Page 13 of Puck Lust

I had no choice after that kiss.

He wanted to bolt.

I read it all wrong. For fuckingmonths.I thought there was something between us, and the rejection and humiliation of that night was mortifying.

There was no way I could stay after that.

Seeing him every day, knowing I could never have him, that I repulsed him…it would have killed me.

Because when I kissed him, it was real. I felt better…lighter…safer.

Until the best friend I ever had shattered my heart.

Stupid me for not seeing things clearly. Carter was being his usual do-gooder self, trying to be a friend after that jerkoff Kyle tore into me in front of the whole junior hockey team. I’ll never forget the words that sliced into me, exposing my biggest secret to the guy I’d secretly pined for.

But fuck that guy. Maybe if Kyle focused on his game instead of my goddamn life, he’d have made it to the pros.

I wrap my fingers tight around the steering wheel. “Come the fuck on, bro,” I yell.

Feels like hours before I’m able to pull into the spot. I get out of the car, tugging the brim of my baseball cap down low before grabbing my equipment bag out of the trunk. I heave it over my shoulder and walk toward the back entrance of Play ItForward, the organization I volunteer for. Lucas Bentley and Jase Maxwell, two NFL stars on the Cincinnati Crusaders formed it a couple of years ago in Ohio, and since Jase’s brother Bryce plays with Sam on the Oakland Saints, they decided to expand the operation and built a center here, too.

The idea is to give underprivileged kids a place to get together, work with sports coaches, and build their athletic skills. Sports are damn expensive to play, and a lot of these kids have raw talent but no way of getting the equipment or training they need.

That’s where we come in. Since becoming a part of Play It Forward, we’ve done a bunch of events to raise money to get these kids what they need, give them hope for the future, and create a supportive community.

I originally started showing up here when I relocated back to Oakland. Sam was a big force in getting it off the ground and I jumped on board, hoping it’d bring us closer. I didn’t realize how close to home it would hit for me. I was lucky because even though my dad was a total abusive asshole, I did everything I could, worked every crap ass job there was to scrape together money for whatever second- and third-hand equipment I needed. And when coaches saw me play, they helped me to get what I’d needed, hooked me up with organizations that helped fund my play. That made me visible, and when the right people saw me play, the rest just fell into place.

I grit my teeth, my gut wrenching when my eyes drop to my phone. A chill swims through my insides when my brain reopens the cryptic email that came in a couple of days ago, reminding me that not everyone was as generous. Not all of my coaches were anxious to help me without getting something in return.

I pull open the door and walk inside. It’s still a little earlyand the kids don’t usually show up until around three-thirty, after school lets out.

Sam is already here setting up for the afternoon session. I drop my bag on the floor and walk over to the football bin. I bend to grab a few and follow him into the gym where he’s setting up.

He looks up at me, his brow furrowed. “I saw the game. You doing okay?”

I shrug, lining up the balls on the turf-covered floor. “I made a bad call and I paid for it.”

“How’s it going with the guys?”

I flash a half-smirk. “Well, let’s see, I lost our first game to the biggest rivals we have because I went trolling for glory. You tell me, how do you think it’s going?”

Sam sighs and shakes his head. He takes a few steps toward me, his eyebrows knitted together. “What the heck were you trying to prove, Jack? You made the choice to leave New York, remember? It’s not like they kicked you to the curb. Do you really want Oakland fans to see you as a selfish asshat who only cares about himself?”

I stiffen, straightening up. “How people see me isn’t your problem anymore.”

Sam’s stricken look makes me regret my words but fuck it. He’s always had a savior complex, but I’m not in the mood for a lecture.

But I’ll give him credit. He doesn’t shut down. Saint Sam never does.

He puts a hand on my arm. “Look, you always needed to be in the center of attention. I don’t understand why, but I want to tell you that you don’t need to try so hard to steal it. It shines on you because of who you are and what you can do. You’ve always been a star. Nobody can touch you on the ice. Be a leader for those guys, not a puck hog. You’re better than that.”

I stare at his hand for a long second, pressing my lips into a tight line. It’s because of who I am that we’re not together anymore.

Of course he doesn’t get why I need the spotlight so badly. Sam never knew the real me.

I couldn’t let him in the way he needed me to and deep down, I know that’s what broke us, not the distance.

But the one time I tried to open up, my truth smacked me in the face.

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