Page 26 of Pucked Up (Punk as Puck #2)

I stroked my fingers over the back of his neck. “Hey. I’m fine. And next time, if I’m being a dipshit and refusing to respond, just come over. That’s what your key is for.”

“Fuck you, Tucker,” Ford said, his voice still muffled against my skin. “We could have come over!”

Tucker shrugged, unrepentant. “I maintain that he needed a moment.”

“I did.”

“What happened?” Ford asked as he pulled back. He wasn’t crying but his eyes were a little red. “ Did he hurt you? Because you know we will kill him. ”

“Or knock a few teeth out,” Tucker said with a shrug. “I’m good at that.”

I smiled faintly. “I hurt myself. I have rules. Important rules.”

“We know,” Tucker said, rolling his eyes.

“I broke them. After I realized who he was, I still went back for more, but I can’t—this can’t happen. You know that.”

“Uh. Do we?” Ford asked. “If you like him and he likes you?—”

“I’m trying to get into the PPHL!”

“Uh-huh,” Ford said. “I’m not seeing the problem.”

“Is it because he’s, you know, not disabled?” Tucker asked.

In truth, there was a tiny part of me that was bothered by that.

I never in a million years imagined I’d feel any kind of way about a person who couldn’t at least slightly understand my reality.

Able-bodied people always had moments where they couldn’t handle me.

I didn’t want to live stressed about whether or not he’d plan an inaccessible date, or get irritated with me because I was slow, or embarrassed because I fell in public.

But my traitorous dick and even more traitorous heart were rebelling against me.

“There’s no guarantee that I’ll get on a team nearby,” I finally said. “And that’s if I get recruited at all. And there’s no guarantee that if I am close by, I won’t get traded in two seasons. ”

Ford looked devastated. “I hadn’t thought about that. Shit.”

“This will always be my home,” I told him quickly. “But our league isn’t much different from the NHL. Trades happen. A lot. I’ll be an old rookie—not someone teams will be willing to take risks with. If I have a bad season…” I trailed off because they knew.

There were moments we all sat around waiting for Jonah or Micah or Tiago to announce they were being shipped off to the western division.

I was ready for that to be my life, but also, I wasn’t.

I had so much here, and it was hard knowing I might have to sacrifice my every creature comfort for my dreams of playing pro.

And I sure as shit wasn’t going to ask a partner to give anything up for me.

But Hugo wasn’t my partner either. Even if he’d held me all night and made me breakfast the next morning.

Even if now, whatever was between us, had been muddied by the fact that we’d been together and hadn’t done the only thing that was supposed to matter.

“Are you quitting your job?” Tucker asked quietly.

I glanced over at him and sighed. “I…I think so, yeah. I have a little money to live on, and I really think I want to focus back on hockey.”

For some reason, they both looked relieved.

“Okay,” Ford said. “And you’re feeling fine. I mean, apart from your existential sexuality crisis.”

“It’s not a sexuality—oh, whatever. Yes. I’m fine.”

Ford nodded, then hauled his arm back and socked me in the bicep. Pain shot down to my fingers, and I stared at him.

“What the fuck?”

“You know you deserved that. Take it like a man.”

I couldn’t argue. If either of them had done this, I would have lost it too.

The only reason Ford hadn’t beat the shit out of Tucker when he’d had his little Vegas incident was that he’d come home relatively unscathed.

Apart from the memory loss and random marriage, but that all worked out just fine.

“Anyway, my freak-out wasn’t just about Hugo. There are other things going on.” They stared at me, and I sighed. “My dad is forcing me to attend a benefit,” I told them after the pain faded.

Tucker frowned, his eyes squinting. “What benefit?”

“The Reid Martin. The guy who basically founded the PPHL.” They were staring at me like I was speaking Greek. “Whatever—anyway, he wants to parade me around and have me rub elbows so I can get an offer for a team and then be forever in his debt.”

“So don’t go. Fuck him,” Ford said.

I wanted to do that. More than anything, I wanted to do that. Actually, no. That wasn’t true. More than anything, I wanted to play goddamn pro hockey and prove myself. If I had to let my dad find me a team and take credit, so be it.

I’d have years to prove that I deserved my place.

“I have to do this one thing. But the idea of going and being stuck with him all weekend is making me want to throw myself into the sun.”

“Can one of us be your date?” Ford asked softly. “That way, you don’t have to go alone, and you won’t have to spend all your time with him.”

Shit. Why hadn’t I thought of that? I’d been so wrapped up in the bullshit of it all I’d forgotten my friends really were ride or die. And after Micah had turned me down, I let the idea go.

“I hinted at it to Micah, and he told me to shove a stick up my ass, so yeah.” I looked between Ford and Tucker, but I knew Tucker was out. Things with Amedeo were still new, and he was in the middle of training for his new coaching position. My gaze settled on Ford. “Want to be my date?”

“Carol-Ann and I would be honored,” he said, then nuzzled back up against me harder. “I’m still pissed at you though.”

“You’ll get over it,” I assured him.

He scoffed, then shrugged. “Yeah. I probably will. Come with me shopping later and help me pick out something pretty to wear. I want all the cute boys to be jealous.”

I shoved him off, and he rolled away, laughing so hard it actually made me smile. I felt…maybe not better, but different.

And anything different was good.