Page 35 of Puck Me Up

It took everything in me not to run from the house to my car. After handing Hope over to Jamie, I’d backed out of the room unnoticed by either one. And now I had to keep going, keep running, or all the shit I’d been running from was going to catch up with me. The feelings I refused to admit, even to myself, were nipping at my heels as I slammed my car door and cranked the engine.

Those stunning, stormy eyes swimming with tears. The pain on her face…

Somehow, I remembered every turn we had taken to get from Thacker’s house to Hope’s that morning. Maybe panic gave me superpowers. I didn’t even have to think about it. I reversed every turn until I was squealing into his driveway.

He answered the door in a T-shirt and boxers, looking sleepy and pissed off.

“What the fuck?”

“Nice to see you, too,” I grumbled as I pushed past him.

“You’re the guy that came here with Hope’s boyfriend,” he said.

“The very same.” I whirled around and pinned him with a burning stare. “I need to see that photo you took.”

For a second, his face was blank. Then I saw the realization dawn on him, and I felt a giddy surge of adrenaline as he went down the hall without comment to retrieve his phone. A second later, he was back, holding it out to me.

“Sorry, I had already rearranged the little shit’s face before I took it. There was another guy with him, shorter with dark hair, he turned tail and ran as soon as I knocked his buddy out.”

He kept talking, but I didn’t hear anything as I stared down at the grainy image on his phone screen.

I knew this guy. I didn’t just know him…he was one of my players. I recognized the stupid novelty jersey he’d been wearing when he came to tell me he couldn’t make the away game because he had to go to his grandfather’s funeral. And if this was the guy, I was certain I knew his dark-haired friend, too.

The world was lost to thumping rage. I had murder on my mind. I slapped the phone into Thacker’s still-outstretched hand, and then I hauled ass back to my truck.

“What are you going to do?” he called after me, but I didn’t bother answering him. I wasn’t sure. Right now, slitting his throat and watching him bleed out sounded like the best course of action, but I was hoping I’d cool down a little bit before I made it to Kane Devereaux’s dorm.

42.

Rowan

I beat on Kane’s door with my fist. My hopes of calming down had been foolish. If anything, I was angrier now than I’d ever been in my life. I could see my heart pulsing behind my eyes, turning the world red like a strobe light.

After a couple of minutes of hammering, I finally heard the deadbolt slide out of place. The door swung inward and a dark, wary eye peeked out over the inside chain lock. When Kane saw me, he tried to shove the door closed in my face but I wedged my boot between it and the jamb. Then I gave the door a hard shove inward, busting the chain off the wall and sending the shit-eating center sprawling at my feet. He lay there, curling in on himself like a cockroach stuck on its back. For a second, I let myself imagine the satisfying thud of my steel-toed boot connecting with his nose. Over and over again. But even at the height of my fury, I knew that this sniveling weasel wasn’t worth the murder charge, or the season. As much as I hated him, I had to admit that he could play. But the only thing saving him was the fact that he never got a chance to do whatever he had planned with Hope. Because if he had, the season would be the last thing on my mind. I’d pick out my orange jumpsuit with a smile, as long as I got to be the one to end him.

I crouched down over him, narrowing my eyes as he stared up at me with fear etched plainly on his face. How fast the bullies fell when confronted by someone their own size. Or, as in the case of me and Kane, six inches taller.

“Did you have fun at Copper’s last night, Kane?” I asked, imbuing every word with venom. He stared at me and said nothing. At least he knew when to keep his mouth shut to save his life. I lowered my head down until our noses were nearly touching, my eyes boring into his. “This is your one and only warning. I’ve got you figured out, and I’m watching you. You don’t look at her, you don’t think about her, you sure as fuck don’t speak to her. You don’t even breathe in her direction. Are we clear?” Kane pushed himself up to sitting and glared at me.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” he sneered, once again the arrogant asshole I knew so well.

“That's the spirit,” I said, allowing myself a menacing smile. “You better keep that energy moving forward. She doesn’t exist to you, and you damn well don’t exist to her. Pass the word on to that rat-faced moron Boomer, too.”

With that, I stood and cast him one last withering look. Then I left him on his ass on the carpet and walked out, the door’s broken chain swinging behind me.

43.

Jamie

Kane and his cronies had their heads together on the other side of the locker room, muttering about something. Every so often, one of them would throw a dark look at Rowan, who had just read the whole team the riot act. I wondered vaguely who Boomer had pissed off. He had a nasty black eye.

Practice was a nightmare. It was as if we’d never played together before, as if every player on the team had forgotten the rules of hockey or even how to tie his fucking skates.

Rowan was staring at the Kane club, his jaw tense. After a minute, he crossed to me. I looked up from packing my gym bag.

“What’s up?” I asked him, cutting my eyes at Kane.

“I might have fucked up,” he said. I stood up, frowning. I’d never seen Rowan Wilder look genuinely worried about anything outside a hockey rink, but now his brow was furrowed.

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