Page 30 of Exes That Puck (The Honey Badger Puckers #4)

I was trying to have an early night, but that drunk call from Kara has me completely wired. I pace my room for ten minutes, trying to figure out what the hell I’m supposed to do.

My sister’s at Elly’s place. Brianne’s gone back home. Scott’s crashed on the couch, but he’s a complete idiot who’d probably make things worse. Westley’s never had a serious girlfriend as far as I know, so his advice would be useless.

I knock on Dylan’s door. No answer. I crack it open, but he’s not even here.

Fuck it.

I throw on a hoodie and grab my keys. First stop is the karaoke bar, then The Lounge, then the dive bar near campus that stays open late. I go in and out of each one, asking bartenders if they’ve seen a brunette about five-foot-six, probably drunk and pissed off.

At the third place, the guy behind the bar nods. “Yeah, she was here with a blonde girl. Left maybe an hour ago.”

I drive straight to her dorm, taking the stairs two at a time. The RA lets me up without question, apparently my face shows exactly how desperate I am.

I pound on Kara’s door until it opens. But it’s just Payton, scowling at me.

“Where’s Kara?” I ask.

“You can’t just barge in here,” she snaps.

“I can,” I say. “As a matter of fact, they let me in the building. Now where is she?”

She shrugs. “Why the hell would I know? You’re the one screwing her.”

“What’s your problem, Payton?”

She rolls her eyes. “My problem is you! You keep your claws so tight in Kara that she can’t let you go. She destroys everything in her life for you, and you just take it for granted.”

“She told you about Brianne?” The words slip out before I can stop them. “Whatever she said, it’s not true.”

Payton’s laugh is cold and knowing. “She didn’t tell me anything about Brianne, but this is making much more sense now. What did you do with Brianne?”

Shit. I just outed myself. “I didn’t do anything.”

“That explains why she was being such a bitch earlier. Word of advice, Zeke—you guys are broken up. Stop fucking her, stop messing with her feelings, and leave her alone so she can move on.”

I shake my head. “You wouldn’t understand. Do you have Find My Friends with her or whatever? I need to know where she is.”

“I’m not telling you where she is. She and I aren’t even friends anymore, thanks to you.”

“What do you mean you’re not friends?”

“We had a massive fight because she’s so fucked up over you that she can’t see straight. So congratulations, you’ve officially destroyed her relationship with everyone who cares about her.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. “If she comes back, tell her to call me. And if she won’t, at least text me that she’s okay.”

“I am not texting you shit. Now get out.”

I storm out, pissed off that she’s not here.

I get into my truck and hit the steering wheel.

God fucking damn it. I sit in my truck and realize I have no idea where else to look.

Outside of our relationship, Kara doesn’t have that many people.

Lola, maybe, but I don’t have her number, and I don’t know where she lives.

The thought hits me that Payton might have been her only real friend, and now that’s gone too.

I drive home, my chest tight with the realization that I might have just isolated her completely.

I call Kara over and over until her phone starts going straight to voicemail after one ring. She blocked me.

Perfect. I hit the steering wheel.

Fuck!

The next morning I wake up hoping for a message from Kara, but there’s no notifications on my phone and nothing on social media. I roll over, staring at the ceiling, wondering if she’s safe or if she spent the night doing something stupid out of spite.

On the team bus, the guys are in their usual good mood—joking around, chirping each other, loose before the game. I wish I could tap into that energy, but with everything going on in my head, it’s impossible.

“You good?” Dylan asks, sliding into the seat next to me.

“Yeah.”

“You sure? You look like hell.”

“I’m fine. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Scott says, “Probably something to do with trying to hook up with Brianne and Kara catching them.”

Dylan looks over at him while Westley hits Scott in the chest.

“If you’re going to live with us, we have fucking house rules, bro,” Dylan says.

Westley nods.

Dylan continues, “What goes on in the house stays between us.”

Scott raises his hands. “Damn. Understood.”

During warm-ups, I try to shake off the anxiety, but it’s like a weight on my chest. Every time I think about what tonight is—the night Kara’s supposed to meet Josh—my skating gets sloppier.

When the game starts, I channel all that rage and frustration into my play. I’m hitting everything that moves, taking risks I shouldn’t take, playing angry instead of smart.

In the second period, some asshole from the opposing team catches me with my head down and drives me straight into the boards. I go down hard, the wind knocked out of me, stars exploding behind my eyes.

I lay on the ice for a moment, trying to catch my breath. Tonight. She’s with him tonight, and I can’t think straight.

Scott skates over and helps me up. “I got your back, man.”

I nod and skate to the bench, every muscle in my body screaming with frustration that has nothing to do with hockey.

We win, but barely. The bus ride home feels endless. I’d assumed we were staying overnight, so when Coach announces we’re driving straight back, I’m almost relieved. At least I’ll be in the same state as her.

When we finally get back to the house, we’re all beat and tired. I throw my gear in my room and head straight for the front door because I can’t sit around knowing that she’s out there about to fuck some guy named Josh Sampers for crying out loud.

“Where are you going?” Dylan asks when he sees me fully dressed.

“Out,” I answer, and he stands from the kitchen table.

“Where? It’s late.”

I shake my head. “I told her to fuck her date tonight. And I kind of change my mind, bro.”

Dylan blocks my path. “You can’t control her, man.”

“You don’t understand. I fucked up.”

“She’s going to do whatever she’s going to do.”

“Because I convinced her to!” My voice cracks with exhaustion and guilt. “I said some stupid ass shit I shouldn’t have said, and now I need to go take it back.”

Dylan shakes his head and physically steers me back toward my room. “I’m not letting you go anywhere. Not tonight. You need to cool off.”

“Dylan,” I warn.

He shakes his head. “Trust me, bro. Sleep it off.” He pushes me into my bedroom and closes the door behind me.

I stand there for a few minutes, not knowing what to do. Did Dylan seriously push me into my room and demand that I not leave? Is that what a smart motherfucker does? Because I don’t like this.

I sink onto my bed anyway, head in my hands, and contemplate.

She’s probably with him right now.

The image tears at me.