Mr. Grumpy Puck by Teagan Kade

Mr. Grumpy Puck by Teagan Kade

Author:Teagan Kade [Kade, Teagan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Teagan Kade
Published: 2023-11-24T00:00:00+00:00


CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

SOPHIA

I stare at the blank presentation slides on my laptop, the cursor blinking mockingly. This childhood portion is kicking my ass, but it needs to be wrapped up so it can be presented to other schools. I sigh and rub my temples.

It’s been three days since the game, three days of doing my best to avoid Drew, but why? It makes no sense, which means I don’t make sense, and the whole thing is just weird, weird, weird in a way I’ve never experienced before.

But he’s Eric’s coach, I remind myself. And he never told you. How was this ever going to work with that kind of deceit?

Our little rendezvous in the equipment room? I haven’t been able to get that out of my head, but the rest of it all, the game, Eric taking that hit… It’s too much, too soon.

I mean, after sex like that I should be knocking his door down for more, so why am I holed up here at work like a shut-in?

I slide open my bottom desk drawer in my office and pull out the battered cardboard box. Just looking at it makes my stomach knot. With trembling hands, I lift the dusty lid, revealing a jumble of faded Polaroids and crinkled snapshots.

I thought it might be easier going through this stuff here at the office than at home, but now I’m not so sure.

My thumb brushes over a pic of me and Eric as kids, grinning and muddy, his arm slung around my shoulders. It had just rained and we were pretending we were dinosaurs, racing around our tiny backyard with hands, claws rather, outstretched.

Blinking back tears, I sift through the memories alone. Each photo stabs me in the heart, slicing open old wounds. I should just toss them. Burn the damn box. But I can't. They're all I have left of the good times, before everything went to hell. Before hockey, the supposed ‘sport of sports’ ruined my life.

My thoughts turn to Eric.

Call him. Just do it. Call him and see what he says.

I stare at my phone, my thumb hovering over Eric's name. With a sigh, I press ‘call’ and raise it to my ear.

Eric's voice is cheerful despite the late hour. "Soph, what can I do for you?"

"Hey, I know it's late, but I was hoping we could talk?"

Eric hesitates. "Sounds ominous.”

There’s no point beating around the proverbial bush. “Look, I’m here at work going through some old photos of us, thought you might be able to come down and help me go through them? You know, moral support and all. You did say you would.” I’m getting tired of reminding him.

There’s a pause—a long-ass pause. I imagine him scratching his head, face screwed up. “Yeah, well, you know… I’m kind of tired. Coach has really been working us.”

“Please?”

“Like I said, I don’t think I can.”

He sounds apologetic but also impatient, like he's itching to hang up.

I know he just doesn’t want to face the past. It’s as simple



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