Page 115 of Playing the Pucking Game

We’re not as close as we once were now that he’s playing in Seattle, but we try to catch up every week, and we do our best to squeeze in visits. But with me now following the Vipers around the country on road games, it’s exponentially harder to make that happen. At least we’ll have games against each other to look forward to.

Bandits and Vipers games are always fun with Rett and Linc going head-to-head with each other. The fans eat that shit up, and it always makes for an electric game.

They’ve already had a couple of matchups this season, but we have more to look forward to.

Shuffling, so I’m sitting against the headboard, I comb my fingers through my messy hair. I didn’t do anything with it after getting caught in the rain last night; I can only imagine what a disaster it is after tossing and turning all night.

“Yeah,” I force out. “Everything is fine, why?”

A beat of silence passes, and I panic that Linc has already told him I’m here.

My heart rate picks up and my lips part to say something when he beats me to it.

“Don’t fucking lie to me, PK.”

I swallow thickly and stare down at the sheets covering my legs, wishing that I could sink under them and put an end to all of this.

“Mom called me, asked me if I knew about your apartment,” Rett continues.

“I’m sorry,” I squeak.

“Why the fuck didn’t you call me?” he asks. The hurt in his voice makes my chest ache.

I fucking hate disappointing Rett. He’s always been my number-one supporter.

“You’ve got enough going on right now; you didn’t need my drama.”

“Fuck that, Parker. Your fucking home burned down. You could have been inside and?—”

“But I wasn’t,” I quickly interrupt.

It’s something I’ve refused to allow myself to think about. It’s bad enough knowing that my neighbors were at home and had to escape. I’m just grateful that I had plans that meant I was away from it all. I’m also really fucking grateful for Linc. If I had taken that Uber home, what would I have done?

I know for a fact that I wouldn’t be here right now. Which, let’s be honest, probably wouldn’t be a bad thing.

It sure would have been better for my sanity.

“I’ve probably lost all my stuff, but I’ll get over that. It’s just stuff.”

“I know,” he says sadly. “But it still sucks, and you still should have called me.”

“I’m sorry. I was trying to be independent and?—”

“You were too ashamed to confess about your insurance?”

“Goddamn it. Can’t Mom and Dad keep any secrets?” I curse.

“They’re worried about you. I am too.”

“I’m fine. I promise. I’m…” I look around the room, debating whether to tell Rett the truth or not.

No. It’s better for him not to know.

“I’m staying with a colleague. A friend,” I add quickly, which is possibly a lie. I have no idea what Linc and I are after last night. Colleagues might be more accurate now.

“Do you need anything? I can wire you money. I can organize a lease?—”

“No, Rett. Thank you. I really appreciate the offer, but I’m really okay. I have some savings, and I’m just going to replace things as I need them.”