Page 30 of Puck Lust

A few hours later, I toy with my fork in the lobby restaurant, the scene in the hotel room looping through my mind.

My dad finishes cutting his steak and puts his utensils down. “What’s wrong, Carter? You’ve barely touched your food. You nervous about the game tomorrow?”

“Not really.”

I take a long sip of my water then put the glass on the table. Droplets of condensation slip down the sides of the glass. I stare at them as they hit the chipped wooden tabletop.

“You’re going to prove yourself to this team. You’re a strong player, and they know what they got when they took you in that trade. Your heart?—”

“Heart isn’t always enough.” I raise my eyes to my dad. “You can have all the heart in the world but talent takes over. You know that.”

“You can still be a leader even if you’re not the best.” Dad folds his fingers together. “I’ve always told you that and you’ve taken to that role.”

“I know, Dad. You remind me over and over how not being the best is okay, how being a good leader is just as important.” My tone is snippy and I cut myself off before I can say more.

“Where’s this coming from?” Dad asks. “Why so tense? You must be excited to play with your friend Jack Larson again. Talk about a world-class athlete. He must have gotten a lot of money to leave New York.”

I just stare at my father, shaking my head.

“Not that you should be ashamed of what you got in your contract,” he hurriedly says. “But Jack is a different story. He always was. Except…”

Dad’s voice trails off and my eyes pop open wide when Jack walks out of the elevator. He must’ve just gotten out of the shower, his skin pink and hair slicked back. He’s in a t-shirt now and a different pair of basketball shorts.

Still sullen. Still bruised. Still gorgeous.

My heart immediately stutters and my throat tightens as he gets closer. It’s like his presence alone sucked all the air out from the room.

“…it must be difficult for him to be a gay player inthe NHL. I don’t care how talented you are, that will always be a stigma you carry. It will always cloud your success.”

I look back to my dad. “It’s not like a disease, you know. It’s who he is. He shouldn’t be crucified for it. Not like he had a choice in the matter.”

A surprised look clouds Dad’s expression. “No, I understand that, but people are narrow-minded, no matter how much of a superstar you are. Times are still challenging. There’s a lot of intolerance. I would never want that for you. And besides, you already have your own challenges. You’re competing with the best. You don’t need any other strikes against you.”

I pick up my fork again and drag it through the heaping pile of mashed potatoes on my barely touched plate.

My own challenges.

Fuck, there are too many to count.

Out of the corner of my eye, I track Jack at the bar, his face buried in his phone.

He suddenly turns as if he feels me watching and meets my curious gaze.

The loneliness in his expression makes my heart clench.

And I realize that my next greatest challenge isn’t how I navigate the ice.

It’s the guy staring right back at me.

ELEVEN

jack

The room isdark when Carter keys into the room. I’m turned on my side facing the shaded windows, pretending to be asleep because I can’t handle any more of his questions.

I definitely can’t stomach any more lies.

Like how I told him to let me go when all I really wanted was for him to hold me.

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