Page 67 of Pucked Up

Hugo was waiting for me at the host stand, and when I reached his side, he slid a tender hand along my jaw. “I know what you’re thinking right now.”

“You don’t.”

“I know some of it. And I’d like to talk.”

Talk. That was all we’d been doing lately, but if I was going to get any answers, it was the only option I had. “Ford will be a while.”

“Then let’s head to your room.”

It felt like a march to my death, and yet, with one foot dragging in front of the other, it also felt like my possible salvation. If I couldn’t have Hugo, maybe this moment would, at least, cure me of that want.

CHAPTER

SIXTEEN

HUGO

This was alla giant fucking mess. Micah was so oblivious to the tone of Boden’s voice that he kept digging the hole deeper, and he didn’t even realize it. I liked him, a lot. I meant what I said when I agreed to be his friend, and I was now very aware of why he had the reputation he did.

It wasn’t literal. He just had no idea the part he played in why people assumed he fucked everyone that so much as breathed near him.

It was a shame, but I couldn’t worry about that now. Every one of my dark secrets was about to come spilling out in front of Boden, but I needed to let that happen. If I let my focus wander, I’d end up taking his father into an alley somewhere and rearranging his face. I’d give him a nice little reminder of what it felt like to play a full-contact sport.

For now, I let Boden keep his pace ahead of me, and it wasn’t until the elevator that I snapped. The doors closed, and before I could stop myself, I hadhim by the front of his shirt, pinned to the elevator wall.

“My room is on the third floor,” he rasped, his pupils blown wide.

I nodded. “Alright.”

“Let me go.”

“Is that really what you want?” I asked because his tone was saying something entirely different.

He swallowed and then—barely noticeable—gave the smallest shake of his head.

So I didn’t. Not until the elevator car slowed and the speaker pinged. It took real effort to peel my hands away from his body and let him walk ahead of me. All I wanted was to feel his warm skin against mine, but considering he’d given me very clear signals he didn’t want that anymore, I needed to control myself.

“I’m sorry,” I said as he reached for his room keycard.

He turned his head back. “Didn’t catch that.”

I cleared my throat and pitched my voice a little louder. “I’m sorry. In the elevator…I didn’t mean…”

He shook his head again, cutting me off. Instead of answering, he tapped his card against the door, then pushed it open and walked in. I thought for a moment he might slam it in my face, but then he used his crutch tip to prop it open, and I forced my feet to move.

It slammed shut behind me, the sound making me jump. This was so unlike me, and I hated it.

“Are you married?” he demanded the moment we were alone.

That wasn’t the question I was expecting. I assumed Boden would have looked me up online after leaving my house the morning after he slept over. So either he really didn’t know, or he wanted me to confirm what he’d found out.

“My husband is dead.”

The way he paled told me that no, he hadn’t known. He hadn’t looked me up. Merde. What did that mean?

“Dead? Like…?”

“Dead. Buried. It was about seven years ago now.”