Page 84 of Puck Your Feelings

I've never even met the guy before today, and I already hate his guts more than I hate morning skates and people whodon't use turn signals combined. The way he looked at me, the pure disgust on his face, made me want to show him exactly how we handle pompous dickwads in the penalty box.

And Kane just... went with him. He looked at me with those sad fucking eyes and followed his father like he didn't have a choice.

Maybe he didn't.

I drop back onto the bunk, scrubbing my hands over my face. My mind keeps replaying the way Kane's entire body language changed the second he saw his dad—like someone flipped a switch and turned him from almost-human Kane back into Robot Kane 1.0.

I'm about to start my fifty-first lap of the cabin when the door finally opens.

Kane steps inside, and… Jesus. He looks wrecked. His face is ghost-white except for two patches of color high on his cheekbones, and his eyes have that thousand-yard stare that guys get after particularly brutal playoff eliminations.

I'm off the bunk in 0.2 seconds flat. "Where were you?" It comes out harsher than I intended, but my nerves are shot to hell and back.

Kane doesn't even look at me as he closes the door with excess care. "Walking. Thinking."

"Walking? For four hours?" I follow him as he moves to his bunk, watching as he sits down and starts untying his shoes. And says nothing. "Well? What did your father want?"

Kane takes off his shoes and puts them side by side under the bunk, then starts organizing his pocket contents on the nightstand. Keys. Wallet. Phone. Each item placed with surgicalprecision, like he's performing an operation instead of avoiding my questions.

"Just... father things," he says finally, his voice flat. "The usual."

I stand there, waiting for more, but that's apparently all I'm getting. My pulse pounds in my ears. "Kane, talk to me."

He looks up, and for a split second I see something raw in his eyes before he blinks it away. "I'm exhausted. Can we just not tonight?"

"No. We can't 'not tonight.'" I drop to a crouch in front of him, trying to force eye contact. "What did he actually say to you?"

Kane's shoulders rise and fall in a sigh that looks like it takes his last reserves of energy. "Nothing. Everything's fine, really."

The word "fine" lands like a slap. Fine is what people say when things are the exact fucking opposite of fine. Fine is what you tell the trainer when your ankle is probably broken but you don't want to miss the third period.

Fine is bullshit, and Kane knows it.

"Your father shows up unannounced, calls me a clout chaser, drags you away for four hours, and you come back looking like someone ran over your dog, but everything's 'fine'?" My voice rises with each word. "Do I look stupid to you?"

"He shouldn't have said that about you," he says quietly, and the fact that he's focusing onthatinstead of answering my actual question makes me want to scream. "I'm sorry he called you a clout chaser."

"I don't give a fuck what he called me!" I stand up, throwing my hands in the air. "He's notmyfather. I don't carewhat he thinks about me. I care what he said to you that's got you looking like you're about to throw up or pass out or both!"

Kane stands too, his movements stiff. "I said it's nothing. I've dealt with my father my entire life. This was just more of the same."

"Bullshit." I step closer, right into his personal space. "You're lying to me."

"I'm not—"

"Yes, you fucking are!" My voice echoes off the cabin walls. "I don’t get it. Why are you pretending everything’s fine when clearly it isn’t?"

Kane's face goes even more rigid, if that's possible. "There's nothing to get. I had a conversation with my father, I handled it, and now I'd like to go to bed."

I stare at him, looking for any crack in the armor, any sign of the Kane who was lifting me on the ice, and laughing with his whole body when we fell. The was kissing me senseless on this very bunk just days ago.

He's not there.

Something cold and hard settles in my chest. "Fine," I say, and the word tastes like ash. "Since you don't want to talk, I guess I'll leave you alone."

I grab my phone and jacket and head for the door. I pause with my hand on the knob, giving him one last chance to stop me.

Nothing.