Pucking Only (Night Hawks Hockey #2)

Chapter Fourteen The Aftermath

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: THE AFTERMATH

SKYLER

After Carson is gone, I sit on my couch and stare at the door for several long moments. What the hell just happened?

I just had sex with Carson. With Carson! Have I totally lost my mind?

Dropping my head into my hands, I let out a long groan. This is exactly what wasn’t supposed to happen. It didn’t even cross my mind as a possibility that I’d jump from my date with Zander into sex with Carson.

This is a nightmare. A mistake. A disaster!

Lowering my hands, I shove to my feet. I need to stop thinking about this. If I don’t think about it, I can pretend it never happened. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do! Mind over matter. I’ll pretend it didn’t happen, and then I won’t have to deal with the unfortunate reality that I slept with my best friend’s brother.

In desperate need of a distraction, I rush to my computer. Work will keep my mind off Carson and the dirty, terrible, incredibly hot things we just did together. That’s right! Work!

I’ll work on the game for a bit until I’m calm enough to go to sleep. Once I’m able to focus on anything but Carson, I’ll be totally fine.

Hours later, I’m still sitting at my desk, my laptop glowing in the dim light of the apartment, the cursor blinking impatiently on the screen. The code in front of me is a tangled mess. I dive into it, hoping for a distraction. But Carson’s face keeps flickering in my mind, uninvited and persistent. It doesn’t help that his scent still clings to me. I should’ve showered as soon as he left. For some reason, I can’t bring myself to do so, even though it’s driving me crazy catching a whiff of his spicy musk whenever I move.

In hindsight, trying not to think about him while I’m working on a hockey game wasn’t the brightest idea. I can’t stop thinking about how awkward it was between us before he left. Like, as soon as we both came and the horny-haze lifted from our brains, we were forced to face the full reality of what we’d done.

Neither of us knew how to talk about it, so we each did what we do best… we bolted. Well, technically, he bolted, but I was ready to throw myself out the closest window to escape the situation if need be. I shake my head, trying to dispel the memory, and focus harder on the task in front of me.

“If I adjust this function,” I mutter to myself, “maybe I can get the player movement to feel more fluid…” My fingers move quickly over the keys, the clacking sound filling the silence. I tweak the AI’s response time, making the virtual players' reactions more lifelike. It’s tedious work, but it’s what I need right now — something that demands my full attention, so mething that doesn’t leave room in my mind for Carson.

No matter how hard I try to immerse myself, the thoughts keep creeping back. The way he touched me… the taste of his kiss… the feel of him buried deep inside me…

Flushing, I take a deep breath, forcing myself to stay focused. This game, this code — it’s all that matters right now. I can’t afford to let my mind wander back to what happened with Carson. If I can just keep working, keep moving forward, maybe the knot in my chest will loosen. Maybe I can forget how his presence lingers in the back of my mind, no matter how hard I try to push it away.

Suddenly, my laptop dings. A notification box pops up, informing me that I’ve got a new email. Blinking, I open my email account and then groan when I see that the message is from Samuel.

Shit, what time is it? Grabbing my phone, I see that it’s almost seven in the morning. I’ve been working all night. Not again! I try to avoid all-nighters, but sometimes I just get lost in the work. I glance at the windows, impressed at how effective Grace’s blackout curtains are. Why is Samuel emailing me so early on a Saturday? What does this prick want now? Sighing, I open it, deciding just to get his bullshit over with.

Skyler,

I thought we’d moved past the issues from our last project, but apparently, I was wrong. I just reviewed the latest build of the game we were working on before this competition started, and guess what? There’s a major bug in the player progression system. And before you say it, no, this isn’t just a minor glitch — it’s a serious screw up that’s going to set us back.

I’m guessing this is another one of your “creative” coding solutions? You know, the ones that somehow manage to break more than they fix? I thought I’d made it clear that we can’t afford these kinds of mistakes, especially not after the last time.

Don’t take this too personally, Skyler. I’m only try to help you so that you don’t keep making these kinds of mistakes over and over again. It’s just going to keep you from getting very far in this industry. You should listen to my advice if you want to move up.

Samuel

The arrogant motherfucker! Is he being serious? There’s a file attached to the email. When I click on it to open it, I see it’s a breakdown of the issue that Samuel is blaming me for. Wait a minute…this bug has nothing to do with me! Anger explodes within me and I hit the reply button on the email, ready to send back a scathing response. I stop myself before I actually type anything.

