Page 26 of Pucking Forbidden

"We ask because we care," he murmurs, his eyes on me. "And we ask because we want to know if we're playing nice or starting a riot. Either way, we've got your back, fucker. Get your shit on. It's time to hit the ice."

"Jesus Christ," I mutter, glancing between the two of them, only to realize they’re dead serious. If I asked, they’d start a riot on the ice tonight, for no reason other than that I’m one of theirs. A teammate…and a friend.

I sit quietly for a minute, humbled in a way that feels really fucking good. This is loyalty. This is respect.

"We're playing nice," I say, grabbing my shit from the bench. Not for Jamison’s sake. Surprisingly, not for Sutton’s either. But for mine. Because it’s time to move past it.

It’s time to talk to this prick.

Somehow, we manage to rally after the first period and tie up the game. Grayson and his goons lay off, and we pull out a win in the second overtime when Archer nets a backhand goal. By the time I finish showering, I feel good. Better than I have all day.

My hands shake as I pick up my cell, shooting a text to a number I never thought I’d use again.

Me: We need to talk. Hallway. Five minutes.

It doesn’t even take thirty seconds before he responds.

Jamison: On my way.

I take a few minutes to pack my shit up, letting my teammates loud ass voices wash over me. Diego is in rare form, dancing around like a jackass, annoying the fuck out of everyone.

I slip out into the hallway, passing by Logan and his girl, who are talking right outside the door.

I stop at the end of the hall nearest to the Bucks locker room, waiting for Jamison. He appears sixty seconds after I do, sauntering toward me like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

I inhale a breath, reaching deep for patience.

He watches me like he did all game, and I briefly wonder if he knows about me and Sutton. If he ever realized that I was in love with her back then, or if he was so blinded by jealousy that he really convinced himself that I wanted his girlfriend.

He stops in front of me, hands shoved in his pockets. “Hey. How have you been?”

“Don’t act like you care now, motherfucker,” I say. What? I said I’d talk to him. I didn’t say I’d be fucking nice about it, not when he’s playing in my face, acting like he gives a shit.

Nash and Logan spot us and hurry down the hall, stopping a few steps away, as if to make sure he doesn’t pull any bullshit. I appreciate the hell out of them for it because I don’t trust this asshole at all.

“I always cared, Jordan.”

Logan snorts loudly, earning a frustrated look from Jamison.

“No. You cared about your goddamn career,” I say. “It’s exactly why you convinced the whole team to tell management that I was making it up.”

“Jesus Christ,” Nash mutters.

Jamison grits his teeth when he hears him, but he doesn’t turn around and say anything. “It didn’t have to be that way, man.”

“Youmade it that way! You concocted a whole bullshit story about me fucking your girlfriend just to cover your tracks.”

“I know,” he sighs. “I fucked up.”

“Yeah, you did. You regret it?”

“Of course I do!”

“But not badly enough to tell your sister the whole truth, right? You told her you lied about what happened, but you damn sure didn’t admit that you filmed her best friend without consent and shared the videos with the team. You sent her to me to do the dirty work for you, and I’m guessing you did it because you knew I wouldn’t fucking tell her.”

“Sutton doesn’t have anything to do with this,” he says.

“She has everything to do with it,” I snap. “Vanessa was her best friend.” I stare at him like he’s a bug. “Do you even fucking care that you cost her that friendship? Vanessa hasn’t talked to her in years because of you, and she still doesn’t know why. She’s still hurting over it.”

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