Page 31 of Puck Lust

Goddammit, why does the one guy I actually want have to be straight?

And why did he have to be right about that jackass last night? I was so focused on hightailing it out of the bar and getting away from Carter that I snoozed on everything else.

I let him schedule the Uber and pick a place.

Where the fuck was my head?

A little clouded from all the booze, but not enough to let go of control like that.

No, it was Carter who had my head in a twist.

He tried to stop me because he’s a good guy, not for any other reason.

I think that got me even more pissed off than anything because I didn’t want him to save me.

I wanted him to claim me.

Clenching the bedsheet tight in my fists, I squeeze my eyes shut.

But it doesn’t quiet the words that grate against my brain.

“We know you’re leaving for Ohio tomorrow, so we won’t fuck you up too bad this time, pretty boy. But we’ll be watching. And waiting.”

An icy sensation snakes through my insides.

This time.

What the hell do they have planned for next time?

They let me go without much other than the threats. No real clues about why they’d cornered me in that hotel room; although, I can probably make a good guess. And even though I got in a few good punches, it wasn’t long before one of them flashed his gun in front of my face.

It has to be about my father.

Who the fuck else would come after me like that?

But if that was the case, why didn’t they take the cash I had on me? Chances are very good that the deadbeat druggie asshole gambled his way into a huge hole of debt and that they were there to collect now that I’m commanding an even heftier salary than I was in New York.

So much doesn’t make sense to me.

And going to the cops would mean exposing myself to more bullshit because there’s no way the press wouldn’t get hold of the story. The last thing I want is to expose my filthy past and have it stink up my future.

I’ll wait, too, motherfuckers.

I figured my father’d be dead by now with the kind of toxic lifestyle he had.

No such luck.

He’s still around to haunt me, even after all these years.

I grit my teeth.

Shoving me out on the street with nowhere to go because I’m gay.

He’s got some fucking nerve to come back for help after the hell he put me through.

Seconds stretch into hours that feel more like days.

At least we’re on the road for the next few games.

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