Page 114 of Hot Puck
I told her I want the baby.
I told her I love her.
And she never said it back.
“Well, fudge sticks.”
Gannon laughs next to me. “No kids to worry about here.”
“If I don’t do it all the time, including in my head, I slip. And the last thing I need is for Candace’s first word to be fuck.” I grimace. “Fudge! Fudge! Fudge! Fudge!”
Gannon’s laughter rings out drawing the attention of Coach Alcott and Russell Young, who are in the back of this truck with us. There are four of us in each truck bed. We’re on the final stretch of road leading to the Arena where the Rogues’ org has put together the party of all parties.
It’s like the fan barbecue from earlier in the season except the parking lot is filled with carnival rides. Temporary fencing has been erected and there’s security at every entry point because the org isn’t taking any chance something might go wrong or get out of hand.
The ring of a phone has all of us reaching for our pockets. It’s Gannon who comes up with the call.
Frowning, he looks up and says, “It’s a New York number.”
“Shelby?” Coach Alcott moves over to our side of the truck.
“No. Her number is programed in.”
“Answer it,” I say.
“Nah.” He shoves the phone back in his pocket. “If it’s important, they’ll call back.”
The truck pulls to a stop outside the entrance players will use to enter the arena and we all jump out as Gannon’s phone goes off again.
Glancing over I say, “Looks like it is important.”
“Yeah. Okay.” Bringing the phone to his ear, he says, “Hello,” as we make our way between the two security guards at the open door to the Rogue Arena. “Yeah, this is Gannon Byrd.”
I can’t hear the other side of the conversation but when Gannon stops and says in a shaky voice, “Say that again,” I stop and wait.
His gaze is on mine, the look in his eyes one I recognize. Whatever is being said in his ear is not good. The worst kind of not good.
“Where?” he chokes out. “I can be there in a few hours but if you need anything before that, permission, whatever, call me. I’ll have my phone on.”
I glance at Coach who is studying Gannon intently.
When he hangs up, I take a step toward. “What’s going?—”
“My wife.” He swallows. “My wife. She’s in the hospital. She’s been assaulted.”
“Wife! What fucking wife?” Coach grabs the front of Gannon’s shirt and lifts him onto his toes. “Since when do you have a wife?”
I don’t understand the anger Coach is directing at Gannon but I’m not about to let them come to blows in the hallway. Not when Gannon has just received the worst news.
We’re surrounded by more players now, the trucks behind us arriving at the arena. I grab Coach, and Russell steps between him and Gannon.
“When the fuck did you get married, asshole?!”
“I...” Gannon shakes his head. “I have to go. I need to get to her.”
“The fuck you do. What about Shelby? Huh? What about my sister, you two-timing prick? Does she know you got married?”
I glance over at Gannon, and I know before he says anything the next words out of his mouth are not going to be what Coach expects to hear.
