Page 7 of Puck Lust

“None of the guys need a spotlight shining on them for validation,” I say. “We play as a team. No one person is more important than another. Maybe the Renegades were cool with you stealing the show, but other teams play for the collective win.”

“And since you obviously didn’t have too many of those when you were with the Washington Panthers,” he says. “Maybe you should change up your strategy.”

I shake my head, a sharp laugh escaping my lips. “For the life of me, I can’t imagine why Sam Hartley chose Brixton Scott over you,” I spew, sarcasm dripping from my words. “That must’ve stung, huh? I know how much you like your picture tobe slathered all over the news.” With a shrug, I force my lips upward. “But who knows? You keep fucking up like you did tonight, and I guarantee the press will have your mug all over the place.”

“Green isn’t your best color, Van Kleef. You really should find a new one.” His narrowed eyes cloud over, the smirk dropping from his lips. “And don’t talk shit about things you don’t understand. My personal life is none of your goddamn business. Just because we’re teammates doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

“No, you made sure of that a long time ago, didn’t you?” I growl.

He stiffens. “Maybe you should get a life of your own instead of worrying so much about mine.”

“As if I give a crap about what you do off the ice.”

Something swirls in the air around me, making my heart thump hard and heavy in my chest. I manage to squeeze out my next words, my throat tight. “You’re not a god, much as you want to believe you are.”

“I think you should shut the hell up now before you say something I’m gonna make you regret.” Jack edges closer, his eyes taking on a menacing glare.

My temples throb. His look is meant to ward me off but somehow, it has the opposite effect. A faint ringing sound echoes in my ears. I dig my stick into the concrete floor, trying to grab onto the thoughts blasting through my mind.

What. The. Hell?

Jack’s chest practically grazes mine and my mind suddenly blanks out for a brief second, all of the toxic thoughts I’ve had, the words I’ve imagined saying fizzling to white noise. The collar of my jersey clings to my skin, sucking it tight like a noose.

“The whole world doesn’t live in your shadow, Larson,” Irasp when my mouth finally decides to wake up. “You think you’re untouchable because you’re a star. But your star is starting to dim. And when it goes dark, nobody will give a shit about you anymore. You’ll have nothing.”

And with that last word, I turn and leave becausefuck him.

THREE

jack

“You’ll have nothing.”

The words I fear most in the world. And judging from my play tonight, I’m damn close to that now.

Hockey is the one thing that keeps me going. The only thing.

Not that Carter knows it. Nobody does because I never let anyone in that far.

I watch him stalk down the corridor in the direction of the locker room, his back stiff. He angrily rakes a hand through his hair. Sweat prickles the skin on the back of my neck, heart freefalling into my skates as a deep sigh rattles my chest.

It was stupid of me to think Carter would just ignore the elephant in the room when we showed up here in Oakland together. Once I started my professional career and put my junior hockey days behind me, I figured the past would stay there.

Looks like I made a damn big mistake accepting this offer. But the truth is, I’d felt so isolated after Sam and I broke things off. New York never felt like home, and I didn’t connect with the team the way I’d hoped. They all thought I was stealing thespotlight from them. They didn’t understand that without it, I had absolutely nothing.

I’m not a fame jockey. I didn’t crave the fame and accolades to feed my ego or make myself feel like I was better than everyone else.

I needed it to feel like at least someone out there gave a shit about me.

And hockey was always the only means to that end for me.

Stardom meant I could escape my shithole childhood home, my abusive father, and the constant reminder that my mother didn’t give a crap enough to protect me from him.

So I did everything I could to make sure the focus was on me and me alone. It was a one-way ticket out of the hell I’d managed to survive for the first seventeen years of my life.

I’m not proud of the fact that I bulldozed teammates to make myself look better. I made a lot of enemies in the process, Van Kleef included.

He saw through my mask and I lashed out because I misread his concern for something else. Something I wanted badly. Something I quickly realized I’d never have.

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