atlas had fucked me earlier in the showers, Bayuk wasn’t sexy enough to make me consider going home with him. I couldn’t take my mind off the asshole and the way he’d held me as though I’d weighed nothing, and how he’d fucked me perfectly rough as the water pounded down on us.

“Hey.”

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