Flexing and unflexing my fingers over the keyboard, I slowly convince myself to close the email and not respond. It’s not like it would do me any good. Samuel’s never listened to me when I’ve tried defending myself before…why would he start now? Releasing a long breath, I close the email and then my computer. My hands are shaking and my blood is boiling. I’m proud of myself for not reacting irrationally, which I’m sure is what Samuel really wants.

Needing a new distraction, I grab my phone and dial my dad’s number. Whenever I need someone to vent to and lend a sympathetic ear, my dad is always there for me. He doesn’t always understand my problems, but he always tries to give me advice and make me feel better.

Biting my lip, I listen as the phone rings and rings and rings. Shoot… what if he’s someplace where he has no service? No… he always tells me when he’ll be unreachable by regular phon e. Then I know to use his sat phone. Could he be asleep? Alaska is two hours behind Colorado, but dad is a ridiculously early riser and is usually up by five. My mind starts racing with different things that could have happened to him. Then, to my relief, he finally answers.

“Hey, kiddo!” my dad exclaims.

“Hey, Dad,” I reply. “Are you busy?”

“Oh, no. I was just sorting through some old trail maps,” he says. “The historical society wants some for this little museum they’re opening in town.”

“That sounds cool,” I murmur.

“Yeah, they want any really old maps we can find,” he sighs. “Like, from earlier settlers and explorers. I’m not sure how many of those we actually have, but I said we’d look.”

Some of the things my dad does with his job are so intense, but digging up old maps would not be at the top of my list of interesting activities. After I got out of high school, my dad up and moved to Alaska to pursue his dream of being a wilderness trail guide. We talk all the time. He regales me with stories of coming across bears and wolves, and all sorts of other wildlife. As much as I miss him, I’m so glad that he’s doing something that he loves. He is living his best life.

“What’s new with you, Sky?” Dad asks, pulling me out of my meandering thoughts.

“Oh, well, not too much,” I say. “I’m still in Denver, working on my game. I’m here for a little longer still.”

Wow, it hasn’t really hit me until now that I don’t have that much time left. That time since I got here seems so long ago, and yet it’s really not in the world of game development. A sense of pride blossoms within me when I think about how much work I’ve gotten done. Then I also feel a strange twisting in my gut at the realization that I’ll be back in California before the blink of an eye .

“How’s Grace? Have you two been able to spend much time together?”

The corners of my lips twitch up into a small grin. “Grace is great, and yes, we’ve been able to spend lots of time together.”

I don’t mention Carson, because that’s a minefield I’m just not prepared to navigate with my dad right now.

“Is something wrong, sweetie?” Dad suddenly asks, as if he can read my freaking mind.

“Um…why would you ask that?” I flinch when my voice squeaks a bit.

Dad chuckles softly. “Well, it’s not often that you call me out of the blue like this. Don’t get me wrong, Sky, I’m always happy to hear from you, but a father just knows when something is bothering his daughter.”

Releasing a long sigh, I confess, “Okay…if I’m being honest, I just got an email from Samuel that really pissed me off and…I guess I just needed to hear your voice.”

Dad lets out a puff of air and growls, “That Samuel is a menace. He’s just jealous of how talented you are, you know that right?”

I lean back in my chair and grumble, “I don’t know. It’s just been really hard lately. This game is my chance to prove just how good I really am, but I feel like I’m constantly dealing with one obstacle after another that I shouldn’t be facing on top of everything else.”

The words just kind of pour from me and I realize just how much I’ve been holding back my frustration with work, Samuel, and Mr. Ferguson. I knew breaking into this industry would be hard, but it shouldn’t be this hard. I hate it that deep down I know that if I were a guy, things would be much different.

“Sweetie, I know how much this job means to you,” Dad begins in a gentle tone. “You are so smart and talented and you will be so successful. Don’t let those short-sighted fools get you down.”

“Thanks, Dad,” I reply, grateful for his encouragement. A part of me doesn’t think he fully understands what I’m actually dealing with. These short-sighted fools are currently standing between me and my dreams. What really sucks is that I know there are plenty of people like them throughout this industry. In all reality, I’m likely going to have to deal with some level of this bullshit for the majority of my career. I don’t think Dad really understands that. He thinks I’m capable of anything and no obstacle is too great for me to overcome.

It’s too difficult to try and explain the systemic issues that are piled up against me, so I don’t bother trying. I know I have his support and his confidence, and that’s really all I can ask from him.

Deciding to change the subject, I ask, “How is everything going up there, Dad? Fight any bears lately?”

