Pucked Off (The Pucked Series) Page 3

  Decision made, we slipped through the broken fence and down an alleyway. It was dank and dark and smelled like urine. We were halfway through when four guys appeared out of the shadows. They were older—I couldn’t tell how old—maybe in high school still, maybe beyond that.

  My heart kicked up a notch, and Quinn sucked in a breath as I moved him behind me. There were too many of them for me to protect him.

  They circled us. Taunting. We had money. We wore it in expensive rucksacks and nice clothes. They wanted what we had. Quinn got mouthy, which he only ever did in my presence, and when they tried to take his rucksack his books fell out, scattering over the ground, so I pushed one of them.

  And that’s when everything changed. The sharp sting of something hard hit me in the back. And then again and again. I knew what it was: rocks in socks. Fill an old sock with rocks and it becomes a violent, effective weapon.

  I covered my head and spun, searching for Quinn, who was screaming.

  The sound cut short when one of the teenagers’ makeshift weapons slammed into his temple.

  Quinn’s mouth was open, and his eyes were suddenly blank as his body swayed and crumpled to the ground.

  Sirens wailed like crying babies in the distance. The teenagers shouted and swore and disappeared like vapor.

  I shook my brother, blood dripping from his temple. I screamed his name, but his eyes were vacant.

  He was gone. And it was my fault.

  “Lance? Buddy?”

  I rub my eyes to black out the memories and hiss at the pain in my right one. I look up to find Randy standing at the door of the room in pajama pants and a wrinkled T-shirt.

  His eyes go wide as he takes in my face. “What the fuck happened to you?”

  I push up out of the chair and bite back my groan. I’m already sore, and it’s only been a few hours. “I’ll explain in the car.”

  We don’t talk in the elevator.

  “Wiener’s in the truck,” Randy says as we cross the parking lot.

  It takes me a few seconds to process that. “Miller and Sunny’s dog?”

  “Yeah, we’re watching him for a few days ’cause he’s making it difficult for Sunny to sleep. If I didn’t take him, he would’ve whined at the door until I got back and kept Lily up. She’s gotta skate first thing in the morning.”

  “Shit. Did I wake her?”

  “Nah, she had a busy day. She was KO’d when I left.” The truck beeps as he unlocks it.

  I open the passenger door and Wiener barks at me, then runs to the other side like he’s never seen me before. Wiener is a wiener dog, hence the name. Miller and Sunny have been fostering him for awhile, and Randy and Lily have taken him for sleepovers or whatever. It’s like training wheels for kids, I guess. The thing is freaking skittish.

  Climbing into the truck hurts. And it’s only going to get worse, which isn’t great since we have skate practice tomorrow afternoon in preparation for next week’s final exhibition game before the season. I buckle up as Randy turns over the ignition and talks to his dog as if it’s a person.

  “So, you wanna tell me what happened that I’m picking you up at the hospital in the middle of the night all beat to shit?” Randy asks.

  “Tash happened.”

  He pauses with his hand on the gearshift. “Tash did this to you?”

  “No. Tash didn’t do this.” I motion to my face. “She’s what happened tonight that resulted in this bullshit.”

  “You’re gonna explain that so it makes sense, right?”

  “Tash is in town. She wanted to see me.”

  “Again? Wasn’t she just here a few weeks ago?”

  “She came back. As she does.”

  Randy knows I’m not good at saying no to her. “Ah, man. You should’ve called. You could’ve come over. Or I would’ve gone for beers with you or something.”

  “You had a night planned with Lily.”

  “We were just watching a movie. It wasn’t a big thing.”

  “The season’s starting soon. I’m not going to interfere with your time with her.” Especially not since his dad blew in and out of town not long ago and that sure as fuck didn’t go well. I think he might still be repairing the damage.

  “Lily would’ve understood.”

  Wiener turns around three times beside me and settles his butt against my leg. I know better than to pet him right away or we’ll have to go through the whole barking-skittish thing again.

  “Maybe, but I don’t want to be the friend who’s a problem.”

