Page 116 of Playing the Pucking Game

Pain lashes at my insides as I think of some of the sentimental things I’m probably never going to see again. But what I said before is true. It’s just stuff. I’m okay. Everyone who was in the building got out safely. That’s what really matters.

“I wish you weren’t so stubborn,” he mutters down the line.

“Nah, it would be boring if I was,” I tease. “Someone has got to keep you on your toes.”

“Have you met my coach?” he deadpans.

Yeah, I have. And for some reason, he fucking hates Rett. He loves what he can achieve on the ice, of course. But personality-wise, they clash big time.

“Ah, you love him.”

“He’s the reason I’m calling you so early. He’s dragging us in early for extra conditioning sessions.”

“Well, looking at your performance recently, I can understand why,” I deadpan.

“Hey now, we can’t all be top of the league.”

A proud smile pulls at my lips. “You never know, maybe one day you’ll land yourself a spot on a winning team.”

“Harsh, PK. Harsh. Listen, I gotta run before Coach has me doing even more fucking drills.”

I chuckle.

“Call me if you need anything.”

“I won’t, but thanks.”

“Pain in the ass,” he mutters.

“Love you, bro,” I tease.

“Love you too. Be good.”

He hangs up before I get a chance to point out that he’s the one who needs that warning.

Letting my cell drop to the bed, I sink back into the warm sheets and close my eyes.

I regret it the second I do because all I can see is Linc looming over me last night, his eyes darting between mine and my mouth.

“Fucking hell,” I mutter, opening my eyes and staring at the ceiling.

I’m achingly aware that I could accept help from Mom and Dad, or Rett, get myself a place and get the hell away from Linc. But…I don’t want to.

I don’t want to be bailed out because I screwed up. I want to figure this out on my own, even if it means I have to dance around Linc for the foreseeable future.

As I lie there staring at nothing, images I don’t need on a constant loop in my head, the sun begins to rise, making the edges of the curtains glow, and not long later, the sound of someone moving around floats through the air.

If I were being a grown-up about it, I’d roll out of bed and go and talk to him. But the thought of facing him after how close we were last night makes me want to vomit.

So instead of dealing with my issues head-on, I continue to lie in bed and pray that he leaves before my alarm goes off and I need to step out of the safety of my bedroom.

Luck ison my side today.

By the time I needed to leave for the arena for my first session, Linc had shut himself in his home gym and I was able to slip out unnoticed.

I wanted to believe that he was hiding from me too, but this is Linc we’re talking about. He hasn’t hidden from a single thing in his entire life. I meet a few people I recognize as I walk toward the trainers’ room, all of whom greet me with a smile, giving me some hope that my luck today might continue.

That all comes to an end when I push our office door open and I find Dillion Mitchell standing right there with a scowl on his face.