Page 98 of Dirty Puck

“What’s it to you? My business is my own.”

“Your own? That’s not how friendship works. I showed up to check in on you—like a friend does—and there’s a damn moving truck in your driveway and your front door wide open. Claudia told me they were leaving. And Ithought,This can’t be right, so I called up Jayce to see if she’d heard anything from Bree. Nothing. I hung up with my wife and she called me back a half hour later telling me that you two broke up and Bree was moving back to her apartment. What the actual fuck? Please tell me you didn’t do something stupid.”

I stiffened. “It’s not like that. Sometimes relationships end. It’s life.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” His voice dropped, not in volume but weight. “You made her feel safe. Do you know how precious that is? And now you’re just sending her packing like she’s a damn rental?”

My pulse thudded. “You don’t know what’s going on?—”

“Then tell me!” He shoved his hand through his hair, frustration pouring off him. “Because from where I’m standing? It looks like you’re making the biggest mistake of your life. And dragging her through it.”

I tried to keep my voice steady. Fuck, where did he get off telling me how to live my life? “Living together was never supposed to be permanent. She did it to help me with Ma. I like my space.”

Bishop’s lip curled. “Youlikeyourspace?”

“You know what? Fuck you. I don’t owe you any explanations. It’s done. She’s out. Deal with it.”

“She’s out? Not just back at her place, but you broke it off completely.” It wasn’t a question. He understood exactly what I was saying. Yes, it made me an asshole. I pushed her away. Lying to myself was never a good look, so I didn’t plan to start it now. I’d known what I was doing. A spineless lowlife who didn’t have the guts to tell her how I was feeling. Embarrassed that she’d seen me at my lowest. Ashamed that I took the easy way out.

Elyssa hurt me. Not Bree. And still I took it out on her by doubling down on our arrangement instead of asking her to stay.

I looked away, jaw tightening. The locker room had gone quiet around us. Even Jones was watching from across the room with his stick paused mid-tape.

“Bree’s been through hell, man,” Bishop said, softer now but still sharp. “She didn’t deserve it the first time. She sure as hell doesn’t deserve it from you.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” he shot back. “Because if you love her?—”

“I never said I loved her.”

Bishop shook his head. “That’s the lie you’re going with now? Like the rest of us don’t have eyes. You’re a great goalie, but swear to God, if you’re that good of an actor, then you should be in Hollywood.”

“Listen,” I tried to get him to calm down. “I get what you’re saying, but it’s just over.”

“And Benny? You good with dumping him too?”

“He’s not my kid.” I felt the hit of those words deep, right in the chest. Guilt coiled tight and hot. I wanted Benny around. I wanted Claudia around. I fucking wanted Bree to hold me while we slept and to wake up next to her. But these were the rules of the contract thatIset down. What would admitting that I loved her change? I pushed her away. Life got tough and I pushed her away to keep myself from getting hurt again, when I should’ve been holding on tight. But it turned out I didn’t need her to hurt me. I’d done such a great job of that all on my own.

Bishop crossed his arms. “That is the stupidest thing I think I’ve ever heard you say.” He turned to go, then paused, glancing back at me over his shoulder. “One of two things is going to happen here. That beautiful soul is either going to spend her life alone or some other man will be playing husband and a father toyourfamily. Better decide if you really want that.”

Then he walked out, leaving me with the sting of truthand the sound of my heartbeat thudding against ribs that had just been cracked wide open.

By the time I hit the ice, the air in the rink felt heavier than usual. Practice hadn’t even officially started and already, I could feel eyes on me—sharp, unforgiving, like pucks ready to fly. I took my spot in the crease, dropped into position, and tried to shake off the conversation with Bishop. But the silence in the rink wasn’t normal. It was loaded. Charged.

Coach blew the whistle, and the drills started. At first, it was nothing unusual. A warm-up skate, a couple of routine shots.

Then Jones came at me.

No warning. Just a missile slapshot that came screaming in at my left shoulder. I barely got the pad up in time.

“Watch it,” I barked, glaring at him through the cage.

He skated past like he hadn’t heard me. “Sorry, thought you could take it. Maybe I was wrong.”

Before I could fire back, Bishop and Bonner lined up for a two-on-one. They weren’t going easy.

“Light him up,” Antonov shouted to Bishop from his place on the defensive line, loud enough for me to hear. Hell, loud enough for everyone to hear.

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