Page 96 of Puck Lust

“Thanks,” I say in a low voice, then turn to shake Brixton’s hand. I straighten my tie. “I guess it’s showtime.”

A table is set up in the front of the room. Rex, Eli, Bob, and Coach Enver are bent over some sheets of paper. They look up when I walk inside.

And one person sits in a chair directly in front of the microphone.

My throat tightens when he turns around.

Carter’s eyes follow me as I approach the table, slicing into my chest and hammering at my heart.

“Are we ready?” I say. “Because I’d like to get this over with.”

Rex points to a couple of papers. “One last time, do you want to go forward with everything or strip out the?—?”

I hold up a hand. “I’m telling the full truth. Everything. I read over what you sent me.”

“I have it all here, just in case,” he says. “And we’ll handle the fallout, whatever it may be.” He backs away from the table. “It’s go time.”

“Yep.”

Bob, Eli, and Enver wish me luck and take their seats.

I sink into the chair behind the table as the press and spectators file into the room. Tugging at my tie, I keep my eyes on the table even though I can feel Carter’s gaze burning into my skin. It prickles and tingles and dammit, that pisses me off because he destroyed me. I hate that even now, knowing that, he can still have such an effect.

A frustrated hiss of air escapes my lips. I can do this and then I can walk away, leaving my demons behind to fucking rot. I’ll never have to look over my shoulder again or wonder if someone’s gonna drop a bomb on me that’ll incinerate my career.

It’s up to me to tell the story and set the record straight.

Rex ushers everyone into the room and silence falls over the space when he picks up the microphone.

“In light of an incident that recently took place, Jack Larson of the Oakland Raptors would like to take a few minutes to speak to you all about his role in it. He will not be taking any questions. Oakland’s team general manager and publicist are here to take your questions after the conference.”

He turns to me, his eyes pleading with me to keep it about Jeremy’s dad.

I take the microphone and pop it into the mount on the table so it’s close to my mouth. I’ve read through the statement a million times but none of it feels real or authentic. Just a lot of nice words strung together to keep me from looking really bad in the eyes of the public. But the real words swimming inmy head are a lot darker and uglier, much more real than anything the publicity teams came up with.

And that’s the story that needs to be told. The real truth. The harsh truth.

Because all of that made me who and what I am today.

Rex stands next to the table, waiting. Just like everyone else in the room.

My eyes find Carter’s for just a moment, those baby blue pools focused on me like a lifeline that, for a while, promised to pull me out of the nightmare I was living.

Now they only represent broken promises, resulting in my shattered heart.

I fold my hands in front of me and take a deep breath, focusing my gaze on the curious sea of faces in front of me.

“Thanks for coming today. I know you’ve all seen the videos of me assaulting a man. But what you don’t know is why. You may have heard some things and came up with your own theories about how I may be hot tempered, short fused, and aggressive.”

I pause. “But I’m here to explain and it goes deeper than just what you saw in that video. I’m not here to excuse the behavior, I just want you to hear my side of the story. Then maybe you’ll form new opinions.”

Adjusting the microphone, I clear my throat. “I grew up in an abusive household. My mother took off when I was young and my father is a violent alcoholic who beat me for years. He also tried to kill me the last time I left my childhood home. At the time, I was playing junior hockey. I was desperate and knew my only chance to survive was to make it in professional hockey. It was all I had. So I made a mistake and took PEDs, performance enhancing drugs. I needed to be the best and felt they could help me get ahead so I’d never have to look back at the hell I came from. After a surprise drug test, my coach, AlexDalton, blackmailed me with the results. He forced me to do things, sexual things, so he’d keep his mouth shut about my drug usage.”

I pause for a second and look around the room. Eyes that were judgmental and accusatory upon entering are now shocked and sympathetic.

“Recently, Coach Dalton threatened me about the situation, reminding me of all I have to lose if I tell anyone about what happened a few years ago. It was only then that I’d heard he extorted other players as well and that he’s being brought up on sexual assault charges.”

I drum my fingertips on the top of the table. “You may be asking yourselves why I’m telling you all of this. I can tell you that it’s not to save myself. I made mistakes, from taking the drugs to assaulting that man. And I deserve to face the consequences. But everything I just told you stemmed from my past, what I grew up with and was forced to face every day until I was kicked out of my house and shot at by the one person who was supposed to love me and accept me, no matter what. My past guided my decisions, and I don’t excuse them at all. I attacked that man because I was triggered by things I witnessed, things I experienced myself living with an abusive parent. I believed he hurt his son and I was trying to help the kid because nobody paid enough attention to help me. I didn’t want him to suffer the way I did.”

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