Page 11 of Pucked Up

Being team captain, I was obligated to attend this meeting, and I would have dragged Tucker and Ford in with me, but Ford was sleeping off a whiskey hangover, and Tucker was still recovering from Vegas. So I had to deal with it alone, and I wasn’t going to be in a good mood about it.

I didn’t begrudge my friends their issues, but it would have been nice to have some kind of backup. Still, their issues were a whole basket of bullshit I did not feel like dealing with. I loved both of my friends beyond all reason, but they made shitty choices, almost like it was their job. Ford was quick to call them out, but he wasn’t quick to change his behavior patterns.

And when push came to shove, Ford was more than willing to let us bury ourselves in order to keep the peace.

I’d begged him to convince Tucker not to go to that damn bachelor party. His shit-for-brains twin had put him through enough, and frankly, if I everhad the privilege of meeting Killian face-to-face, I’d make sure there were more reasons for them not to look identical when I was through with him.

It was a quiet, unspoken fantasy of mine.

Tucker had been through more than I ever wanted to think about, and the fact that his own twin had run off with his fiancée was…God, it wasn’t worth thinking about most days. But that was just one more thing that drove me up the wall.

I hated not being in control.

It was why I was now working my tiny little ass off and pulling every string I could that did not involve my father to get one of the PPHL scouts to come to our games. I wanted out. I wanted to wear a C on my chest on a team that mattered to the world of professional sports.

For most of the guys on the Wolves, this was a coping strategy. It was a way to meet other disabled dudes and deal with the way their lives had changed. That was not me. I was born this way. This had been my reality from my first struggling breath.

I wasn’t here to make friends. I was here to make a name for myself.

Nothing I did—no trophy I won or cup I hoisted—would ever make my father proud the way I wanted him to be, but maybe that pride would be enough for me.

“Look what the rabid dog dragged in,” came a voice from the doorway. I glanced over to see Jacob’s brother walking in. Journey was an absolute and complete prick.

And he was also one of the few people in my social circle that I’d fucked more than once. He was supposed to be a silent partner for the Wolves, so seeing him there that morning was annoying as hell. He and Jacob had gone in together to purchase our team, along with three others, and last I’d heard, Journey was bidding to buy out the Legends.

They were the para-professional blind hockey team in Turenne. The one our best friend Jonah played for. But the last thing I needed was for Journey to get involved in the world of professional sports. The man needed to find better ways to spend his money.

And that feeling doubled when he smirked at me. God, I wanted to slap that look off his face.

“Don’t you have anything better to do with your day?” I asked.

He sat next to me and rested his elbows on the table, folding his hands under his chin. “Miss me? If you’re bored after this, we could go mess up a couple of equipment closets.”

“I would rather shove a hot poker up my asshole.”

“You didn’t do well with the ice cube. I don’t think hot pokers are the way to go,” he said.

Jacob choked, and I reached over, smacking Journey on the arm. He winced, and I grinned. “I will rearrange your face. I can give you a couple of nice gaps in those veneers with a single punch.”

“Boys,” Jacob said tiredly. “Please don’t embarrass me in front of my friends.”

“What friends?” Journey and I both asked at the same time.

He smiled. I didn’t.

The door opened, saving us from any more bullshit. Journey was immediately on his feet, blocking my view of the two men who had just walked in, and since I knew no one was going to introduce me until the meeting began, I dug my phone out of my pocket and began to type out a text to Tucker.

Me: Meeting sucks. Journey is here. I can’t wait until I never have to see his face again. How are you feeling?

Tucker: I’m watching kitten videos. There’s one where he keeps falling asleep in his water dish. I want a kitten.

Me: Absolutely not. I’d get stuck doing the litterbox.

Tucker: I’ll be your best friend for life.

Me: Unfortunately you already are. No kittens.

I set my phone down, looked up, then nearly choked on my tongue. Journey had moved to the side where the little coffee station was set up. He was talking to a man I vaguely recognized as the guy who owned the rink.

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