Page 28 of Puck Struck (Dirty Puck #3)

Coach doesn't bother with another speech. There’s no need.

We all know what’s at stake. He points at the whiteboard where he's drawn some plays for the next period.

I'm wrapping tape around my stick when I notice Cam slip away from the meeting and move toward the hallway with his phone in hand.

His face, which was pink a few seconds ago, has lost all color.

I sneak away to follow him, staying just far enough back to overhear his conversation. He ducks into an empty corridor, pressing the phone to his ear.

"I told you to leave him out of this," he hisses, his back to me. "That wasn't part of the deal."

I move closer, straining to hear more.

"Two weeks. You said two weeks." His voice cracks. "No, I—you can't just change the fucking terms whenever you want."

I step on a loose piece of tape, the slight sound echoing in the empty corridor. Cam whirls around, his eyes widening when he sees me.

"I’ve got to go," he says into the phone, stabbing the screen.

For a moment, we just stare at each other, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between us.

"James?" I ask, even though I already know the answer.

Cam nods, shoving the phone into his pocket. "It's nothing."

"Bullshit." I close the distance between us. "What's he saying now?"

"It doesn't matter. "

"It matters to me," I say, my voice cutting. "Especially when it's affecting our game. What did he say?"

Cam looks away, jaw tight. "He's changing the timeline. Says two weeks is too long, that he's getting impatient."

"And?"

"And he mentioned you specifically." Cam's eyes meet mine, fear evident in their depths. "Said he had more photos of us together from Detroit."

Ice chills my blood. "Photos of what, exactly?"

"Nothing explicit. Just us...close. Enough to fuel the rumors." He swallows hard. "He wants to meet when we get back to Oakland."

"And you were going to tell me this when?" I clench my fists tight, wishing like hell James was here so I could bury one in his skull.

"I was handling it."

"Like you handled it last night?" The words come out harsher than I intended, bitter and laced with hurt.

Cam recoils. "That was different."

"Was it?" I step closer. "Or is this just what you do? Push people away when things get hard? Run when someone gets too close?"

"You don't understand?—"

"I understand perfectly," I cut him off. "You're scared. So am I. But I don't bail when things get tough."

"This isn't about me being scared," Cam says, voice rising. "This is about keeping you safe. Keeping your family safe. James knows about Ethan, Logan. He's using that against me."

The thought of James knowing about Ethan, about my family, sends a fresh wave of fury through me. It also solidifies my resolve.

"What the hell are you going to do on your own? Leave for New York and then what? Walk away from hockey? You’ll just be his fucking captive forever?”

He shrugs and brings a hand to the back of my head.

“I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead.

All I know is that the guy is dangerous.

He’s got a grudge and he wants revenge for me ruining his life.

I’d rather find a way to deal with it on my own than drag anyone down with me.

He could ruin me. We all know it. The league doesn’t have tolerance for what I did, regardless of my reasons.

Nobody will want me, Logan. No team will want a black mark on its roster.

No companies will sponsor me. They won’t want me repping their products.

So I’ll go to New York and I’ll find a way out somehow. ”

The desperation in his voice guts me. He really feels like he’s got nowhere to turn, nobody who’ll give a damn enough if he just disappears.

But he’s wrong. I care. I hate that I care so much, but I do.

“You’re wrong. He’s blackmailing you and that’s a criminal offense.

What you did shouldn’t destroy your future.

It doesn’t define you as a person. And I want to help you through this.

All the more reason for us to handle this together," I say.

"Remember Mike? My cop friend? He can help us build a case, gather evidence properly.

But we need to work together. You need to trust me.

And you need to stand strong against him. I know you can do that."

"You’re willing to risk your career? Your family?"

"My career and my family are already at risk," I point out. "The photos are out there. James knows who we are, where we live. Pushing me away doesn't change that. It just takes away my ability to control what happens next."

Cam stares at me, his gaze heavy with conflict. Before he can respond, Tate pokes his head around the corner.

"There you two are. Coach is looking for you. We gotta get back out there. "

We follow him back to the bench, silent.

As we take the ice for the second period, I catch Cam's eye. "We'll figure this out," I mutter against his ear. "But right now, let's win this fucking game."

He nods, a thin smile on his lips.

The second period is better. Not perfect, but better. We finally connect on plays and find our rhythm again. Every shift is a battle against my ragged body. Each time I take a hit along the boards, white-hot fire lances through my shoulder. But I keep going. We score once, and the gap closes.

By the third period, Cam and I are back on track. Kind of. It’s not the dream team effort we’ve shown for recent games but it may be enough for us to clinch the win. Maybe it’s because this time it’s not just the game at stake.

With five minutes left, we tie the game on a power play goal.

With forty-three seconds left, Cam threads a pass to me through the smallest gap in the St. Louis defensive line.

I bury it in the net, the red light flashing, the arena erupting into collective boos.

The only ones cheering are our teammates, and that’s good enough for us.

Trudging back to the locker room, my heart weighs heavy in my chest. The win should feel incredible. Instead, it feels like we’re just on borrowed time.

