Page 112 of Revenge Puck

Wow. It looks like Elle was right yet again.

“Yeah, Finley.”

“Could I…would it be possible to see him before the game, though? Don’t make me face something this big after… It won’t be fair to him if I’m in a shit mood.”

“You that certain your team is gonna lose?” I turn around to ask him.

“I don’t know and neither do you. Please, Pres. Just do this one thing for me. You owe me that much after keeping my son from me for the past four fucking years!”

He’s not wrong. But, it’s not exactly up to me.

“I’ll talk to Maya and see what she says. The truth is, she doesn’t even know I was going to tell you today.”

Fingers raking through his hair, he tugs on the strands, his face twisted as if in pain. “Jesus. She didn’t want me to ever find out, did she?”

“It was more me than her. I should’ve asked her what she wanted but I didn’t. I thought I knew better. I will ask her for this, though. I have to.”

“Okay. Let me know?”

“Yeah. I’ll let you know.”

“What are you really doing in town?” he asks. “Trying to make up with Elle?”

“Why do you think I need to make up with her?”

“Because I’ve been in her shoes. Your knee-jerk reaction to any problem is cutting people out of your life. It’s easier that way, right? Then you don’t actually have to admit when you’re wrong or try to fix shit.”

“You’re right. I ended things with her after the last game,” I admit to him for some stupid reason. “And now I’m moving to San Diego, so there’s no reason for her to forgive me.”

“San Diego? The Grizzlies?”

Shit. I really shouldn’t have said that. Contracts are supposed to be kept confidential, especially when they’re still in the negotiation phase. Now they may have another reason to yank it out from under me if he runs his mouth.

“It’s not a done deal yet, but it’s the best offer Tommy thinks I’ll get.”

“That’s a fucking lie.”

“What?”

“I know the Bobcats want you.”

“How?”

“Management asked me about you, before the series started. They wanted my blessing.”

“So that’s why they haven’t sent anything in writing.”

“If they haven’t made an official offer, then I honestly don’t know why,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “I told them I don’t give a shit.”

“You don’t give a shit?”

“Maybe it was stupid, but I thought that if we finally got to play on the same team again, we could work things out. I’m not the one who always starts the fights.”

“You run your mouth just to get me to lose it and hit you.”

“True. You did break my arm and give me a concussion. You’re the reason we didn’t make it to the playoff those two years.”

“Because you couldn’t play? You think awfully highly of yourself, don’t you?”

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