  “You’re not a problem, Romance.” Randy taps his steering wheel. “So I’m guessing things with Tash didn’t go well?”

  “Nope.”

  “What happened?”

  “Just the usual bullshit. Me wanting things I shouldn’t, expecting it to be different when it never is.”

  Randy doesn’t know how things go down between me and Tash. He has a vague understanding that I wanted more out of it than she did, and that’s about it. As far as most of the team is concerned, I’m the asshole because we were fucking in the gym locker room and got caught, resulting in Tash’s termination from her job as team trainer. The real story behind that scenario isn’t quite so straightforward.

  “What happened that your face ended up being used as a punching bag?”

  “I went to a bar, and some chick recognized me. She and her friend propositioned me, and one of them had a boyfriend she failed to mention. He showed up and got all aggressive, and I stepped in the middle to make sure she didn’t get a fist in her face.”

  It’s the abridged version. Randy doesn’t need to know the less-than-flattering details. He’s aware of what I’m like when I’m in a bad mood, especially after I’ve seen Tash.

  “Jesus.”

  “Pretty sure he wasn’t looking to save me based on the state of my face.” I close my eyes. My head hurts. I can’t tell if it’s from the concussion or the whiskey, or both.

  Wiener nudges my hand, which is his way of telling me he’s ready for pets. I scratch his head, but keep my eyes closed. I’m so tired of everything.

  Randy nudges my shoulder. “’Kay, man, we’re home.”

  I crack a lid, disoriented until I realize I’ve fallen asleep and we’re parked in Randy’s driveway. “You brought me to your place?”

  “You have a concussion. You gotta be woken up every two hours.”

  “It’s mild. I’m fine.”

  Randy strokes his beard. “And if Tash calls again?”

  “She’s not gonna call again.”

  “You sure about that?

  “If she does I won’t answer.”

  That’s bullshit and we both know it—especially after a night like this. My phone’s full of messages from her, waiting for a reply.

  “That’s what you said last time, and look where that’s gotten you. I don’t know why she’s got such a hold on you, man, but you need to get her out of your life. She’s fucking toxic. You gotta cut her out like cancer.”

  “I know, man.” I tap my temple. “She just gets in here, and I can’t get her out.” And sometimes I want her there, because the pain she causes is something I understand.

  Wiener lets me pick him up and carry him into the house. Randy’s place is nice, in a nice part of town, but it’s not reflective of the money he makes. He could live in a monster house if he wanted. Instead he lives in a very reasonable house.

  “The spare room’s already made up.” He leads me down the hall and shows me where the towels and stuff are. “I’ll be back in two hours to make sure you’re still alive.”

  “Thanks for coming to get me.”

  “It’s no problem. Get some rest. You need to be on it for practice tomorrow.”

  He leaves me alone in the spare room. I go to the bathroom and check out my face. It’s beat up. I took a couple solid shots to the ribs, and being slammed into the table definitely didn’t feel good. I brush my teeth and spit out a lot of pink thanks to the lacerations in my mouth.

>   I pop a couple of aspirin and lie down. My phone still goes off every once in a while. I should turn it off and leave it until the morning—or longer. But I don’t. Instead I hit the button and the screen lights up.

  In addition to the thirty text messages, I have three voicemails from Tash. All in just a few short hours. I don’t have the energy to deal with them, and if I check them, I’ll end up calling her back. Then she’ll come here, and then I’ll do something I’ll regret even more than not fucking her, so I finally turn my phone off. Only about seven hours too late.

  Randy’s right. I need to get her out of my life, or she’s going to put more than my career in jeopardy again.

  “Lance?” Fingers poke at my shoulder, followed by snapping close to my ear and a familiar female voice. “Lance, can you hear me?”

  I grunt and roll over, but that hurts, a lot, so I roll back the other way.

  “Sorry, buddy, I know you want to sleep. I just need confirmation that you know who I am and where you are and then you can go right back to dreamland.”

