Page 43 of Her Puck Daddies
As I massage a defenseman named Brucker’s feet—his feet are so fucking huge, I bet the team has to special order his skates—my phone buzzes in my pocket a few times, but I ignore it.
While my contract doesn’t strictly forbid answering during business hours, I consider it rude to interrupt someone’s massage. All my attention should be on them, not my cell. Besides, it’s getting late. Brucker is my last appointment of the afternoon. I can check my messages in about five minutes.
Only, I don’t count on my phone vibrating like a sex toy with fresh batteries over the course of those five minutes. It goes off constantly. So much that Brucker lifts his head out of the open circle.
“You need to get that?”
“Oh, no. I’m sure it’s fine.”
But I’m not sure. Not sure at all.
We have one minute left on the clock when Brucker sits up and pulls away from me. “Sorry, Ava, but that buzzing is getting to me. Why don’t we call this thing done?”
“I don’t mind if you don’t mind,” I tell him, my head not really in the conversation.
The number of people who would try to reach me on purpose is pretty small—especially over and over like this. It’s either Leighton or Dean calling from an unknown number. Hell, it could even be a bill collector or some stupid bot.
My mom definitely wouldn’t be calling. She’s probably out of Wi-Fi range somewhere in her 1999 Dodge Van, living the nomadic life and doing her thing with nature and weed.
Themoment I step outside to let Brucker get decent, I see it’s just Leighton. Thank god. But… as I read her multiple texts, bots and wrong numbers are the last things on my mind.
4:44 PMLeighton: So dear ole Dino is here drunk
4:44 PMLeighton: Idiot is swaggering around like a peacock
4:45 PMLeighton: Shit he just saw me and is coming over
I keep scrolling, my nerves kicking up a notch. Each message from Leighton feels heavier, like it’s building toward something I don’t want to face.
4:47 PMLeighton: LaDonna intercepted him
4:48 PMLeighton: JFC he ordered beer and drank out of the pitcher like it’s a horse trough
4:48 PMLeighton: Told her not to give him anything else
4:55 PMLeighton: Asked if I helped you with your elaborate scheme
Fuck. Why didn’t it occur to me that he might start harassing my best friend with me gone? I never told him about the bar where she works, and frankly, he didn’t care enough to ask. It must not have taken much for him to track her down. Just a little digging, and bam, he’s there, running his mouth and making her life hell, just like he did mine.
4:56 PMLeighton: Said I didn’t know what he was talking about
4:56 PMLeighton: Didn’t like that I wouldn’t tell him where you were
It’s been five minutes since that last text. Is Dean still there? I open my phone app, but before I can hit her name in my favorites, my notification pings.
5:01 PMLeighton: He’s gone
Brucker ducks out of my office, so I take advantage of the opportunity and leap back inside, locking the door. Then, I call her.
“I’m so sorry,” I say as a greeting.
“It’s all right. Everything’s all right,” she replies quickly, her voice flustered.
“Did you call the cops?”
“No. I thought about it, but he finally left.”
“I’m so sorry,” I repeat. It doesn’t feel like nearly enough, but it’s all I can offer.