Puck & Make Up (A Rush Hockey #7)

Chapter 1

One

Fox

I want to rinse my eyes out with acid.

Then gouge them from their sockets with a spoon.

Because—

I gag.

I had been worried about my best friend—and teammate—Joel, who spent the afternoon in a meeting with management of the Rush Hockey team we both play for.

He was thinking this might be it.

That they weren’t going to renew his contract.

That this was going to be the end of his career.

Something I was feeling more than a little guilty about.

Because I’d just gotten the best news.

I’m getting a contract to the big leagues.

Not the Gold as I’d expected, but the Grizzlies—one of the newest teams in the league. Still local. Still fucking awesome. Still everything I’ve always wanted. Only…my news was tempered by concern for my friend.

Would he be done?

Would he be okay with being done?

So, when I ran into Joel’s girlfriend, Billie Rose—or Rosie as we all call her—and saw the look in her eyes when she came into Monroe’s, looking for Joel after his meeting…

I couldn’t shake the feeling that it had all gone wrong.

So, I texted.

But she didn’t reply.

Neither had Joel.

Or picked up any of my calls.

And trouble follows those two like it’s a goddamned note taped to each of their backs.

So…I went to their house, intending to take a peek inside, to make sure they connected and were both okay.

And—

I shudder.

Well, I sure as shit had gotten my peek .

And more.

Much more.

I gag again, shake myself, and keep making my way along the tree line.

Keep making my way through the trees, to the spot I need to check.

Because there’s another reason I’m on this side of town, another reason I’m well away from my apartment in downtown River’s Bend.

An apartment I just broke my lease on because I’m going to the Grizzlies.

Finally, I’m getting a contract.

Finally, I’m going to consistently play at the highest level of hockey possible.

Just…not tonight.

Tonight I’m dealing with acid-filled eyes and spoons made for gouging and a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach that has nothing to do with walking in on my friends fucking.

With handcuffs.

Another shudder.

“Focus,” I mutter, even though I don’t want to, even though I’ve been avoiding thinking about this shit for far too fucking long—not wanting to admit what has been right in front of me…

Even though it’s been right in front of me.

And then, last week, I confirmed it.

But I couldn’t do anything about it—not with all the shit swirling through River’s Bend, not with my friends finally having a moment of peace.

Not with…

Dessie being Dessie.

She’s beautiful and stubborn and I want nothing more than for her to be mine…

And she hates me.

I curse under my breath, knowing this is all a nightmare that’s going to blow up on me, doing more damage than acid and dull spoons.

But still, I don’t stop walking.

Don’t stop moving to the spot the note had indicated I come to.

It had been slipped under the windshield wiper of my car when I was parked outside Monroe’s, so the intelligence of me following that written order by an unknown person was…well, debatable.

“Probably going to get murdered out here,” I mutter as I move along the trail. “Or the guys are waiting around the corner, ready to prank me.”

Only…I know it’s neither of those.

Because when I round the corner of the trail, eyes having long adjusted to the dark, I can easily see the person silhouetted against the moonlight in the small clearing.

A clearing I vaguely remember.

From decades before.

The person on the other side of it turns, and I feel that same gut punch as I experienced the first time I saw her in town when I was traded to the Rush a few seasons back.

Only this blow is more powerful.

I knew for certain now.

Before it had been an odd familiarity.

Now it’s…

Fact.

And it’s why I move close enough to see her face, her expression, her eyes that are a familiar shade of blue I’ve seen often during my time in River’s Bend.

It’s why I move close to Annie Donovan.

It’s why I move close to Rosie’s mother, who’s also…

“Hi, Mom.”

My mother.

She opens her mouth to reply?—

A gasp.

Only, it’s not from Annie. It comes from behind me.

I turn…

To find Dessie standing directly behind me.