Page 118 of Revenge Puck

“Ah, well, I practice a lot.”

“Uncle Preston practices a lot too, and he’s slow.”

Preston growls quietly while Christian huffs out a laugh. “Preston could practice day and night and he would still be slow.”

“Are you playing in today’s game?” Finley asks.

“Yes. Yeah, of course.”

“You aren’t in your uniform.”

“Oh right,” Christian says, his hands that have been clutching his blue and yellow jersey relax as he untwists it. “I, um, I brought you one of my jerseys. If you want it, I mean.”

“Cool. I don’t have a Bobcats’ jersey,” Finley replies as he swipes it from Christian’s hands. He holds it up in front of him, inspecting the front and then the back of the youth large he’ll be able to grow into and wear for years.

I really hope Christian sticks around that long.

“Bobcats!Rawr! Will you sign it for me?” Finley asks, practically jumping up and down.

“Ah, yeah. Absolutely.” Christian pats down the sides of his slacks for a writing utensil, even though he never carries one. “I don’t have a pen or anything on me.”

“I have one,” Maya says, whipping one out from her clear cross-body bag. She offers it to Finley who snatches it up and holds the marker and jersey up to Christian. He takes both and looks at them as if he can’t remember how to write his own name.

“You could use that Lego table over there,” I suggest.

“Right. Yeah. Thanks,” Christian says before he goes over and lays the fabric on the table with Finley hot on his heels. He points at the top white corner above the numbers on the front to indicate where he wants his father to sign.

“I’ll just…I better get to my seat. Will you be okay, Christian?”

He nods without even glancing in my direction.

“Good luck,” I tell him and glance over at Preston, who looks like a sad grizzly bear. “You too.”

Preston

Elle’s here.

Or she was here.

I was so shocked to see her with Christian that I couldn’t even speak a word. And now she’s gone, and I can’t exactly chase her through the arena in my skates.

I’m not sure why I’m surprised she came with Christian.

The photo of them…embracing outside her salon was all over sports news and social media. I wanted to punch something orsomeone the first time I saw it, along with the assumptions that they were back together, and I had been kicked to the curb.

By the tenth time I had to look at the image, I had come to terms with the fact that I had lost her fair and square, and it was nobody’s fault but my own. Winning the trophy and begging her on national television would be pointless now.

Maya looks about like I feel as she supervises Christian and Finley’s first meeting. The two are making a spaceship out of Legos, that looks like a giant dick, complete with balls. I’m not sure if Maya’s going to yell, cry, or laugh when this meeting is over.

And it will have to be over soon. Not just because I’m a little hurt that Finley put on Riley’s Bobcats jersey over mine, but because we’ve both got a game to play.

What was with Elle’s shirt? It had both Bobcats and Warhawk logos on it, as if she doesn’t have a preferred team. I want her to root for my team, wear my jersey. But I fucked that all up.

“We need to get going, Riley,” I remind him, a little harsher than I intended because of the reminder of how badly I screwed up with Elle.

“Oh. Yeah. Right,” Christian agrees as he stands from the tiny chair and runs his fingers through the front of his blond hair. “I…thanks,” he says to Maya. Then to my nephew, he reaches a hand toward him, turning it into a fist for him to hit. “It was nice to meet you, Finley. I heard you like video games.”

“Uh-huh.”

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