Page 23 of Pucking Forbidden

“Yeah, I know.”

“And you’re in love with Micah’s sister.”

Surprise flares in his eyes, like he still can’t believe anyone knows his shit the way he knows ours. But it’s not like it’s a secret at this point. I mean, the whole goddamn team sees the way Micah glares daggers at him. They’re barely speaking right now. I may not be all up in their business, but I’m not clueless.

“Don’t give a shit about your business, Graves,” I mutter. “I’m just making a point.”

“Which is?”

“If it’d been you, you’d have done the same thing I did to protect her.”

“Maybe.” He shrugs. “But I know Micah. He may be a pain in the ass, but he isn’t capable of some shit like that.”

“Yeah.” I shove a hand through my hair. “I know. I guess I’m asking…if it came right down to it and you were in my shoes, could you forgive everything for her sake?”

“If I were in your shoes?”

I jerk my chin in a nod.

He thinks about the question for a minute and then sighs. “There isn’t much I wouldn’t do for her sake, brother. But that’s not really what you’re asking, is it?”

Is it? Hell, I don’t know.

“She wants me to talk to him while we’re there.”

“And you don’t want to do it.”

“I’d rather plant my fucking fist in his face again,” I answer frankly, which makes Archer chuckle. “But I’m trying not to do that. For her sake.”

He considers the issue for a moment. “What he did is unforgivable as far as I’m concerned, so you don’t owe him that. But if I were in your shoes, and he wanted to talk? Yeah, I’d hear him out, not because he deserves it but because she deserves the assurance that I won’t be the thing making whatever relationship the two of you have even more complicated.”

I’m not really sure that answer helps any at all, but I nod anyway. “Thanks, man.”

“Anytime. See you on the bus.” He ducks out, leaving me standing in the locker room, alone with my thoughts. And those aren’t getting me a motherfucking place but more conflicted by the minute. So I mutter a curse and follow him out.

By the time the game rolls around, I’ve had well over twenty-four hours to think, and I still haven’t made up my mind. The simple fact is, I don’t want to talk to the prick. There’s nothing he can say that’ll ever change anything. But for Sutton’s sake, maybe I need to let him say it.

At least, that’s my plan when we hit the ice. My resolve wavers when I see him across the ice, with his team around him. He’s all smiles, no hint that his life is as fucked up as Sutton says it is. Then again, he was always a good actor, wasn’t he? He certainly had me fooled.

He glances in my direction during the National Anthem, locking eyes with me. My teeth clamp together, and I want to hit him all over again. Five fucking years, he lied to her. He let her suffer.

Maybe I do have some shit to say to him, after all.

I shove the thought from my mind when the puck drops and try like hell to focus on the game. But the goddamn Bucks are on me just like always. As soon as the puck is in my possession, Grayson comes barreling toward me, checking me into the boards hard enough to rattle my brain inside my skull.

“Fucking snitch,” he says in my ear before shoving himself off me.

I clench my hands around my stick, inhaling a deep breath. Apparently, this is going to be an even bigger shitshow than I thought…and I didn’t expect much to begin with.

“Fucking sheep,” I mutter at his back.

His laughter floats back to me.

I take hit after hit and insult after insult throughout the first period, trying like hell to keep it together. I feel Coach’s eyes on me the entire time, like he’s just waiting for me to snap and start throwing elbows. I want to do it. My fucking blood boils with the desire to rip my gloves off and slam it into someone’s face.

“You good?” Nash asks, helping me back to my feet after Jonny Limburg knocks me on my ass.

“Fuck no,” I snarl. “If we lose this game, I’m going to be pissed.”

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