  Randy’s girlfriend, Lily, pries my eyelid open.

  I bat her hand away from my face. “Fuck! I’m awake. Jesus.”

  “Such a sweet mouth you have. You’re welcome for making sure you’re not brain dead.”

  An image of my brother’s vacant eyes appears behind my lids. I cover my eyes with my forearm, hissing when I hit my eyebrow. The pain erases the memory.

  “I have aspirin and water for you, both of which you could use, judging from the state of your face.”

  I peek out from under my arm. “Why’re you so nice?”

  Lily snorts. “Probably because Randy gives me at least one orgasm a day.”

  I cringe. I already know those two get it on all the time; I don’t need additional confirmation. Not so long ago, Randy spent a lot of time partying with me, but not so much since he and Lily got serious.

  “I think you’re spending too much time with Violet.”

  Violet is my team captain’s wife. I married them while we were in Vegas a few months back, because I happen to be ordained. I did it a few years ago, when a friend needed a favor. I did it over the internet, but it’s legitimate. I never actually thought it would come in handy again.

  “That’s also probably true.” She passes me a glass and sets the pills on the comforter. “Randy’ll be your next wake-up call. I’ll be back around noon.”

  “I’ll definitely be gone by then.”

  “Don’t worry about it if you’re not.”

  I down the pills and the water as she closes the door behind her. I’m exhausted. I close my eyes, trying to find the will to pry them open again and get out of my friend’s house before the next two-hour block passes. That’s not what happens.

  I must pass out hard again, because the next time I remember anything, Lily’s waking me up to tell me I have practice in a couple of hours. Randy’s already gone because he had a meeting with his agent.

  Our last preseason game is this weekend. It doesn’t matter how shitty I feel; I have to be on the ice today. I throw the covers off and hit the bathroom. I’ve been out for a lot of hours, but the sleep hasn’t done anything to offset the myriad aches in my body. If anything, they’ve multiplied.

  I turn on the water and strip off my shirt and pants. I must’ve left my boxers in Tash’s hotel room. I hope she’s gone already like she said she would be in her messages yesterday.

  I’m quick about showering. I still have to get my car—which is at some bar on the south side from what I recall—and stop at my place before practice. It isn’t until I’m drying off that I get a good look at the damage I sustained last night. It’s no wonder I feel like I’ve taken up a second career as an MMA fighter.

  Beyond the fly bandage on my left eyebrow and the corresponding black eye and split lip, I have bruises along my ribs and lower back. There are a few on my legs as well.

  I put my jeans back on, but my shirt has blood on it—most likely mine. I’d prefer not to drive by that bar wearing it, so I open the door, ready to find Lily so I can ask about borrowing something of Randy’s.

  Wiener’s sitting outside my door. He barks and scampers off in the direction of Lily and Randy’s room. At my feet is a pair of dark-wash jeans, boxers, and a fresh T-shirt. She’s also left me deodorant and more aspirin. I’m grateful for the thoughtfulness. I don’t want to be shirtless in Randy’s house, alone with his girlfriend.

  My reputation is an issue. I’d never go after one of my teammate’s girls, but I don’t want to make Lily uncomfortable, or give Randy a reason to mistrust me around her. It’s better to avoid those kinds of situations altogether.

  I pick up what’s been left for me, but before I can disappear back into the guest room, Lily steps into the hall from her bedroom, Wiener running around her feet. She’s dragging a brush through her chin-length black hair.

  “Oh. You got the—” She scans my torso, then reaches out like she’s considering touching me, but thinks better of it. “Oh, God. Are you okay?”

  “It looks worse than it is. It’s just bruises for the most part. Thanks for these.” I nod to the clothes I’m holding, step back into the room, and close the door with Lily still staring.

  I change into Randy’s clothes. He’s a little narrower, so the jeans are snugger than I’m used to, but at least they’re clean and don’t smell like a bar—or have any blood on them. I probably should’ve pressed charges, but being drunk didn’t help my cause last night. Neither did being in the hospital.

