Page 109 of No Pucks

“Me? What about you? I’d never take that from you.”

“I won’t be going anywhere, but it’s a family business, and I want you there.”

I lean in and hug her. “Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too, always. Now, go do what you need to do, and you better not quit hockey.”

I roll my eyes and get up. “Thank you. Don’t tell Dad.”

“You know I won’t. I can’t get him to even pick up his crap from the house. And he has a mandate from the lawyer.” She gets up with me. “I’ll walk you out.”

“He still hasn’t picked up his stuff?”

“Nope. I even paid someone to box it up for him.”

This motherfucker. He’s really fucking with everyone I love to a whole other level, and I want to bury him.

I pull out my phone and unblock my father. “Let me try.”

It rings a few times before he answers. “Hello?”

“Dad?” I ask.

“Logan. It’s so good to hear from you. Is this about your coach? I’m so sorry to hear he’s been fired.”

Mother’s eyes flash to meet mine.

When I don’t say anything, he keeps going. “I’m guessing you’re looking into your options for next year. We’re going to have steep competition, but I’ll consider letting you play for the Monsters.”

My blood is boiling by the time he finishes. “I wouldn’t play for you if it was the last team on the planet.”

He growls. “Then why the fuck are you calling me, Logan?”

“Because you seem to be ignoring Mother.” I hold out the phone so she can speak.

“You have three days to come pick up your crap, or I’m donating it. Every trophy, every jersey, every medal. I’ll even donate your grandmother’s ashes.”

“You’d donate Grandma?!”

“Since she covered for your cheating when she was alive, yes, she can sit on the shelf at Goodwill and think about what she’s done.” Mother rolls her eyes, and I stifle a laugh.

“She just wanted her little pumpkin to be happy! She doesn’t deserve Goodwill.” Dad actually sounds worried for once.

“Maybe she should have told her little pumpkin to keep his dick in his pants. Three days, Michael.” She presses end. “Thank you.”

“If he doesn’t come get the shit, please, please donate it.”

“Actually, I think I’ll donate it to an auction house so all his old crap can raise money for something.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Go do what you need to do.”

Another cab ride across Manhattan, and I find myself at Wolfe’s. They were having a party, but I’d texted him before heading to my mother’s to tell them I needed to tell the team something.

So when I knock, I’m fully expecting to get accosted by the entire team, half drunk.

“You better not be quitting.” Wolfe cuts an opposing figure when he opens the door.

“How long have you guys been assuming the worst?”

“Since you sent that text. It was like a damn break up text. You never say we need to talk.”

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