Page 8 of Pucked Up (Punk as Puck #2)
Hugo met my gaze. “I have experience with disabled people.”
I almost choked to death trying to hold back my incredulous laugh. “You have disabled friends, eh?”
“Parents,” he said. “Amongst other things. I will never pretend to know the experience of living in a disabled body, but I’ve spent my life understanding what people like you need.”
“People like me.”
“I’m saying that wrong?—”
Rolling my chair to face Jacob, I said, “Keep him and I quit.”
“So quit. I have four guys willing to step up tomorrow to snag that C off your chest,” he answered. “Torin literally offered to eat my ass two weeks ago if I’d bump Tucker and give him the A.”
“Well, that’s a good enough reason to paint the ice red with his face,” I told him. “But aside from that, I’m not joking.”
Journey burst into laughter. “This is amazing.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Jacob and I both said. With a sigh, Jacob leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I will literally walk you to the curb if you really want to quit over this. Or you can untwist your panties, quit being a fucking twelve-year-old, and do your job as captain.”
“This isn’t my job,” I said primly.
This was meant to be a stepping stone—a way back in, to prove to myself that I was ready for the pros and that I’d learned my lesson.
Though throwing a tantrum maybe wasn’t the best way to prove that.
But Jacob hadn’t actually gone out of his way to see that a scout would come to our games, so what good was he anyway?
“You’ll never get what you want if you don’t show the world you’ve done your best to earn it,” Hugo said.
I spun to face him. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
“Hugo Martin.”
“That wasn’t a literal question!” Gripping my wheels, I rolled back and turned toward the door.
“So, is that a resignation or—” Journey called after me.
I flipped him the bird as I headed into the hallway. I wasn’t resigning. I wasn’t going to let those smarmy assholes ruin this team and ruin my chances of doing what I was literally born to do. I wouldn’t be a legend the way my father or grandfather envisioned, but I would be something.
I just had to make sure that everything was in place. Which meant getting Hugo off the team and sent wherever the fuck he was from. And then getting Jacob to pull his head out of his ass, which was a lot easier said than done.
I made it almost to the front entrance when I heard footsteps coming up behind me, and I wanted to cry because it was obviously Journey, and he was obviously coming to rub my tantrum in my face.
“Are you really quitting?”
I turned to face him. “No.”
He bit his lip, glanced over his shoulder, then said, “I don’t see what the big deal is. Jacob seems pretty confident this guy knows what he’s doing.”
“Do you know him?” Journey and I weren’t friends.
We’d barely been acquaintances when we started fucking, and we barely tolerated each other when I had a momentary lapse of sanity and agreed to exclusivity for the long week he convinced me it was a good idea.
But I still trusted that he would let me know when his brother was going to shake things up.
He took a deep breath, then said, “No, but I think my brother got a call from, uh…from your dad.”
My chest went numb, like someone had filled it with ice. “My dad.”
“I don’t know how he knows Hugo, but I’m pretty sure he’s the one who put the idea in Jacob’s head. So…I don’t know. I mean, we both know your dad’s a prick?—”
“You don’t get to call him that,” I snapped.
He rolled his eyes. “Hey, remove hockey stick from rectum, then speak to me.”
I flipped him off.
“Fine. At least unclench around it. And I’m just saying that if your dad knows this guy, maybe he knows his stuff.”
“I don’t want some fucking Parisian?—”
“He’s from Dijon,” Journey corrected.
“Does it look like I give a fuck about French geography?”
He laughed and rolled his eyes. “You don’t give a fuck about anything except your pet best friends, your lucky puck, your Sponge Bob socks, and whether or not you eat enough protein in each meal.”
He wasn’t wrong. But he also wasn’t right. I did care about quite a few things. I just hadn’t let him in long enough to know who I really was, and I was okay with that.
“I don’t care if you hate me,” I told him, “but you have to agree that he is the wrong person for the job.”
Journey gave me a long look. “Do you…know him?”
“What?” My cheeks heated. Fuck . He couldn’t possibly know what Hugo and I had done.
His eyes went wide. “You do . This is personal, isn’t it? Did you know your dad was sending him?”
Oh, thank fuck. He didn’t know the truth.
Not that I was a hundred percent sure I’d actually done what I’d done.
I was tempted to sneak a picture of Hugo and send it to Tiago, but I had no idea if he’d be able to recognize his face.
Blind guys were, unfortunately, unreliable when it came to suspect lineup photos.
“I have no idea if he knows my dad, and this isn’t about that.
It’s personal because this is…” I trailed off and sighed.
I didn’t want to give him my pathetic attempt at a comeback story.
Journey knew I was angry and determined, but he didn’t know those intimate details because he’d never been worth it.
And that wasn’t going to change just because he was chasing after me in an attempt to calm me down. Jacob had probably sent him.
And that pissed me right off. Reaching up, I plucked my hearing aids out of my ears as I stared him right in the eye. My hearing settled into a dull roar—kind of like shoving my head into a pillow and listening to someone talk.
“Oh, real cute,” he said. He wasn’t impossible to understand, but he didn’t know that.
I spun in my chair and wheeled toward the doors. “Tell Jacob he’s going to be sorry,” I called. Journey shouted something back, but this time, he didn’t chase me.
I made it to my car, a fire burning in my chest, determined to burn this whole thing to the ground. Hugo had called me petit feu, but I was about to show him just how much damage one little fire could do. If that little fire was angry enough.
And I sure as shit was.