  I’m careful pulling the shirt over my split eyebrow. It’s tight on my arms and across my chest, but it’ll do until I get home.

  Once I’m dressed, I fold up my clothes and make the bed, even though I’m sure they’ll be changing the sheets after I leave. I hear noise coming from the kitchen, so I follow the sound.

  The smell of food cooking hits me as I round the corner. “Thanks for the hospitality. I’m gonna grab a cab and head out.”

  Lily looks up from the stove. “You don’t need to do that. I don’t have to work this afternoon. I can drive you wherever you need to go.”

  “You’ve already done more than enough.”

  “Well, I’m making grilled cheese, and two of these are for you, so you have to stay now, or it’d be rude.”

  I lean against the doorjamb. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  She props a fist on her hip and points her spatula at me. “You’re part of Randy’s team, and you’re his friend. That makes you like family. There’s coffee on, and there’s cream in the fridge if you want it. You can’t go to practice without eating.”

  She’s so matter of fact about it, like it’s nothing that she’s making me something to eat. I pour a coffee for myself and search the cupboards until I find plates. Then I get the ketchup from the fridge and find dill pickle spears at the back of one of the shelves.

  I set everything out on the kitchen island, leaving a stool between us so we’re not sitting right next to each other. Lily sets a plate in front of me. Cheese oozes out of the middle of the sandwiches she’s cut in half.

  “Sorry they’re a little messy. Randy has a hard time keeping weight on when the season starts, and, well, that’s the story of my life, so I go a little overboard with the cheese. I hope this is okay.”

  My throat closes like I’m being choked, like my body is preparing for a backhand to go with her kindness. But it doesn’t come. All there is is a plate in front of me with two golden, gooey sandwiches and my friend’s girlfriend looking apologetic for going out of her way to help me.

  For a second I’m jealous of what Randy and Lily have. I try to imagine Tash doing something like this for me, but I can’t. I don’t think it’s in her to care about people this way. It was always just about her, and what she wanted. And that was never really me.

  Lily sits in the place I’ve set for her. She squirts an ungodly amount of ketchup on her plate, dips the corner of her sandwich, and takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully
.

  “When I was growing up, we only had plastic cheese slices, but I’d go to Sunny’s house and her mom always made grilled cheese with Gouda or Swiss. There were always globs of melted cheese on my plate at the end. Even though it was messy, I loved it so much. I loved the ones my mom made for me too, but God, it was like cheese magic at the Waters’ house.”

  “Sounds pretty awesome.” Waters has known Lily his entire life. His sister is her best friend. They’re close like family should be. I don’t have those kinds of memories from my childhood, even though it was a privileged one. After my brother died, everything good fell apart.

  Before Lily takes another bite she asks, “Did your mom ever make you grilled cheese?”

  I shake my head. “Nah.” My mother never would’ve done anything like cook. “My nanny did, though. We had grilled cheese and onion sandwiches.”

  Lily pulls a face. “Cheese and onion?”

  “It’s really good.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  We eat in silence for a few minutes. It’s been ages since someone made me something to eat who wasn’t paid to do it.

  Lily pauses with her sandwich. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure. I might not answer it, though.”

  “Why does that not surprise me in the least?”

  I’ve learned how to avoid or fabricate when necessary to protect myself. My entire life has been a lie. A glossy, dressed-up lie. My mother is the kind of beautiful people carve into stone, but inside she’s ugly—like most people seem to be. I don’t think Lily fits into that category, though.

  She gestures to my face. “Why do you let Tash do this to you?”

  “Tash didn’t do this; some pissed-off juicer with a God complex did.”

  Lily dips her sandwich in the ketchup again. For someone as small as she is, she sure can pack it away. “Before I met Randy, I dated this guy Benji for seven years.”

  Tash was probably my longest relationship, if I can even call it that. It was never monogamous. She made sure of that. There was a girl I dated my sophomore year of high school, but I was young, and even then I couldn’t handle getting close to people, so while it went on for a couple of months, it never felt like anything real.