Page 84 of Puck Lust

It was only a dream.

Only a?—

“Hey,” Carter whispers, rolling over to face me. “What happened? Are you okay?”

But I can’t speak. My pulse punches a hole in my throat and I lean forward with my head in my hands, my breaths raspy pants.

Carter crawls around so he’s in front of me and then he hugs me tight against him. The backs of my eyelids sting with tears. I fall against his chest, breathing in his familiar scent. It calms me, settles my soul.

“You’re good,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you.”

I squeeze him tighter in response because my God, I needed to hear that.

He silently strokes my back, his breath warm against my skin.

“It was so fucking real,” I finally mutter. “I felt everything all over again, heard everything…”

Pulling away, I see Carter’s pained expression.

“I’m here if you want to talk about it. You can trust me.”

I nod and push my hair back. “You say that.”

Carter tilts my chin up, gazing at me with concern and a little bit of fear. “I mean it.”

“Okay.” I let out a deep sigh. “One night during junior hockey, I went back to my father’s house. I’d forgottensomething, a letter my mother left me on the day she took off. It was cold, selfish. She didn’t even say she was sorry for leaving, just that she needed to get away from my father and live her own life without wondering if she was going to live or die. She obviously didn’t give a damn about what might happen to me.” I shake my head. “I’m not sure how I forgot to pack it because I always made sure to keep it with me. It was always a reminder that I was on my own and I had no choice but to make it to the NHL because there was nothing and nobody else for me.”

Sadness seeps into Carter’s gaze and he laces his fingers with mine.

“I needed that letter. It fueled me before every game and without it, I felt like I couldn’t perform. And performing was the only way I could get away from that hell I left behind. I knew I could never go back there. I had to get drafted or else…” I pick at the edging of the comforter, my eyes dropping. “Or else he’d kill me.”

Carter sucks in a breath. “Fuck,” he mutters.

“That night I went back…I found the letter. But he wouldn’t let me leave. Said I owed him or some shit. And then…” I swallow hard past the lump choking me. “He pulled out a gun. Hit me with it. When I tried to leave, he shot at me. More than once. If he’d have been sober, I probably wouldn’t be here right now.”

“Jesus, Jack,” Carter mutters. “I’m so sorry.”

I let out a humorless chuckle. “If only that was everything.”

“What do you mean?”

“I knew I had to get out and never look back. I couldn’t take the risk that hockey wouldn’t work out for me. My talent was all I had, and it had to be my future or else I wouldn’t have one. I had nowhere to go, no place to live, nobody to ask for help. It was all on me. And I…”

Carter holds my hand in between his. “Take your time. It’s okay.”

“I made a really fucking big mistake that summer,” I say. “I got my hands on PEDs—fucking steroids—and started taking them.” My heart clenches when I sneak a look at Carter.

“Why would you do that?” he asks incredulously. “You were amazing. You didn’t need that shit.”

“I didn’t believe that and I was fucking panicked that I wouldn’t get drafted without them. It was so stupid, and I wish to hell I could go back and change things.” I shrug. “Anyway, I didn’t take them long, maybe a week before I realized it was stupid to risk everything, but by then it was too late. Coach Dalton ordered a drug test and called me in when he got my results. He threatened to report me.”

“Fuck. Did that have something to do with why he was all up in your face the night of the event? Why you were so upset?”

“Oh, it gets worse,” I say. “He gave me an ultimatum. Told me there was one way for me to save my place on the team and my reputation. He…he made me—” I slowly raise my eyes toward Carter’s, the horror and disgust in his expression making bile rise in the back of my throat.

Dammit, I knew it was the wrong move to tell him all of this. He’s judging me, he doesn’t understand what I was up against, that I needed to?—

“You don’t have to say it,” he mutters, closing the distance between us as he pulls me into his arms. “I’m so fucking sorry you had to go through all of this. I…I don’t even know what to say. I feel sick that you’ve carried all of this for so long.”

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