Page 73 of Puck Lust

“Uhh…not really. I usually try to avoid it because Brixton is a tool.”

“Is it weird that he asked us to have dinner after a game?”

I roll my eyes. “Eh, he was probably just making conversation. I doubt it’ll ever happen.”

“Then why would he say it? Unless he wanted to hang out?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Sam’s on his case to be less of an asshole?”

Carter glances out at the sidewalk and bites his lip.

“What’s wrong?”

He nods toward the window. “Seriously, what’s with all the photographers?”

“Dude, what’s up with you today?” I give my head a shake. “I already told you. Brixton is here. The place is usually crawling with paparazzi when he shows up.”

“And they’re not here for any other reason?”

“Any other reason likewhat?”

He lets out a huff and cracks his neck. “I just…I wasn’t sure if they might be looking for something else.”

“I don’t understand what else they could be?—”

But out of the corner of my eye, I see the door open, and whatever words I was going to say die on my lips.

Jeremy steps inside, followed by his father who has a scornful expression on his face.

And the kid…

My throat tightens.

He’s limping.

All the adrenaline in my body rushes to my fists.

“Jack?” Carter asks.

But the sound of my name is muffled, like I’m hearing it from the inside of a tunnel.

Fury snakes through me and I turn away from Carter, slowly creeping toward Jeremy and his father. My pulse jumps into my throat, hammering a hole into it, fists clenched tight at my sides.

“Don’t do it,” Carter says. “Jack, don’t?—”

Then the fuck head does the unthinkable and shoves Jeremy.

Shoves him.

When he’s already limping, likely from an injury his bastard of afathergave him.

Jeremy stumbles forward, his sneaker skidding on the tile floor.

A deep red haze settles over the world in front of me.

I don’t think.

I just lunge.

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