Because as much as I tried to sweep it aside for the game today, we have to find a way to take James out of the picture.

He’s too much of a threat, and while I have security all over my family now, I can’t just let Cam walk away with him.

If he’d hurt my family, I can’t imagine what the sick fuck might do to Cam.

A pro hockey career isn’t worth giving up his life for.

So James has to fucking go. I just need to figure out the “how.”

The locker room is loud and boisterous. But my head is in another place entirely .

My phone buzzes with another text from Tessa.

Ethan's school called. He's not feeling well. I'm picking him up now. Nothing serious, just tired and a little feverish.

My heart rate spikes immediately. With Ethan's condition, even a mild fever could be a warning sign.

I don't hesitate, hitting the call button right away. Tessa answers on the second ring.

"Lo? Everything okay?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," I say, stepping into a quieter corner of the locker room. "What's going on with Ethan?"

"The school nurse called. He was complaining of being tired and had a low-grade fever of 99.8, nothing too alarming. I picked him up early from school and he’s been resting."

"Did you call the doctor?"

"Yes, left a message. Her office said it could just be a virus, but they want to see him tomorrow to be safe."

I run a hand through my damp hair. "They weren’t alarmed?"

"Not without more testing," Tessa says, and I can hear the strain beneath her calm.

"I'll be home tomorrow. First flight back. I’m coming with you."

"Logan, don't worry. Just focus on?—"

"I'll call you back once I'm at the hotel," I cut her off. "Give Ethan a hug from me."

I end the call, anxiety churning in my gut. When I turn around, Cam is standing a few feet away and it’s clear by the expression on his face that he heard everything.

"Ethan?" he asks.

I nod. "He's running a fever. Tessa picked him up early from school."

"Is it serious? "

"With his condition, any fever could be." I grab my bag, wincing as the weight pulls on my bad shoulder. "I need to get back to the hotel."

When the team heads out for a victory celebration, I hang back. Cam does the same. No one questions it, though Carter gives me a knowing look as he leaves.

Back at the hotel, I call Tessa again. She's home with Ethan, who's on the couch watching cartoons. His fever hasn't risen, but she's monitoring it closely. I speak with him for a few minutes, relieved to hear his voice sounding normal. Just tired.

After we hang up, I pace the length of my room, organizing my thoughts, trying to sort through the chaos threatening to overwhelm me. Ethan. My shoulder. James. Cam.

A knock at the door interrupts my mental spiral. I open it to find Cam standing there, hesitant but determined.

"How's Ethan?" he asks.

"Stable. For now."

"Good. That's good."

He hovers near the door and I hold it open wider. “You want to come in?”

Cam steps inside the room and I resume my pacing, the silence between us deafening.

"I need to know everything," I say finally, stopping to face him. "Every threat, every contact, every detail about what James wants. No more secrets, Cam. Not if we're going to beat this."

He bites down on his lower lip, then nods. "Okay."

"And we do this my way," I continue. "With a plan. With evidence. With Mike's help, if necessary."

"Your way," he echoes, a hint of a smile on his lips.

"What's funny?"

"Nothing. It’s just...of course you need a plan. You always need to be in control. "

"Is that a problem?" I lift an eyebrow.

"No." His expression softens. "It's just... very you."

I'm not sure how to take that but I can’t argue with the truth. "James is threatening both of us now. That means we face him together or not at all."

"And if I say no?" He crosses his arms over his chest.

"Not an option." I step closer, close enough to see the flecks of gold in his green eyes. "I don't let people I care about face things alone. Not ever."

The words hang between us. I can't take them back. But I hold my breath, waiting to see how he accepts them this time. Last time, he bolted.

Cam's eyes widen slightly, but he doesn't pull away.

"Okay," he says.

My shoulders sag with relief. "We'll build a case. Record calls, save texts, document everything.”

"How much does Mike know?"

"Not everything." I sink down on the bed. "Just that someone's being blackmailed. But he's trustworthy."

Cam nods, some of the tension leaving his shoulders as he sits next to me. "I'm sorry. About last night. I thought I was protecting you."

"I know." I don't tell him he's forgiven, because I'm not sure he is, not completely. But it's a start. Maybe that means he feels…something.

My phone rings again. I see Tessa’s name and stab the Accept button.

"Everything okay?"

"Yes, I just wanted to update you. His fever's the same. The doctor called me back, said to keep monitoring him overnight and bring him in tomorrow when the office opens at nine."

"I'll get an earlier flight," I say. "Call me if anything changes. Doesn't matter what time."

"I will. Love you."

"Love you too."

I hang up, exhaustion washing over me. Between the game, my shoulder, and the constant worry about Ethan, I'm running on fumes.

"You should rest," Cam says, watching me closely.

I nod, too tired to argue. "Yeah."

"So what now?" he asks.

"Now, we go home," I say. "And we figure out how to handle James."

But even as I say it, I can't help feeling like we're heading toward something bigger than either of us is prepared for. What happens next is completely uncertain and surely dangerous knowing the psycho we’re dealing with.

For someone who craves control as much as I do, it's a terrifying thought.

But looking at Cam, I know I'm not turning back.