Chuckling, Dad replies, “Thankfully, no, I haven’t. If I’m honest, I’d rather face down a bear than some of these uppity tourists I have to deal with. Some people come up here expecting a winter wonderland and then are shocked when it’s actually hard work to hike these trails. Of course, then you have the people who think they know more than your old man, and are always in for a rude awakening when they get overwhelmed or think they’re lost and I have to rescue their pretentious butts.”

I chuckle and warmth spreads through my chest. God, I miss my dad. I’m so happy that he’s following his dream. Still, it sucks that we don’t get to see each other all that often. Even though we are always texting and calling when we can, it’s not the same. It’s not the same at all.

We chat for a little while longer before I reluctantly say, “I should get back to work, Dad. I just needed to hear your voice. Thanks for always being there.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” he replies. “I’ll see you at the Monroe’s anniversary party.”

I freeze, the mention of the party a stark reminder that no matter where I turn, I can’t escape Carson. He’s too entwined into my life.

At length, I manage to reply in a relatively cheerful voice, “I’m excited to see you, Dad. Have a good day.”

“Goodbye, sweetheart.”

We end the call. I set my phone down on my desk and lean back in my chair. What a mess. It’d be one thing if I just had to worry about the Carson situation, but now I’m also frustrated and stressed over work. I want this day to be over and technically, it has only just begun. Standing, I decide to just go to bed. Yes, it’s daytime, but I need sleep, especially after such a confusing, frustrating night.

Getting up, I turn off the apartment’s lights and make my way back to the bedroom. I change into a t-shirt and sleep shorts and crawl into bed, dragging the blankets up over my head. Squeezing my eyes shut, I will myself to sleep so I don’t have to think about Carson, Samuel, or my job anymore.

What’s going on? Why is it so dark?

Oh, right. My eyes are closed. I went to bed and fell asleep. Am I still sleeping?

Popping open my eyes, I look around and am momentarily confused when I see that I’m standing in Grace’s childhood bedroom. That’s…odd. I quickly make my way ou t the door. Walking down the hallway, I listen carefully for any sign of Grace or her mom coming back to find me. I need to get to the backyard before they do. I need to find Carson and tell him how I feel.

With a frown, I stop in the middle of the hallway. Wait…this feels familiar. Have I done this before?

No…I haven’t. Right? Shaking my head, I tell myself it doesn’t matter. I came to Grace’s house today with a mission in mind and I’m going to see it through. Continuing on down the hall, I reach the stairs and make my way to the back door. Carson’s in the backyard… playing hockey.

How do I know that?

It doesn’t matter. Opening the door, I make my way outside and there he is… Carson.

He looks older than he should. Like an adult. He’s big and muscular, but still playing with the street hockey set that he got for Christmas last year. That was last year, wasn’t it? Everything feels a little hazy, like I’m swimming through a fog as I make my way towards him.

When I reach him, it’s like everything starts moving faster and I’m just watching the scene unfold rather than participating in it.

“Carson, I like you… ”

“I’m sorry, Star… you’re not my type… ”

Oh, no. I have seen all this before. This isn’t new, and I know exactly what he’s going to say next.

“I prefer girly girls, like Elizabeth Norris.”

No. No, no, no, no! I don’t want to listen to this again! I don’t want to stand here while Carson looks down on me and tells me I’m not good enough for him. I don’t want to feel the pain of his rejection again.

“Stop it!” I shout, or at least try to. My voice suddenly doesn’t work. Opening and closing my mouth over and over again, I try to tell him I don’t want to hear it. That I don’t care that he doesn’t want me, but no words come out of my throat.

He gives me a pitying look before turning and walking away from me as I claw at my neck, desperate to say something, anything, if only to keep him from throwing me away all over again.

My eyes shoot open with a gasp. I sit up, looking around wildly, expecting to find myself in the Monroe’s backyard. Instead, I’m in Grace’s apartment, in bed.

A dream. It was just a dream.

Groaning, I drop back against my pillows and stare up at the ceiling. Shit, what was that? Why am I dreaming about that day?

Damn it, it’s like I actually just relived that conversation. My heart hurts and my cheeks are flushed with humiliation. It’s a good reminder of why I can’t get mixed up with Carson. It’s too complicated and my heart is too fragile when it comes to him, because I know I’ll never be enough for him. I’m still not the kind of girl he wants. I’m too nerdy and too much of a tomboy. In his eyes, I’m not the girlfriend type, but I guess I’m good enough for a hookup. Ugh, that thought pisses me off, and it doesn’t help any that the sex was actually great.

The problem with Carson is that I’m always going to want what I can’t have. I need to keep from making the same mistakes with him that’ll just wind up with me getting hurt.